Stateside Service: Camp Butner, North Carolina-89th Infantry Division


Shortly after we settled in I got my first jolt. While there were three artillery battalions in a light division, which would be converted and expanded to handle the new 105 mm guns being supplied, a brand new battalion needed to be created to handle the medium 155mm artillery guns that were standard with a heavy infantry division. Transfers from existing artillery battalions and new replacements arriving in Camp Butner formed this battalion, the 563rd. I was one of those "selected out" of the 340th and assigned to the Service Battery of the 563rd. I was not happy. I didn't want to leave my newfound buddies in Battery B and I certainly didn't want to be in a service battery, which handles rations, ammunition and supplies. But, as usual, no one asked me or gave a dam what I wanted. I haven't got a clue as to why I was picked for the 563rd and assigned to its Service Battery and would rather not dwell on it.

Then we all settled down and began our training. I was assigned as a clerk (again my MOS seemed to haunt me) in the section responsible for food rations, gasoline, miscellaneous supplies for the battalion. The section and was assigned one 2x6 truck for pickup and delivery of food and supplies throughout the battalion. A Warrant Officer assisted by a three-rocker sergeant commanded it, total of six or seven men. Another guy (I can't remember his name exactly but I believe his last name was Wilkie) and I were assigned to pick up the daily food rations each day, divide them up for each battery according to their roster size for the day, and delivering them. The assigned truck driver with T/5 rank was a Pacific combat veteran and it was obvious his stay with us would be temporary. Loving to drive and looking for some rank, I became his understudy helping to maintain and clean the truck with occasional driving assignments, mostly to the depot. Dividing the rations was the biggest challenge. How do you divide one cow carcass for five Batterys, some larger than others? Even after working out the math, how did you carve it up into pieces a mess sergeant could use or would seem fair to him? The seriousness of this problem was compounded because neither us know a damn thing about butchering. With the help of disgusted mess sergeants and cooks, and trial and error techniques, we finally worked it out somehow.

One day, while I was unloading some105mm shells from our truck, the tail gate chain gave way and down I fell with several shells right behind me, both hitting the ground at the same time. First I was taken to the Battalion aid station and then to the base hospital where I remained several days for observation. I had nothing more than a bruised back, or so it seemed at the time, but shortly after I was discharged in 1946 and before heading off for college, I was digging up the weeds in a neighbor's yard when my back suddenly gave away and I fell to the ground in severe pain due to a degenerated disc. This was to be my wartime disability, for sure, and it's only gotten worse as time goes by. I never bothered to submit a claim and wouldn't let a VA hospital near my back.

Sometime shortly after our arrival in Butner I was given my first and only furlough and had a week at home. I can't really remember many particulars but have some pictures of myself with all the family. Of course, none of my buddies were at home and I had no girlfriend so it was pretty routine, especially since I had seen so much of Mom in Oregon. Nevertheless, It was sure nice to be home again and the center of attention. Went into NYC and saw the musical "Oklahoma" on a free ticket and also blew my wad on taking an old family friend, Maurine, out to a swanky Park Ave café. I was the only non-officer in the place. Then, back to reality.

Old booming Capt. Lightbaum was also transferred to the 563rd, with a promotion to major, and our paths crossed once again. We were on a field firing exercise simulating an action problem and I was driving our truck full of shells and rations to an appointed spot. It was hilly and the truck was heavily loaded so I shifted into four-wheel drive, which is quite noisy. Unbeknownst to me, Lightbaum was in the middle of communicating firing instructions to the various Batterys, or vica versa, and the noise of my truck was making it difficult for him to hear or be heard. At any rate, after much flagging down and shouting, his booming voice came finally through…"Shut down that goddamn truck". I have a feeling that that incident was a contributing factor to my remaining a Private until, and only by an Act Congress; I was promoted to Private First Class while in combat. I also can't help wonder how, during actual combat firing, Major Lightbaum was able to maintain command if the comparatively slight noise I had been causing so throw him out of control. I'll never know and he's not around to tell me.

Otherwise life at Butner wasn't too bad. North Carolina has many virtues and amongst its highest are the beautiful women with lovely accents who live there. Many who worked in Raleigh, Durham and Henderson, came to dances on base or at USOs in town. Also met lovely girls at Duke and Randolph Macon; what a change from what an enlisted man usually runs into.

Duke University

Also dated several others but the last was the best or worst, depending on how you look at it. Edna and I fell in love, or thought we did, but she did have a boyfriend from high school who was still in the picture. I would come in whenever I could get a pass and had the bus fare. She was undemanding and sweet and loved to neck. In fact, one night as our departure approached, we decided to get the bus to South Carolina and get married immediately. There was a long line at the bus station, a common event in those days, and after about three hours waiting we called it quits. Later events proved how lucky I was.

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