A Story of My Veteran

The idea for this article came from a reader who has an interest in WWII.  The story is about my veteran, The One I Love Best and we’ve been together 68 years.  Wedded Bliss?  No way. We could have gotten a divorce several times, but neither would agree to take the children, so we just keep on keeping on.  My vet is quick-tempered and short- spoken, but he’s a keeper.  In his younger days he could diaper a baby, change an engine in an automobile, pull a calf or put a meal on the table. And another thing, he’s a great gardener.  It’s been said that he can root broom handles.

John graduated from Crossville High in 1942, was drafted into the Army in 1943 reporting to Ft. McClellan in Anniston. Had he weighed one pound less he would have been turned down; however, from there he went to Greensboro, N.C.  A group of young draftees were together when a Sgt. asked for volunteers to drive pick ups and John volunteered.  He was given a wheelbarrow as his pick up.  This was the last of his volunteering.  Somewhere along the way it was discovered he had mechanical abilities and was transferred to the Army Air Corp, which later became the U. S. Air Force.  Early on in his tour of duty he was on a coal-burning troop train going to Salt Lake City — in the winter time.  John is small stature and very cold natured;  and even though he was wearing a wool uniform along with an overcoat, he was cold and went up front to ask if he could shovel coal to get warm and they let him.

John’s airplane was the B-29 and most of his time in service was spent in Pratt, Kansas.  One plane brought in was something special, but nobody knew why.  Being a mechanic, along with others, he did many extra things to this plane that had not been done on other B-29’s and later it was discovered he had worked on the Enola Gay –the plane that dropped the first atomic bomb.  John spent time in Jamaica., Hastings, Neb. and finally was stationed at a beautiful air base in Salina, Kansas – Smokey Hill Air Base and this is where we were when we heard the war was over.   It was a nice summer afternoon and a group of us were sitting on the lawn of a junior college in Salina when horns started blowing and then we discovered why.  It’s memories of another time, but it’s nice to reflect while enjoying country living.

John Crumly
1943