Chapter 5: 1943-1944, Training Seabees

Another young man from Huntsville, Alabama passed through the military reception center in Anniston, Alabama in 1943. His name was Clayton Jones. Unlike Buford, however, he was destined for service in the United States Navy.

2 He scanned the sea of recruits for familiar faces. He’d heard that one of his buddies from Merrimack had also been assigned to the Navy. His name was Luke Miller, but he didn’t see him anywhere.

3 “He could be a million miles away from here by now, if he ever came through here in the first place!” Clayton thought. And, although he wasn’t aware of it yet, he had been identified as a candidate for one of the Navy’s construction battalions because of his background in things electrical and mechanical. He would not, therefore, be joining his friend in the ranks of the regular Navy.

4 Then, after he was informed of his fate, he was quickly put on a train headed for Williamsburg, Virginia. Clayton didn’t quite know what to expect when he stepped off the train at Camp Peary.

5 It certainly never crossed his mind that the place he was entering would one day be one of the most restricted places (in terms of public access) anywhere in the United States. Camp Peary was destined to one day be a training center for the CIA known as The Farm.

6 No, on that very hot day at the end of July, Clayton Jones was wondering what was next for him and his buddies. He didn’t have to wait long to find out. “You’re in the Navy now, boys!” exclaimed someone in uniform. “Line up in front of me as your name is called,” he ordered.

7 Next, they were marched to some barracks where they secured a bunk and their belongings and had an opportunity to splash a little cool water on their faces. After some chow, it was back to the barracks and then to bed.

8 They awoke to reveille the next morning. Still groggy and a bit undisciplined, they stumbled into formation and learned that they were about to receive yet another physical. It was like an assembly-line. Each man was stripped, poked and prodded.

9 “Next!” the nurses, technicians and doctors shouted. The line never stopped moving.

10 When that was finished, they were taken to another assembly-line. Here they were issued uniforms and footwear.

11 “This doesn’t fit very well,” Clayton sputtered. “Next,” the man in front of him shouted. They were instructed to put their civilian clothes in boxes for shipment back home.

12 A quick stop in the barber’s chair was next. As soon as he removed his cap, the barber took a couple of quick swipes over the crown of his head with his electric clippers, and all of his hair was gone. Clayton estimated that he had been in the chair about 30 seconds, but he didn’t recognize the man in the mirror looking back at him when he exited that chair.

13 From there, he was ushered into another large room where military pay and allotments were explained to him and the other inductees. Unexpectedly, there was time here for a few questions.

14 “Will that money go directly home?” one man asked. “Yes, that’s what I just said,” was the response.

15 After that, it was time to eat again. And it was a good thing too, because Clayton Jones was hungry by this time. As he glanced up from shoveling the food down his throat, he could see that his buddies were hungry too.

16 When lunch was finished, it was time to line up again and go through another assembly-line. In one line, a man shoved a sea-bag into their hands. In another line, they received coveralls. Next, each man was given a mattress. On and on it went, until every man there was exhausted.

17 Then came the coup de grace. They were ordered to load all of the items that had just been issued to them onto some trucks and prepare to move to their permanent barracks. The truck ride lasted about ten minutes.

18 “What in the hell have I gotten myself into?” Clayton wondered to himself. While that thought was still fresh in his mind, it was time to disembark and begin unloading all of the gear which they had just struggled to load on the truck a few minutes before.

19 Over the weeks that followed, Marine drill instructors whipped the men into shape. They marched endlessly around the parade field with sticks of wood carved into the likenesses of rifles. This all continued until, finally, they were all in sync with each other and performing to their instructors’ satisfaction. As with their counterparts in the Army, there were also training films to watch and instructions about general orders and guard duty.

20 Their basic training completed, the men were loaded into day coaches and headed north for Rhode Island. The train ride lasted all night, and the men were tired and sleepy when they arrived at their destination.

21 Even so, Camp Endicott proved to be a pleasant surprise for Clayton and his buddies. Their new barracks had air-conditioning, and there were cold water fountains at the ends of the hallways! The streets were paved. No more marching around in mud. Even some of the Quonset huts that were used for specialized training were air-conditioned here. Yes, Camp Endicott was clearly a step up from Camp Peary.

22 And, after they were settled into their new accommodations, Clayton began a four-week long course in refrigeration. At long last, the Navy had found something that he actually enjoyed doing. The course was easy for him. He quickly absorbed everything they taught him. In fact, Clayton found that he intuitively already knew much of what they were teaching him.

23 Even so, the Navy had not altogether abandoned their military training. The very serious nature of what lay ahead of them was underscored by the issue of real weapons here. In addition to the specialized training they received, they also spent time at the range learning to fire rifles, machine guns and mortars. They learned how to throw a hand grenade and how to protect themselves from chemical warfare. “This shit is for real!” Clayton thought to himself.

24 Although the occasional bus trips into Providence were fun, liberty was a short-term thing. The USO shows were also a welcome relief from the monotony of military life, but they did nothing to quench the longing for home. Hence, everyone was ecstatic when they were given ten days of leave in September. They all needed a break.

25 When they returned from leave, the men were ordered to turn out in their dress uniforms as part of an elaborate ceremony for the presentation of the Battalion’s colors. The following day, a notice was posted on the bulletin board informing them that they had been assigned to temporary duty in Maine.

26 Thus, their time at Camp Endicott was at an end. As the sun set on the first Saturday in October, they marched out to the train station in Davisville, Rhode Island and boarded the train for the long trip north.

27 The train stopped in Lowell, Massachusetts for approximately half an hour, and the men took advantage of every minute of it. “Bring us some beer!” they shouted from the windows of the train to the local town folks. Strangely enough, some of the good-natured citizenry of Lowell complied with their request. It was fun, even though more beer was spilled then consumed. Then the train continued on its way.

28 As they pulled into the station at Quoddy Village, the band of the 112th Battalion welcomed them to the platform. Clayton shivered as he stepped out into the cold air. The sun was shining brightly, but this place was frigid.

29 “I hope I don’t freeze my balls off up here!” he exclaimed. “Ain’t that the truth,” one of his buddies agreed.

30 They stayed in apartments and houses that had formerly been occupied by crews and leaders of the NYA. Although conditions were cramped, the accommodations were nice enough. And, more importantly, they were warm.

31 For the next three months, Clayton and his buddies were assigned to work details at Camp Lee-Stephenson. They repaired old buildings and constructed new ones. In short, their months of training and civilian experience were now being put to good use by the Navy. Very little new training was introduced during this period.

32 At the end of December, the thermometers registered some new lows; but their time in Maine had finally drawn to a close. They boarded trains for the cross-country trip to Port Hueneme, California. The Battalion split up into four groups in Bangor, Maine and took separate routes from that point to their new destination.

33 Clayton watched his buddies play poker and occasionally joined in a game himself on the long train ride west. He slept a lot and drank some beer at every opportunity that presented itself. He thought about what awaited them at the end of this train ride. He knew that this war was about to get real for all of them in short order.

34 The men of the 119^th Construction Battalion spent the next six weeks at the Camp Rousseau facility of Port Hueneme. Their time there was devoted to reviewing everything that they had learned in the previous six months. They drilled, marched and spent most of their time in the field. The men were issued Springfield rifles and marched to the range to learn how to use them.

35 The Camp itself was a sprawling collection of Quonset huts that extended all the way down to the docks. Its proximity to Los Angeles made the sparse amount of downtime that the men had more enjoyable. However, most of the time that was not occupied with training was spent helping to load the supply ships at the docks.

36 Then, in February, the men gathered their gear together and went aboard the U.S.S. West Point. The ship had been the S.S. America before the war. It was over seven hundred feet long and had two large, winged smoke stacks protruding from the superstructure of the ship. The West Point was painted in camouflage colors so that it would blend in with the surrounding ocean and make the journey across the Pacific less hazardous.

37 Clayton grabbed one of the top bunks in his cabin. “I don’t want to be on the bottom bunk when they get seasick,” he thought.

38 On February 22, 1944, the ship began making its way toward the open sea. Most of the souls on board were uncertain about exactly where they were headed, but they knew they were headed into harm’s way.

Chapter 4: 1943-1944, Training a soldier

Buford Hendrix had been introduced to the United States Army at Fort McClellan, Alabama in 1943. Now he was on his way to Camp Hood, Texas. The trip had been a long and monotonous one, and his feelings of separation and homesickness were accentuated by the move. After all, Texas was a long way from Alabama.

2 Camp Hood was a brand-new facility, and the signs of construction and expansion were everywhere apparent. The post had been named in honor of Confederate General John Bell Hood, a scion of the same Callaway clan that had settled Kentucky with Boone. Here, Buford and his buddies would learn about machine guns and tanks.

3 As the bus pulled through the gate at Camp Hood, Buford sat straight up in his seat and began to notice the landscape outside the window next to him. Then the bus came to a stop, and everyone began to stand and stretch and retrieve what belongings they had carried with them. As Buford stepped off the bus, the first thing that he noticed about the place was the big blue sky and sunshine. It seemed to be everywhere.

4 “Get your gear and lineup over here,” a sergeant shouted. That was all it took to break the spell and bring him back down to earth. He and his comrades quickly complied with the order and were assembled in neat ranks within minutes. After the roll was called, the troops were marched to the barracks that would be their new home during their training.

5 The next morning, Buford took his place in formation and saluted as reveille was played from somewhere in the distance. After breakfast, they were marched into a small building whose interior was lined with wooden benches and folding chairs. There was a large screen hanging at the front of the room and a projector was facing it on the other side of the room.

6 “Take a seat, gentleman,” the sergeant began. “In order to properly handle the equipment which you are about to be issued, you must first be trained in the safest and most efficient use of that equipment. The films which you are about to see will introduce you to this equipment.”

7 “You will pay close attention to everything that is said, and everything you see on that screen. You will not get tired. You will not sleep. If you do, you are likely to feel a sharp slap on the back of your head. Gentlemen, is that understood?” he finished. “Yes sir!” the men all shouted.

8 The film was all about machine-guns. The narrator talked about fields of fire and primary and secondary missions. He talked about how to use cover and explained the difference between the terms defilade and enfilade. He talked about primary and alternate positions and the importance of looking for opportunities to support the riflemen which they would accompany in theatre.

9 They learned about the safety limit. It was stressed that they must understand how troops could be placed in danger of being hit by their own supporting fire. The respective responsibilities of squad, section and platoon leaders were outlined. Finally, the mechanics of the weapon itself were described. The impact of the rate of fire on the weapons ability to cool itself and sustain fire was also explained.

10 Slowly, it began to dawn on Buford and the other privates that this was life and death stuff that was being discussed. Even for those who had been exposed to weapons before, this wasn’t like anything that they had experienced at home.

11 Then, finally, it was time for them to go to the range and actually fire a machine gun. Everyone was nervous. On the ground before them, there were a dozen Browning machine guns mounted on tripods facing down range. The men were divided into teams of two and assigned a position.

12 As Buford stretched out on his stomach and placed his hands around the weapon for the first time a tingling sensation ran up his spine. By the time Buford removed his earplugs, he was numb. He was a certified machine gunner now.

13 When that was over, they were marched into the building where they had seen the training films. Once again, the army provided them with some more of its “innovative and entertaining” films on the proper use of its weaponry. This time, it was tanks.

14 The following day, Buford and his comrades were loaded into trucks and taken to the field – the training area away from the barracks and other buildings of the main post. There before them were parked two medium tanks about 200 feet apart. An instructor stood in front of each one of the tanks, and the men were divided between the two instructors. Buford’s instructor was a short, no-nonsense looking man who stood there for a few minutes silently surveying his new trainees.

15 “Pay attention,” he began. “I’m only going to say things once - I don’t like repeating myself. Everything I tell you is going to be important. Some of the things that I tell you may save your life someday,” he continued.

16 “When is lunch?” someone near the back of the formation asked. A few of the soldiers chuckled, but Buford swallowed hard when he saw the look on the instructor’s face. “Who said you were going to get a lunch today, private?” he said softly. There weren’t any other interruptions.

17 The Texas sun was hot as the man explained the advantages of a medium tank over a light one. He emphasized how important it was for them to be able to accurately judge distances.

18 “This tank will easily traverse a seven to eight-foot-wide trench, but you may get into serious trouble if you attempt anything wider than that.” He showed them the large 400 HP engine, and how to take care of it.

19 He explained the startup procedure, shifting gears and the steering levers. He also went over maintenance procedures and explained the responsibilities of each one of the tank crew’s team members.

20 Then, after several days of instruction, it was time for Buford and the other privates to get some practical experience inside the tank. In the weeks that followed, it seemed like they drove those tanks all over Texas. Fort Hood was, after all, a big place.

21 Every evening, they would march back to the barracks exhausted and covered in dust and dirt. Buford had never been so tired and hungry in his entire life. And then, suddenly, after months of hard training, it was over.

22 Buford was a professional soldier now. He was certified by the United States Army to be proficient in the operation of machine guns and tanks.

23 “What’s next?” he wondered. They all knew what was next. He took the small Bible out of his pocket which had been issued to him a few months before and rubbed his fingers over it. “You’re coming with me,” he softly whispered to himself.

24 In the meantime, back in Washington, another scion of the Marshall family, General George C. Marshall was serving as Chief of Staff for the United States Army under Roosevelt. Buford’s distant cousin had been busy too. While Buford was training with machine guns and tanks, Marshall had been planning and coordinating the Allies’ invasion of Nazi occupied Europe. By the time Buford made it to Italy, that invasion was a part of history; and the Allies were well on their way to defeating Hitler’s Germany.

Chapter 3: 1942-1943, Orphans

Henry had helped his mother move back to Huntsville after his father’s death. Ann had to sell most of her furnishings to generate enough money for the move and attempt to make the transition a little easier for the children. Even so, much to her dismay, Henry had not lingered after getting her and the girls settled in Alabama.

2 Henry was preoccupied with pleasing his new wife, and he simply didn’t have the time or resources to help his mother and his sister’s orphaned children. In fact, his own daughter was an impediment to making this new marriage work. “Erna can stay here and help you with the girls,” he had told her.

3 Ann was old and tired, and now she was raising four little girls by herself. Henry was right about one thing: Erna would be a big help. Nevertheless, she was still a child. “I’ll go and see Sam and see if he can help me,” she thought.

4 Sam was getting ready to leave for work when she arrived at his home. His wife, Nannie, had never concealed the fact that she didn’t care much for her mother-in-law. She resented the way that Ann and Virgil had put Sam and his brothers to work in the cotton mill when they were boys. Hence, Nannie stood in the kitchen while Ann made her appeal to her son.

5 “I can barely support my own family, Mama,” Sam shrugged in exasperation. “Here’s a couple of dollars. I wish I could do more,” he concluded as he grabbed his lunch pail and headed for the door.

6 Ann collapsed in a nearby rocking chair and stared at the wall. “I really am on my own,” she thought.

7 About fifteen minutes later, Doodle pushed through the front door with Wayne in her arms. She nodded at the strange woman sitting in the rocking chair and went on through to the kitchen.

8 “Who’s that?” she asked her mother-in-law. “Oh, that’s that old indian – Sam’s mother!” she exclaimed in disgust.

9 Doodle turned around and went back into the front room. “I’m Buford’s wife, and this is our son,” she began. “Would you like to hold him?”

10 Ann nodded and received the baby into her lap. She smiled, kissed him on top of his head and whispered, “God bless you.”

11 When Ann returned home, her neighbor was pacing back and forth on her front porch. “Oh, Ann, you’ve got to help me!” the woman cried. “Jimmy has burnt his fingers on the hot stove, and he won’t stop crying,” she explained. “We don’t have any money for a doctor, and I heard that you could talk the fire out of a burn.”

12 Ann stooped over and took the little boy’s hand in hers. She closed her eyes and whispered something over the fingers. By the time she had finished, Jimmy had stopped crying and the redness around his fingers had clearly dissipated. “He’ll be just fine now,” Ann sighed as she climbed the stairs and went into her own house and closed the door.

13 The next day, she summoned the director of the Baptist Orphanage to her home. “I’m sorry to trouble you,” she began. “But I’ve got to make sure that the girls are going to be taken care of when I’m gone. I’m old, and sick, and tired, and there’s no one left to care for them when I’m gone,” she finished.

14 “Well, of course, we’ll take them Miss Hendrix – if no one in the family steps forward,” the man smiled. He reached over and patted her hand in a display of sympathy. “You don’t know what a relief that is,” she sighed as the tears again rolled down her cheeks.

15 Ann Hendrix died in March of 1943. At the conclusion of her funeral service, Roy’s brother stepped forward. “I’ll take Betty, Nancy and Myra,” he said. As a consequence, Virgie’s daughters would be raised by their Uncle Fred. And, since there was no money to purchase a tombstone for Ann, he took care of that too.