tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41605410149439710672024-03-05T13:19:06.186-08:00mtnprideI am a retired minister and a fiction writer. My blogs will be on current events, subjects related to writing, or my observations of the Reformed and Presbyterian church scene.Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.comBlogger153125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-47410861612190222492018-06-12T19:11:00.000-07:002018-06-12T19:11:12.591-07:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER ELEVEN<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When I went to Patterson Park High School,
I was given an IQ test and I scored very high on it. I don’t remember the score
but when the guidance counselor told me what it was, she also lectured me on
how a high IQ meant nothing unless it was accompanied with hard work. She took
the credits that I had from Poly and worked out a schedule of courses so that I
could begin the eleventh grade instead of going into the second semester of the
tenth grade.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Patterson Park High School was located a
block from Patterson Park which was a large park that had been a military fort
during the War of 1812. The grassy slopes going down into the park had once
been fortifications. The school itself was enclosed on all four sides by city
streets. The playground was the roof of the building enclosed by chain-link
fence topped by barbed wire. During the year that I was there, a boy scaled the
fence and leaped to his death on the sidewalk below. I don’t remember how many
floors there were to the building, but it seemed like every class change there
were flights of steps to climb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The teachers were all interesting and
stimulating. I had both physics and biology. The physics teacher was a man who
wore black horn rimmed glasses and looked like an actor who played in comedy films.
He would take a mouthful of helium and talk with a squeaky voice, hold a very
high voltage wire so that his hair stood out straight. All the time he was
teaching principles of physics. It was impossible not to learn whatever lesson
he was teaching that day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">His wife taught biology. She had long
blonde hair, was smartly dressed and was absolutely beautiful. We had lab
tables and a lab partner. Whether it was leaves, seeds, flowers, frogs or seeds
the teaching was always hands on. The reading and writing was done at home with
lots of homework. In class we had a lab notebook in which we had to draw as
well as take notes about what we were handling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Our math teacher was old. Her hair was gray
and she was bald at the crown of her head. I learned more math from her in one
year than I would have believed was possible. On the face of it, I was
repeating what I had in the ninth grade at Poly. She opened my understanding to
what I thought I already knew. There was one girl who was very bright in math.
The teacher had her come to the board and show the class how she had worked a
problem. The girl’s last name sounded familiar. Then I realized it was on the
trucks that came to Armistead Gardens with fuel oil. I found out that her
father owned the company.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Several blocks from Patterson was
Haussner’s, a unique restaurant with a German cuisine. All around the dining
room, every wall from the wainscoting to the ceiling there were oil paintings
mounted so close together that there was no wall showing. In the bar the wall
which the customers faced was covered solidly with nude paintings. The bar sold
postcard replicas of the paintings for 79 cents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Haussner’s was an emblem of the influence
of German culture in Baltimore. In school, if the teacher was of German
upbringing, the class had to remain standing until the teacher entered the
room, stood behind his/her desk and motioned for the class to be seated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In downtown Baltimore there was a very
large building with an imposing façade. Until about 1940 there was a giant Nazi
flag draped over the entrance. The German Bundt held rallies there until it was
disbanded by the government. When I was courting Lorraine I met her for lunch
several times and we ate in a marvelous German restaurant in the basement of
that building which was close to the building where Lorraine worked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I was still going to Youth For Christ once
a month. At one of the rallies the speaker challenged us to carry our Bible on
the top of our books at school. I started doing that. At first I thought I
would be made fun of, but I wasn’t. The other young people accepted that it was
part of who I was. It was so much different going to Patterson. I really
enjoyed going to school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">At Baltimore School of the Bible I heard
about Port Mission. I started going there on Sunday afternoon and evenings. My
parents never did like it because I was no longer going with the family of
Sunday drives or out to Darld and Ginny’s.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">At Port Mission we went out on street
meetings in the afternoon until the weather turned cold. We went to inner city
neighborhoods. We would go to the same location for six Sundays in a row, then
another location for another six weeks. When we reached a location we mounted a
loudspeaker on top the car and began by singing a couple hymns. Then we had special
music. The young ladirs would round up the children in the neighborhood and sit
them in groups of about six or eight on doorsteps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One of the young men would come to the
microphone and begin preaching a Gospel message. The rest of the young men
would go through the neighborhood placing a Gospel tract under each door. The
girls would teach a short Bible story for which they had a picture card for
each of the children. Then they had a Bible memory verse shortened to five
words. They called these “finger verses” and taught the children to memorize
them using a finger for each word. If they had time they taught the children a
song. As the preacher was concluding his message, he gave an invitation for
anyone to accept Christ as Savior. Then he offered a Gospel of John for anyone.
The young men were back from distributing tracts and they carried a Gospel to
anyone who signaled that they wanted one. The service concluded with the girls
bringing the children to the microphone to recite the verse they had learned
and sometime sing the song they learned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In the winter there was Sunday School. I
was in the class with high school, college and career age young people. Our
teacher was Mr. Herman Wollenweber. There were about twenty in the class and we
sat in a giant circle. There were many denominations represented. At least half
were Presbyterians. Mr. Wollenweber was Lutheran. There were Evangelical &
Reformed, Baptists. One was a Grace Brethren. We had some spirited discussions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">After Sunday School there was a supper
prepared the ladies. It was always delicious. While we were on street meetings
or Sunday School, several of the men were visiting the ships in the harbor.
They took rolls of magazines which they distributed to the merchant sailors.
Most of the sailors were foreign and not many could speak English very well.
The magazines in the rolls were the sort with lots of pictures. The men would
invite any of the seamen who would like to come back to the Mission for supper.
They would bring them into the supper and invite them to stay for the evening
service.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<br />Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-38943660902776668172018-05-27T21:27:00.000-07:002018-05-27T21:27:00.952-07:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER TEN<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One of the elders of the church had a son who was
older than me. The son didn’t come to church and there were always rumors that
he and several other older boys were engaged in some shady activities. He drove
a Buick from the 1930s. It was large, had a long hood with a spare tire on the
side of the car behind the front fender. He had painted it chartreuse!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There were two DeSoto automobiles in Armistead
Gardens. They were both painted tan with dark brown trim. At that time I
thought they were handsomest cars on the road. One of them belonged to one of
the elders in the church. He was a kind, gentle man. If he and his wife had
children they were grown and gone from home. I think he was a supervisor at some
business. They lived on the street across from the Armistead Gardens Elementary
School which Marshall attended.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The other DeSoto belonged to the parents of Andrea
Flood, one of Beverly’s friends. She was an attractive girl and wore nice
clothes. I always thought she was snooty. I think she was adopted. Beverly
liked her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">My best friend, Duane Dearth, was my age and was
in our church. He joined the same time that I joined the church. His family was
also from West Virginia. We were both in the boys’ Sunday School class taught
by<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Loudermilk. Mr. Loudermilk had a
son our age and in that class. I think Mr. Loudermilk was a carpenter who
worked for a house-building contractor..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Duane’s father had a 1948 Chevrolet Fleetline
sedan. It was a bright metallic green. He kept that car washed and waxed all
the time. Duane was very intelligent. He was in the City College A course when
I was in the Poly A course. He had a sister, Velva, who was several years
younger than us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I went back to Poly that fall. It was a miserable
year for me. I did not have a single friend at Poly. Was that my fault? The
teachers were all strict and demanded maximum effort. I could do math, but I
just wasn’t interested in engineering. My worst subject was shop. My father
used to say about Marshall and I vis-à-vis working on a car, “I could show Troy
Lynn how to do something for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be able
to do it. I can show Marshall something one time and for the rest of his life
he’ll be able to do it.” Ironically, when we were both grown men, Marshall always
took his car to the garage for repairs; I had to try to repair mine on my own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I made good grades in the second semester of the
ninth grade. I again asked to be transferred to Patterson Park High School. It
was pointed out to me that I was making good grades in the A course. They
offered to transfer me to the B course which had a slightly lighter load of
courses. I would still have been in a community that was alien to me. I stayed
in the A course but decided to put less effort into it, to get passing grades
but not good grades. In June when I asked to transfer to Patterson Park High
School, it was approved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That summer I got a job working at Fox’s 5&10
in the Freedom Shopping Center. It was on Erdman Avenue which bordered
Armistead Gardens. I was the stock boy. When boxes of merchandise were
delivered, I had to know what items we were out of and open those boxes and
stock those shelves first priority. Then I carried the rest of the boxes
downstairs to the stock room. The stock room had to be kept neat and orderly so
that any of the clerks could find an item when necessary. The clerks weren’t
responsible to keep the stock room neat. When they were in a hurry to find an
item, the stock room looked like a hurricane struck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mr. Fox was a Jewish man with a thick accent. He
was short and balding, middle aged. He was very excitable. When he was irritated
or angry, his face was red and he yelled. He had an attractive wife. When she
was in the store she was always nice to the employees. Mr. Fox had a grey
Oldsmobile. Every time he went out to the car and started it, he would race the
engine until I thought it would surely fly apart. Then he would drive away at a
moderate pace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I worked as many hours as I could. My incentive
was to get enough money for car insurance. My father said that if I wanted to
get a learner’s permit, and then get a driver’s license, I would have to pay
for my own insurance. At that time in Maryland they had JR-11 and SR-22
insurance. Both of them were insurance pools. JR-11 was for drivers 16-21 years
of age. SR-22 was for drivers who had had an accident. In order to apply for a
learner’s permit I had to buy JR-11 insurance. The certificate was kept on
file. If you did not keep up the premiums on the JR-11 insurance, the
Department of Motor Vehicles demanded that you turn in your license until you
once again had a certificate of JR-11 insurance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">With my earnings from the dime store I obtained
insurance and a learner’s permit. Dad took me to the parking lot of the Glenn
L. Martin plant. The plant must have been closed by then because the lot was
just acres of empty concrete.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The car was a straight shift. The first thing I
had to learn was to operate the clutch and shift gears. Then to teach me
parking Dad used a mop and a broom put into something to hold them upright.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One time, on our way to the Glenn L. Martin
parking lot, I had my first accident. I didn’t even have a license to drive! I
was driving on Pulaski Highway. It was my first experience driving in
multi-lane traffic. The traffic was going the speed limit, 55 mph. I was in the
fast lane, but traffic was too thick for me to get over into the slow lane.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">From out of nowhere, a dog darted across the
highway and in front of me. I slammed on the brakes. The car behind me crashed
into our car. It did not seem to damage our car. The car behind us was a new
Buick. It was that year when the Buick didn’t have a front fender. The grill
came down and wrapped under the radiator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Buick’s grill was torn up. The driver whose grill was damaged was
very angry. He and Dad exchanged names, phone numbers, and insurance agents’
phone numbers. He took down the information on my learner’s permit. I don’t
think the police were called or appeared on the scene.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Dad gave me a strong lecture about how I should
have hit the dog rather than slam on the brakes. However, according to Maryland
law, when you hit a person from the rear end, you are always in the wrong. Legally,
the accident occurred because the vehicle was following too close or the driver
wasn’t paying attention.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When I took my driver’s license test, I had to go
to the Department of Motor Vehicles. Their building was only a couple blocks
from Poly. I passed the test and received my license.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">About the only time I was able to drive was when
my father or the whole family were going someplace. My father was gone most of
the time except on Sundays. Two, three times, or more a year we would leave on
Friday evening to go to Elkins where we would visit with Dad’s father and
mother, Donald and Delania (whom we called Pee Wee), and their two sons Donnie
and Eddie. They all lived in the same house. We would start back to Baltimore
on Sunday afternoon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Otherwise, on Sundays Dad and Mom would sleep late
while Beverly, Marshall, and I went to Sunday School and church. After Sunday
dinner, we would either go for a Sunday drive or go out to visit Ginny and
Darld.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<br />Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-25915352980946600722018-05-19T20:09:00.000-07:002018-05-19T20:09:58.950-07:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER NINE<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That summer I spent doing yard chores such as
painting the fence and mowing the lawn. I built a town under a large tree next
door. It was close to the highway and had roots that came up out of the ground.
Between the roots I built neighborhoods. I made streets and driveways with
little pebbles to outline the roads and driveways. I had a lot of little cars.
In the dime store across the highway they had little plastic cars and trucks.
Some of the dump trucks I removed the dump and used balsam wood to make stake
bed trucks and other type trucks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">This was something Marshall and I could do
together. He was 8 or 9 years old then. One time Beverly was mad at us about
something and with her shoes she kicked our town into oblivion. That just gave
us an excuse to reconstruct it and make it better!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The people who lived next door to us were Mr. and
Mrs. Lucas, and their son and daughters. The boy’s name was Jack. I don’t
remember how old he was. I think he was younger than Marshall. The daughter was
several years older than me. We didn’t have too much interaction with them
except on two occasions that I remember. One afternoon the girl came to the
door and asked to speak to our mother. Mom invited her inside. She was crying.
In her arms she was clutching a bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mrs.
Pritt, please put these away someplace and keep them for me. They are records
and my mother said she is going to smash them to pieces. She says they are
indecent.” Mom agreed to keep them for her if she wouldn’t tell her mother who
was keeping them. Almost a year later the girl was moving out, maybe to go to
college. She came to collect the records. One of them was “Drinking Rum and
Coca-Cola”, others were “Beer Barrel Polka” and “The House of the Rising Sun.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">They had another daughter who was retarded. We
rarely saw her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The Lucases bought a used car. Mrs. Lucas asked
Dad to teach her to drive. Dad agreed. Sometimes he would come back from a
lesson cussing and other times laughing. She eventually went for her driving
test and passed it. I don’t remember if Mr. Lucas could drive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I was still too young for a work permit. A man
whose first name was Ray and was a member of the church sometimes took me on
Saturdays as a helper. He was a mechanic and was certified to work on several
brands of fork lift trucks. Once we went to a fertilizer factory. There were a
half dozen fork lifts that would not run. He soon determined that the air
filters were clogged with fertilizer dust and that fertilizer has eaten through
some of the wiring. While I was replacing the air filters, he was replacing the
wires.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Another place we went was a brick yard. They had a
World War 2 bomb loader which they were using as a fork lift truck. Bomb
loaders were heavy duty fork lift trucks built to carry loads of five hundred
pound bombs from the bunkers at the end of the runways to the planes they were
to be loaded on. They could reach speeds of 50 mph. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">They had loaded a freight car with bricks. They
wanted to push it down the track and couple it to the other cars. It wouldn’t
move. They tried pushing it and pulling it with a heavy duty truck used to haul
bricks. It wouldn’t move. Some knucklehead had the idea to lift one end of the
boxcar with the bomb loader and let it push the car. When he tried to lift the
car filled with bricks, the stacks (on which the forks ride up and down) were
bent and twisted and one of the hydraulic hoses burst. The bomb loader couldn’t
be fixed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Ray had converted his car to operate on propane
gas. He estimated the engine would last 200,000 miles or more. He got very good
mileage on that fuel. However, there was no way to pay highway tax so it was
illegal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I no longer had my bicycle but I walked all over
Armistead Gardens. I would sometimes stop to talk to Margie and Nancy Eisinger.
They were both older than I was. Margie was president of our youth group. Nancy
was a couple years ahead of me in school. I never went into the house, just
stood at the door talking. Like many of the youth in our church group and like
my own parents, their parents did not attend church. Another girl from our
group lived almost at the end of Wright Avenue. I usually just waved at her,
but one day she had her record player on the porch and it was playing “Earth
Angel.” I had never heard music like that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Another friend whom I would stop to talk with was
Al Sterner. Al’s father was very religious and spent a lot of time reading the
Bible. I don’t know what church he attended, if any. He didn’t work. He made Al
and his brother quit school and work at jobs such as selling newspapers on the
buses and streets. Al did not seem resentful and was a happy person. He didn’t
attend our youth group but attended the Youth For Christ meetings in Baltimore.
I think they were monthly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Beverly had four special friends who lived near
us, Nancy Corey, Donna Corey, Joan Germer, and Andrea Flood. Donna was my age.
I asked her to go to the movies with me and she turned me down. She was the
first girl I ever asked on a date.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I didn’t always walk. A fad which went through the
project like a tornado was orange crate scooters. They were simplicity itself
to make and nearly all the boys had one. Sometimes there were so many going up
and down a street that it was hard for cars or the city bus to get through. I
got one of my sister’s old skates and took it apart. I nailed one piece to one
end of a piece of 2”x4” lumber (from the junk pile across the highway) and the
other piece of skate to the other end. Then I scavenged a discarded orange
crate from behind the Acme Market. I nailed it on the front end of the 2”x4”.
On top the crate I fastened two pieces of wood to hold on to. With one foot on
the 2”x4” and the other foot pumping, I could make the orange crate scooter fly
down the street. With no brakes, they were wonderfully scary and dangerous
going down a hill. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">My father had three jobs. He was a machinist in
the Mt. Clare Shops of the B&O Railroad. He was in charge of two huge
turret lathes that could turn the driving wheels of steam passenger engines.
Every one of the machinist apprentices had to spend six weeks or longer learning
to operate these giant lathes. They did most of the work and had to clean the
machines at the beginning and end of each shift. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Dad sold hot dogs and coffee. The man in charge of
the Shops heartily approved of it. He sent workers in to put in heavy duty
electric receptacles and to run a water line. Dad was there beside his
machines, watching the apprentices, making coffee, boiling hot dogs. The men
poured their own coffee, fixed their own hot dogs, and dropped ten cents in a
can for each hot dog or each cup of coffee. Dad said that he made as much money
from the coffee and hot dogs as he did as a machinist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There were many new houses being built in
Baltimore and Baltimore County. Dad met up with a man from Elkins who had his
own company installing aluminum storm windows and doors. Later he added
aluminum window awnings. Dad would go out in the evenings and on Saturdays to
these new housing developments. For the first several years or more, Dad could
sell storm windows and doors or awnings and FHA or VA would just add it to the
mortgage of a new house. I don’t know how much he made from selling, but I’m
sure it was a lot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One day a strange thing happened at our church. A
young man was driving past the church on his way to work and his car stopped.
Nothing he tried would start it. He went to the door to the pastor’s study to
ask to use the phone to call his sister. The pastor was on his knees praying at
the time. The young man was taken aback. He started talking to our minister and
when he walked out, he had accepted Christ as Savior. When he got into the car,
it started immediately! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">His name was Tony York. He started attending
church regularly and in time became a member. Though he was older than most of
us he came to the youth group. After she graduated from high school, he began
dating Nancy Eisinger. I lost touch with them after we moved from Armistead
Gardens. They married. He was a Presbyterian minister for a while then became a
professor of literature at University of Cleveland. Nancy became the owner of an
investment bank in Cleveland, Ohio. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-10201142320751246192018-05-05T19:40:00.000-07:002018-05-05T19:40:07.489-07:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER EIGHT<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That fall, I was transferred to Clifton Park
Junior High School. It was in an attractive setting. It was on the southern end
of Clifton Park, The Park ran alongside the eastern edge of Harford Road. In
Clifton Park there were a band stand, a golf course, and tennis courts. At the
northern end of the Park, City College, an all-male high school, sat up on a
high hill. Diagonally across Harford Road from the end of Clifton Park was Lake
Montebello which had a paved walk and wrought iron fence all around the lake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I don’t remember much about Clifton Park Junior
High School. According to my report card from there I attended September 1952
to February 1953. Then I was promoted to Grade 9A in the Poly A Course.
Sometime between September 1952 and February 1953 I had a recurrence of
rheumatic fever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">This time I remained in bed except to go to the
toilet. This time I found many things to do while remaining in bed. The
teachers at Clifton Park sent assignments for me to do. A young lady, Charlotte
Ickes, brought the work from school and carried my completed work back to
school a couple times a week. I hardly ever saw her because she would come to
the door and make the exchange with my mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I had the radio and sometimes I even listened to
ball games. I built airplanes from kits using balsam wood and tissue paper. My
Dad would hang them from the ceiling with black thread. A breeze blowing
through the room would move them like they were really flying. There were at
least a dozen hanging from the ceiling over my bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I saved the balsam wood scraps from the model
airplanes and I began to build models of houses. I used either photographs of
the houses of family or pictures of houses from magazines. I cut out the walls
and roofs of the houses from corrugated cardboard. I cut out where there were
windows or doors. Dad bought pieces of paper printed with brick, stucco, wood
siding, etc. from a hobby shop. I would glue this onto the cardboard walls and
cut out where the windows and doors were. Next, I used the scraps of balsam to
make window frames, doors, shutters. Where windows were located I glued
cellophane from cigarette packs on the back side of the cardboard. I assembled
the walls, put on the roof, glued emery paper or sandpaper on the roof and
finally affixed the chimney.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I also began a correspondence with Margaret
Denman, a distant cousin my age. My Grandmother Stalnaker connected us.
Margaret’s family had lived in Elkins. Her father committed suicide and her
mother and the children moved to Hopewell to be near the mother of Margaret’s
mother. Margaret and I began to write long letters to each other. This
continued all the time that I was bedridden. After that the letters were only
occasional.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">During that time, I learned about Reichardt
Taylor, a Presbyterian missionary in Brazil. He might have been a brother to
Margaret’s mother and Virginia Taylor. I wrote about a half dozen letters to
him. He responded with very long letters describing in one letter how he would
drive as far as he could go in a car, borrow a donkey or horse and go as far as
it could take him, then hike through jungle to get to an isolated home. He said
there would always be a Singer sewing machine that he could use as his pulpit.
In his career he established forty-five churches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When I was in the tenth grade, Billy Graham came
to Richmond, Virginia. Margaret invited me to come to hear him. My father got
me a pass on the train from Baltimore to Richmond and back. Virginia Taylor,
Margaret’s aunt picked me up at the train station and took me to the meeting
that night. Margaret was with us. We had supper at Virginia’s before the
meeting. Virginia took us to the meeting, took Margaret home afterward, and I
stayed overnight at Virginia’s. Miss Taylor had a real nice home, but Margaret
lived in a really dilapidated cottage. I think she had some brothers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When I was twenty, I drove to Richmond to meet
Reichardt who was home on furlough. He and his family were staying in one of
the missionary homes on the campus of Presbyterian School of Christian
Education. I met Margaret some place in Richmond and she showed me the way to
where Reichardt was staying. We visited with him for several hours. He made
espresso coffee for us and tried to teach us some words and phrases in Portugese.
Afterward I took Margaret to Grandmother Stalnaker’s apartment in Washington,
DC. We visited with her for an hour or so. I took Margaret to wherever she was
going in Washington. That was the last time I saw her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Apparently, I returned to Clifton Park Junior High
School and completed the first semester of the eighth grade in February 1953.
Then a strange thing happened. I was called to the office and interviewed by
several men who asked if I would like to enroll in the Poly A Course.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There were two all-male high schools in Baltimore,
City College and Baltimore Polytechnic Institute. There were also two all-female
high schools, Eastern High School and Western High School. All four of these
high schools had an A course. The A course was four years long. Any student who
completed four years of the A course would be accepted at almost any college or
university as a sophomore. To remain in the A course you had to keep your
grades at a B level. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I jumped at the chance. I assumed that I would
begin the following September. Instead of being promoted from 8A to 8B, I was
promoted to 9A in the Poly A course.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Whereas Clifton Park Junior High was located at
the end of a beautiful park, Baltimore Polytechnic Institute, a beautiful old
building built like the buildings in ancient Greece, faced a wide noisy street,
North Avenue. The neighborhood surrounding the school was shabby and not
altogether safe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The first semester I had Algebra, Geometry,
History, French, English, Mechanical Drawing, Shop, and Gym. My grades for the
first semester were in the high eighties or the nineties except for English,
Gym, and Shop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Whenever they had assembly for the whole school,
everyone had to remain standing until the principal entered and he would shout
“Freedom!” The assembly would respond, “Responsibility!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would never be satisfied the first time or
the second. He would call out “Freedom!” and the assembled students would sound
off “Responsibility!” Finally, on the third attempt the principal was usually
satisfied and would motion for us to be seated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I did not fit in with the other students. I wasn’t
invited into their conversations in the hallways or at lunch. If I had been, I
would not have had anything to add. They belonged to clubs and organizations I
knew nothing about. They went to parties, to the country clubs. They played
golf and tennis. They dressed in chinos and shirts with button down collars. My
shirts were ripped out in the elbows. My trousers were hand me downs from the
church. My shoes had holes in the soles. I constantly felt inwardly
embarrassed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I went to the office after the first semester and
begged to be transferred to Patterson High School the next year. That is where
most of the young people from Armistead Gardens were going. They refused. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<br />Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-46374955815025701612018-04-04T20:52:00.001-07:002018-04-04T20:52:43.289-07:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER SEVEN<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>There has not been much interest in ARMISTEAD GARDENS. Therefore, I am not going to post any more fictional chapters. I will just post the factual chapters until I come to the time we moved from Armistead Gardens.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I’m not sure when Dad bought the first car we
owned in Baltimore. I think it was when I was thirteen. It was a green 1940
Chevrolet. What I remember most about that car was Dad working on it. He put
new brake shoes and a clutch in it and maybe other parts. While he was working
on it, I had to stay right with him. He wanted me to learn to work on cars. He
would ask me to hand him tools. I didn’t know the names of the tools and that
would frustrate him. If he was under the car working, my mind would wander. I
wasn’t paying attention to him. Sometimes I would leave and go back into the
house to a book I had been reading.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When he was changing the clutch, somehow the
pressure plate came out. It had a lot of springs and Dad didn’t know how to put
it back. He was in a foul mood and then a worried mood, probably thinking he
would have to have it towed to a garage to have a mechanic repair it. He
couldn’t afford a towing bill or a mechanic. Eventually he found a man who
lived in the new section who had a 1947 Chevrolet. He came to where Dad had the
car jacked up on the street outside our house and showed Dad how to put the
pressure plate and clutch into the car.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In about a year Dad traded for a 1947 Chevrolet.
It was a beautiful deep red car. On our first trip to West Virginia in the car
something happened to the generator. After pulling off the road and trying to
fix it in the dead of the night, Dad decided to try to make it into Elkins on
just battery power. By the mercies of God, we made it. The first thing the next
morning, he and Uncle Don were working on the car. I think it was on that trip
that on the way home we met a family whose car had run out of gas. Dad asked if
they has a clean container into which he could siphon some gas. With tears in
her eyes, the mother emptied a jar of home-canned green beans and handed him
the jar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The next car he traded for was a 1950 Ford
Crestliner. It was Hawaiian Bronze and Chocolate Brown with a vinyl roof. Dad
extended the rear bumper and mounted a spare tire from off a Ford in the ‘30s.
He painted it Chocolate Brown. The car looked very sporty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">By 1954 he bought his first new car, a 1954 Ford
four door sedan. It was metallic blue. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">While I was thirteen, I joined the Boy Scouts for
a brief period of time. The Scoutmaster was Mr. Crumbaker. I remember one time
I had to memorize Psalm 23. I remember standing outside his door reciting it.
He had two boys and a girl. One of the boys Alan was crippled. He had a great
personality and had a lot of friends. He went a lot of places with the young
people, and rode the city buses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The Boy Scouts were going on an overnight camping
trip to Herring Run Park. I didn’t have a knapsack and couldn’t afford to buy
one. My mother gave me one of my sister’s old, full skirts. It was cotton, a
red, white, and blue design. Without any sort of pattern, I cut out pieces and
sewed together a capacious knapsack with a flap and thick shoulder straps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We went in cars to a camping area in Herring Run
Park. Mr. Crumbaker wanted the boys to set up tents right away. After being
crammed together in a couple cars for two hours or more, they all ran off in
different directions. I walked by myself trying to orient myself. The other
boys had probably been there on other occasions. It started getting dark and
raining about the same time. I turned around and headed back to where the cars
were parked. They were gone!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Evidently, when it began raining, the decision was
made to forget about camping and go back home. I had been left. I walked down
the access road to Belair Road and started walking south. Someone saw me
walking, offered me a lift, and took me to where the city bus which ran along Belair
Road had its terminus. He was even kind enough to give me enough change for bus
fare. I rode the city bus on Belair Road and disembarked at Sinclair Lane. Then
I had more than a mile to walk along Sinclair Lane to Armistead Gardens and
home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When I arrived at home my parents were surprised
to see me. They thought I was having a miserable night sleeping on the ground
with rain possibly dripping through the canvas of a tent. When I told them what
had happened my father was furious. It is a good thing that he had already gone
to work when the Assistant Scoutmaster came to our house the next morning to
find out if I had got home all right and to apologize. He said it was partly my
fault because I had wandered away from the group. That was the end of my Boy
Scout experience.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Alricks Way was the northern boundary of the
project. One of my friends, Kenny Sherman, lived on Alricks Way. At first Kenny
played guitar. Later, he graduated to a five-string banjo. By the time we were
in high school he had his own blue grass band. Beverly’s first serious boy
friend was the guitarist in Kenny’s band. Kenny played at church and school and
at other places where they were invited. Kenny had a younger brother and a
sister who was a musical prodigy. When she was about four years old, maybe
younger, if she heard a piece of music on the radio, she would climb up on the
piano bench and play the music exactly as it had been played on the radio.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The summer I was thirteen I had a terrifying
experience on Alricks Way. I was walking along and two houses from the
Sherman’s house a white spitz dog came running from off its porch, jumped over
the chain link fence and clamped onto my left leg halfway above the knee. It
hung onto me, the whole weight of the dog hanging on my leg. Someone ran out of
the house yelling at the dog and hitting it with something. The dog let go and
ran off. The person was more interested in catching the runaway dog than in
finding out if I was all right. I had several blocks to walk home. I was blind
with pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mom cleaned up the wound and bandaged it up the
best that she could. She sent me to the doctor whose office was on the corner
of Harper Way and Wright Avenue. I don’t remember what all he did. I do
remember that he said that if the dog could not be captured and tested that I
would have to have a series of rabies shots in my belly. I think it took some
police involvement, but the dog was tested and it was negative for rabies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That summer our church had a week of evangelistic
meetings. The preacher for the week took me with him several afternoons when he
was going door-to-door inviting people to the meetings and asking what their
standing was with God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mrs. Himes took me with her visiting sometimes. I
remember one time when she went to a house where neighbors had reported
children crying. The door was unlocked so we went inside. There was a baby in a
crib that was listless and it had not had its diaper changed in a long time.
She did what she could. There was not any useable food in the refrigerator. She
started cleaning the children as best as she could and sent me to find a
neighbor with a phone to call the police and have them send an ambulance. She
told me to try to bum some bread and jelly sandwiches and some milk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The Lord was using experiences like that to point
me to the ministry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One of the women who attended the Wednesday
evening prayer and Bible study meeting was an immigrant from the Netherlands.
She had gone through the War with Nazi occupation of Holland. She had heard
about the Baltimore School of the Bible and said that she was going to start
that fall. She invited anyone who wanted to accompany her. I told her that I
was interested. When it began, we went to the classes they had on Monday
nights.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">About this time Rev. Charles Browning departed and
was replaced by Rev. Robert A. Chamberlain, Ph.D. Dr. Chamberlain was a
graduate of Columbia University and the Union Seminary in New York. He had a
time becoming acclimated to a working class, Southern Presbyterian church. His
wife was also from Holland. Unlike the woman I mentioned above, Mrs.
Chamberlain had a thick accent. I remember one year Dr. Chamberlain preached on
all the kings of Israel one at a time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-63072801488775589132018-03-29T21:38:00.000-07:002018-03-29T21:38:00.635-07:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER SIX<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i>Chapter Six is a continuation of Chapter Five. I thought it best not to break them up with a fictional chapter in between.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">All of my thirteenth summer, I went once a week
with my mother to a clinic at Johns Hopkin Hospital. The walls of the hallways
were painted dark brown. We sat on hard wooden benches waiting to be called. A
nurse would take a large syringe of my blood, and would take it to the lab.
Then we would wait for a long time again. I think a doctor talked to Mom
sometimes. The conclusion of our visit was that I would get a shot of
penicillin in my rear end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That fall, I went to P.S.83 expecting to be put
into the second half of the sixth grade which I had missed by being sick. I
found out that Christ Child Farm had sent a report card for the classes I
attended there. P.S.83 accepted it and promoted me to the seventh grade. I was
told to go to P.S.40, Fortview Junior High School.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The school was in Canton. I think that I had to
take two buses to go to Highlandtown. Then I had four or five blocks to walk to
get to the school. The first two blocks were up a steep hill. I can still
remember that walk in the winter with bitter cold wind blowing in off the
harbor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The school was named Fortview, because from
windows on one side of the building and even from the playground on that side,
you could see Fort McHenry across the harbor. Whereas the playground at P.S.83
had been concrete, the playground at Fortview was macadam.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The classes were excellent. The teachers were all
good instructors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only teacher who
was unpleasant was the gym teacher. He didn’t like it that I was excused from
gym. He would make me change into gym clothes, sit in the bleachers while the
other boys were doing the running and playing he had planned, and then shower
and change back into street clothes along with the rest of the boys.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There was a heroin problem in that school. I heard
that the drug peddlers would tell the girls that if they took a shot of heroin
that they would have a vision of the Virgin Mary. One day they took us in
groups of boys or groups of girls to the nurse’s office. There we had to take
off all our clothes except our underpants. The nurse examined us closely for
needle marks. I had many needle marks from my weekly visits to the clinic. I
was taken with several other boys to the police station. I explained to the
nurse and the police about going to the clinic. My parents didn’t have a
telephone and I didn’t know the phone number of any neighbors. They called the
clinic. Someone there promised to call back. It was several hours before
someone called back to verify that I was a patient and had blood tests taken
every week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The next year, I was transferred to Clifton Park
Junior High School. Sometime during the year, I contracted rheumatic fever a
second time. This time I didn’t go to the hospital or Christ Child Farm. I
stayed in bed and tried to get better. I found several activities to occupy
myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The school sent homework to me by way of a girl
who lived in Armistead Gardens and was in my classes, Charlotte Ickes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">My Grandmother Stalnaker worked as head of about
forty secretaries and stenographers for the Alien Property Custodian in
Washington, DC. During World War 2 the federal government seized all the assets
of citizens of Germany, Italy, Japan, and other Axis countries. Now that the
War was over, the government had the responsibility of determining rightful
owners and returning the property and assets. One of my grandmother’s bosses
was a stamp collector. He suggested to her that since I was restricted to
sedentary activities I might be interested in stamp collecting. He gave her an
old album that he was finished with. Thereafter she asked the secretaries to give
her the envelopes they received from foreign countries or to tear off the
section where the stamp was affixed. Soon she was sending me envelopes bulging
with stamps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">These stamps were not only a hobby but they
broadened my intellectual world. I often did a good bit of research just to
find out what country a stamp was from. I was learning what a large number of
countries there were. I was stimulated to find out a little bit about each of
the countries whose stamps I was mounting in the album.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">For Christmas that year I asked for a new stamp
album because the stamp album I had been given didn’t have any post-War stamps
of the various countries. My parents bought my sister a table model radio with
a bakelite case. They bought me the stamp album I requested. Coming home Dad
slipped on the ice and dropped the radio. The bakelite case cracked all around
the bottom. He used some type of cement to put it back together. They decided
Beverly would never accept it in that condition. They gave me the radio and
Beverly the stamp album. Grandmother now had to divide the stamps into two
envelopes – one for me and one for Beverly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I was becoming active in the youth group at church
and it was there that I made friends with Duane Dearth. We were best friends
for the remainder of the time I lived in Armistead Gardens.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">My Grandmother also put me in touch with a distant
cousin. Margaret Denman and I had a lot in common. We wrote back and forth
about every other day while I was bedridden. Then the letter writing faded. I
did meet up with her again when Billy Graham held a Cusade in Richmond,
Virginia. My father got a free pass on the train for me. A distant aunt, whom
we called “Jidge” and who was a close relative of Margaret, picked me up at the
train, fixed supper for me. Maybe we went to the Crusade that evening. Margaret
was at Jidge’s and the three of us went to the Crusade together. She took
Margaret home after the Crusade. The next day after breakfast we picked
Margaret up at her home and they took me on a tour of Hopewell, Virginia where
they both lived. Jidge lived in a fine brick home. I couldn’t believe how
rundown was the wood house in which Margaret lived. After the tour of Hopewell, they took me to the
train.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One Saturday, I was listening to a country music
program sponsored by Johnny’s Used Cars. Johnny had lived in Armistead Gardens
a long time and now had a successful used car business in the center of the
city. There was an announcement of a Youth For Christ rally in the Odd Fellows’
Hall in downtown Baltimore. That evening they would have Percy Crawford as the
speaker and a quartet from Kings College, Briarcliff Manor, New York. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I was intrigued and went all through the project
to the houses of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>members of the church
youth group. Quite a few of them agreed to go with me. We had to ride the city
bus to downtown Baltimore. The Odd Fellows’ Hall was a large old building. The
auditorium was very large. There must have been several hundred young people or
more. The rally began with a lot of singing of hymns and gospel songs. The
pianist was extraordinary. She made the notes sparkle. The quartet was good and
they kept up a lively banter with Percy Crawford, the President of Kings’
College and his wife.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Rev. Crawford was an outstanding evangelist. In
his message that evening he made it clear what it meant to be a sinner, what
the consequences were of remaining a sinner, what the good news of salvation
meant. I had joined the church when I was twelve years old. That night when the
invitation was given to accept Christ, be born again, and become a Christian I
went forward without any hesitation. I know that I was born again that evening<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-57980502615174832292018-03-15T21:28:00.000-07:002018-03-15T21:28:10.555-07:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER FIVE<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18.6667px; text-align: center;">The chapters which are numerical are factual. The chapters which are alphabetical are fiction, though in some instances the fiction modestly drapes what is factual. I will post one chapter a week, alternating factual and fiction.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I was twelve years old. It was December and cold.
I had spent most of Saturday outside the Acme Market with my wagon. Along with
a half dozen other boys with wagons, I wanted to haul groceries for people who
had been shopping. Otherwise, they would have to carry their groceries to their
home while walking in the slush and patches of ice. Some of the boys had
regular patrons who looked for “their boy” every week. Other boys were more
aggressive than I was in asking to haul the person’s groceries even before they
went into the store.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I think that I only had two or three persons for
whom I hauled bags of groceries that day. It was very cold and windy. We
huddled up against the wall outside the store trying to keep warm. The previous
store manager had allowed us to stand inside the store where the grocery carts
were lined up. The current manager would not allow us to come inside. He didn’t
want us to “bother” the customers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The next day, I was sick and in the days following,
I was sicker. My throat was red and swollen, I was running high temperatures. I
had strep throat. After that, my joints became inflamed. My father was
furloughed from work and my parents had no money for a doctor or medicine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Someone told my parents about a Jewish doctor, Dr.
Moses, who they were sure would come to the house and see me. He did. He
prescribed sulphur drugs at first and gave my mother the medicine. His
tentative diagnosis was rheumatic fever. My symptoms differed from the usual.
My joints were red and inflamed but they were not swollen. For that reason, he
wanted me to be admitted to the hospital. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">At that time Johns Hopkin Hospital was conducting
clinical trials of a drug (?ACTH?) to treat rheumatic fever patients. He told
my parents about it and let them make the decision, but he advised against it.
Some years later, persons who had been treated with that drug developed serious
complications. Instead, he arranged for me to be <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>admitted to Sinai Hospital.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I was in a children’s ward with at least twenty
children in the ward. It was one of their charity wards. Children whose parents
could afford it were in semi-private rooms on the same floor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Electrocardiagrams were new technology. Every day
a technician would roll the EKG machine up to my bed. It was in a wooden
cabinet like a fine radio. She would attach a dozen or more wires to various
parts of my chest. When she started the machine, a strip of paper would roll
out. After she was finished, a doctor would look at the paper and put marks on
it with his pen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There was a machine which required the patient to
swallow barium while the doctor was watching a life–size screen. The nurse
mixed chocolate syrup with the barium which made it taste like a chocolate
flavored mud pie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Every day or so a doctor would come to my bed with
a dozen or more medical students standing around. He would rapidly give a
summary of the symptoms which led to my hospitalization. He would pass around
some of the EKG strips and explain the places he marked. He would always pull
up my gown and point out that although my joints were red and hot to the touch
they were not swollen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Christmas was near. The younger children wondered
if Santa would be able to find them. They wanted to know why there was no
Christmas tree. One boy, who was a know-it-all, said, “You dummies. There ain’t
no Christmas tree because this is a Jewish hospital and Jews don’t have no
Christmas.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Were we ever in for a surprise. The day before
Christmas, we were taken into the large room next to the ward where sometimes
there were meetings for the doctors and nurses. In the room there was a piano,
a floor to ceiling Christmas tree, and enough tables and chairs for all the
children. The children from the semi-private rooms were also brought in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One of the doctors sat down at the piano and began
playing and leading us in singing Christmas carols. A lot of others doctors and
nurses were there singing. One of them read the Christmas story from Luke’s
Gospel and another read “T’was the night before Christmas.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">After that Santa Claus came. His bag couldn’t hold
all the presents. His elves followed carrying more bags. The presents were all
really nice. I’m sure that none of us children on the charity ward would ever
expect to receive even one present so fine. The dolls the girls received were
large, in boxes and with exquisite clothes. Every child received three
presents. After that there were refreshments. The nurses made sure that each
child only received food their charts allowed, but they did it so unobtrusively
that no child was embarrassed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Several hours after the party, my parents came for
me. I was discharged and went home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I was on orders to stay in bed. I found out months
later that the rheumatic fever had left a hole in my heart and bed rest was the
only treatment they knew for it. With rest the heart might heal itself. I was
supposed to stay in bed and only get up to go to the toilet. My mother <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>brought my meals to me. She tried to keep me
in bed, but I was always jumping up to get something, or to torment my sister when
she was home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">It was driving my mother crazy trying to keep me
in bed, much less, resting. My maternal grandmother Stalnaker lived and worked
in Washington, DC. She told my mother about Christ Child Farm in Rockville,
Maryland, a convalescent home for children. A woman who lived down the street
had a phone and allowed my mother to use it to call Christ Child Farm. She had
an automobile and offered to drive us there when they told my mother they would
admit me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Christ Child Farm was out in the country. (I think it has now been engulfed by Rockville, MD.) It was
probably a two hour drive from Armistead Gardens. It was a huge wood frame two
story house surrounded by a large lawn and a farm. It had been established by
an elderly woman so crippled with arthritis that she seemed almost in a ball. I
saw her twice when she came to visit. She lived in the house and managed the
farm until she became invalided. She was a devout Catholic and was said to be
very wealthy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">On the first floor of this huge house were
offices, a kitchen, a dining room, and the classroom. Upstairs were three
dormitory rooms, a doctor’s office, toilets, bathtubs, and sinks. I was in the
boys’ dormitory. There were about ten beds on either side of the large room and
there were windows along one wall and one window on the end. I was in the last
bed on the right. Across from me in the last bed on the left was a boy about my
age who had one lung collapsed. He was quiet and agreeable. His name was
Donald. During the day, he always wore “farmer jakes.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">A woman doctor came about once a week. Shetold me that I had a hole in my heart caused by the rheumatic fever.
She said the best treatment was strict bed rest so that the heart could heal
itself. For a couple months I was in bed or on my bed all the time except to go
to the toilet or to wash up and brush my teeth in the morning. I think once a
week I took a bath. Instead of tooth paste, at each sink there was a dish with
baking soda and salt mixed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Once, there was a priest who visited us from one
of the eastern European countries. I think it was Romania. He gave each of us
children a rosary. He told about the poor women of the village who strung these
rosaries to earn a few cents to feed their children. Donald and I were twirling
the rosary we were given around on our fingers. Mine hit the metal footboard of
my bed. The rosary broke and beads went flying all over the room. I’ll never
forget the sight of that old priest weeping and crawling around on the floor
picking up those sacred beads.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">After a couple months, I was allowed to go downstairs
for meals and for school. I could walk down the stairs slowly, one step at a
time. Going up the stairs I had to sit on the step, count to ten, then lift
myself up to the next step, count to ten, etc. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Meals were in a large dining room with several large
tables. School was in one room with all grades in the same room, although the
younger children must have had school at a different time or place. As I
remember, there were only the older children in my class. The teacher was a nun
but she wore a suit and blouse, instead of a habit. She taught us well. I
skipped a half grade when I returned to public school. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When warm weather came, I was allowed to go
outside. I wasn’t allowed to run. I could swing if I didn’t jump off of it. My
parents weren’t able to come and see me often because of the distance. Once one
of my uncles who lived in Washington brought them to see me. Another time Uncle
Don and Aunt Delania brought my parents and grandparents to see me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">About June or July, the doctor said that my heart
had healed enough that I could go home if I would rest and not be running
around. When my parents brought me home, there was a surprise to help me take
it easy. They had bought a Muntz 16 inch, black and white television!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<br />Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-89165712279389509582018-03-01T20:34:00.000-08:002018-03-01T20:34:02.446-08:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER D<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18.6667px; text-align: center;">The chapters which are numerical are factual. The chapters which are alphabetical are fiction, though in some instances the fiction modestly drapes what is factual. I will post one chapter a week, alternating factual and fiction.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mr. William Fitch was an elder in the Presbyterian
Church and a Freemason. He worked as a foreman at Hill-Chase Steel which was
only a couple miles from Armistead Gardens. He had a son and a daughter. He had
named the son John Calvin Fitch. His wife, a former Methodist named the
daughter Susannah in honor of Susannah Wesley. The daughter was a diligent
student, was faithful in attending Sunday School and Church, and had high moral
standards. The son was in the last year of high school, but it was questionable
whether he would graduate. He had not been to Church in years and was only
interested in having a good time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">John Calvin owned a 1938 Buick. It was pretty
shabby and rusty when he got it, but he worked hard sanding off the rust and
cleaning it up. He had much mechanical work to do, but he had a lot of help
from his friends. When all the rust had been sanded and the body wiped down, he
painted it with a rag and a can of outdoor oil paint.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">John Calvin was forming a gang. The car took them
to a place of crime they had already chosen, and it carried them away when the
mischief was complete. On occasion they would go to a festival in one of the
ethnic neighborhoods. One boy would snatch a handbag, pass it off to another
gang member who would put it in a shopping bag and walk the other way. The
“snatcher” didn’t run away but stood there while all around him were yelling
and looking around. Working in pairs, they would only take four purses before
leaving and going to some other place where there was a crowd. Back home they
took the money from the purses, then put the purses in a burn barrel, poured a
cup of fuel oil on them, and burned them .<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">On other occasions they would all go into a store.
All but one would go into the back of the store and create a commotion so as to
draw the clerk away from the cash register. The one who was alone and near the
register would open the register, grab the money and stroll out of the store.
If anything, such as someone entering the store, would hinder him from opening
the register and taking the money without being observed, he left the store.
When he left the store, whether with the money or without it, that was the
signal to stop the commotion and leave the store.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There were a half dozen or more other well planned
schemes used by these thieves. Since they were petty thefts and did not follow
the same pattern each time, they did not draw much attention from the police.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In January most of the men in Armistead Gardens
had been furloughed since mid-December and did not expect to be called back to
work until March. The fuel oil barrels were empty and nearly every house was
damp and chilly. As usual the oil barrels of the Freemasons, including Mr.
Fitch and most of the other elders, were filled up by some oil company that
usually did not service Armistead Gardens customers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">John decided to find a way to thumb his nose at
the Church and the Freemasons. It was time for a Robbing Hood escapade. He took
the members of his gang to several fuel oil companies and had them observe the
daily routine. They noted that the trucks’ oil tanks were filled at the end of
each day. The next day they scouted several other companies. They then waited
for Sunday to carry out a carefully planned oil heist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">They found two oil companies whose trucks were not
kept inside chain link fences. In the early hours of a Sabbath morning they
went to these two companies, hot-wired several trucks at each location and
drove them to Armistead Gardens. Each truck took one of the streets in the old
section and went down the street filling every oil drum on the street. If
anyone awoke and asked questions, they were told the oil was a gift from the
Salvation Army. The trucks all finished their benevolence runs about the same
time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When the people arrived at the Presbyterian Church
for Sunday School there was a lot of fussing. There was no place to park. Six
fuel oil trucks were parked on the street in front and along the side of the
church.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About the
time that church was over, the street was jammed with police cars and pickup trucks
bearing the same logos as the oil trucks parked around the Church. The police
dusted the trucks for fingerprints. There were none since John’s men had all
worn work gloves, just like all the legitimate drivers of these trucks. It was
mid-afternoon before drivers were found and the trucks were returned to where
they belonged. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There were many homes in the old section of Armistead
Gardens warm as toast in the following weeks thanks to the Robbing Hood merry
men. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<br />Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-14098384228848057862018-02-22T20:32:00.003-08:002018-02-22T20:32:37.887-08:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER FOUR<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18.6667px; text-align: center;">The chapters which are numerical are factual. The chapters which are alphabetical are fiction, though in some instances the fiction modestly drapes what is factual. I will post one chapter a week, alternating factual and fiction.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The main thoroughfare in the new section was
Wright Avenue. On the eastern end of Wright Avenue there was a large plot of
land. One corner of it was designated for the rental and maintenance office
buildings. About half of it was designated for a school. By the time my little
brother started school there was an Armistead Gardens Elementary School. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">About the same time the school building was begun,
the Presbyterian Church gained the right to build a church on the ground which
was designated for a church. Potomac Presbytery donated money for the building
as did Glenn L. Martin, Bethlehem Steel, and the American Stores (which was
owned by Scotch-Irish Presbyterians). Of course, the people of the church had a
building fund. I remember the cornerstone laying ceremony. There was a huge
crowd there. A Masonic Lodge had charge of the ceremony.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The building was large. A sanctuary that seated
200 people, two Sunday School rooms, a choir room (which was also used as the
Session meeting room) and the pastor’s study were on the first floor. In the
basement there were a fellowship hall which had a stage with curtains, a
kitchen, and three additional Sunday School rooms. The building was made of
concrete blocks with stucco on the outside and plastered inside walls. The sanctuary
was Colonial style painted white with red maple trim. The chancel was divided
with a pulpit on one side and a lectern on the other. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">It was a very active church. The sanctuary was
full every Sunday morning. At least once a year the church had a week of
evangelistic services. During that week, members of the church would go out
into the various streets in the project going door to door inviting the
residents to come to the meetings. Several times, when I was in my teens, I was
invited to visit homes with the evangelist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In addition to the Sunday School, there were youth
groups, an evening service, and a midweek prayer and Bible Study meeting. I
joined the church when I was 12 years old. For young persons to join the
church, they attended classes on the Westminster Shorter Catechism conducted by
the pastor. After a year of classes, they were examined by the Session. An
elder could ask a young person anything, but they mostly asked questions from
the Catechism. The next Sunday the young people were asked the questions for
membership from the Book of Order and then were admitted as members of the
church. Those who had not been baptized as infants were baptized. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">During the summer, there were tent meetings in the
suburbs of Baltimore. Our boys’ Sunday School teacher, Mr. Loudermilk, would
sometimes take several of us boys and his son to a tent meeting. It was a
different type of service and a different form of preaching than what we were
used to in the Presbyterian Church. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When we started going to church in the community
building the minister was Rev. Charles Browning. He was a mild-mannered person.
I don’t think he was married. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">While the church was still in the community
building, the church acquired a parish visitor, Miss Hazel Himes. Her mother
lived with her. My parents did not attend church, but they always made sure
that we children attended Sunday School. After the services moved into the new
church building, my sister and I began attending the morning worship services
also.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Miss Himes was from Pennsylvania and was not a
Presbyterian. She was a United Brethren. My mother was United Brethren. When we
lived in Elkins we were sent to the Presbyterian Sunday School one Sunday, then
the United Brethren Sunday School the next Sunday. The United Brethren won out
on baptism. My sister and I were baptized in the United Brethren Church. When
World War 2 broke out, the church changed its services from German to English.
The elderly former pastor who had preached in German sat in one of the pulpit
chairs in every service. He still performed the baptisms in German.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In the spring and summer Dad did a lot to fix up
the outside of the house. One thing he did every year was build a lattice work
across about half of the house. It had a lot of strings running up to the roof.
He would plant castor beans. He had to cut into each one or it wouldn’t sprout.
They came up quickly and grew rapidly. Soon there was a blanket of leaves
stretching from the ground to the roof. In the hot Baltimore summers they did a
lot to keep the house cooler.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mom planted flowers. She planted hollyhocks on
either side of the front door. After they bloomed, Beverly and her friends
often amused themselves making dolls from the buds and the blooms. On the
sidewalk leading to the street Mom planted a border of rose moss every year.
Rose moss is a short plant with spike-like leaves and delicate flowers of many
colors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Baltimore was tearing down old row houses in a
slum clearance endeavor. The bricks from these demolished houses were soon in
demand for new houses. When these bricks of many hues, some blackened from fire
or colored from painted graffiti were mixed up they made an attractive brick
wall of many hues and colors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Across Pulaski Highway on vacant lots beside and
behind the row of shops, the unsalable refuse of these demolitions was being
dumped. My father began taking me over there to retrieve the lath that was
discarded. Lath from old houses is very rough wood about an inch wide and ¼
inch thick. We kept hauling the lath to our yard until there were piles of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Dad then began building a fence with posts about
every six feet and runners. Then he began cutting pickets from pieces of lath.
Each piece was pointed on top. The work of sawing hundreds of pickets is hard
for me to understand as an adult. Once he began sawing, the task of salvaging
lath fell upon me. I had to hustle to keep up with him. I started work after
school. He had already worked eight hours at a lathe before he started sawing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Dad not only built a picket fence but a gate and
an archway. We couldn’t afford paint for the fence, so Dad bought a bag of
lime. Like Tom<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sawyer I whitewashed the
fence. The lath was thirsty after decades holding up plaster in the old houses.
Sometimes it took two coats of whitewash before it was white.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">My father’s father loved roses. He had well over a
hundred bushes in his back yard. He would take cuttings from rose bushes he
liked, put the cutting in sand with a canning jar over it. In about a month he
could plant it in the yard. Dad learned a lot about roses from his father. After
we had a fence, he planted a half dozen or more rose bushes which he also grew
from cuttings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Dad also made some Adirondack lawn chairs from
wood he salvaged. For several years he made lawn ornaments – a little girl
watering flowers, a momma duck with ducklings trailing behind her, etc. He would cut
out the figures and paint the background color. Then Mom painted in the detail.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">My sister took tap dancing lessons at the Fox
Mansion. She made a number of good friends of girls who lived in our
neighborhood. Some of them she continues to have as friends seventy years
later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I wanted to join the Cub Scouts. My father decided
that I would have to memorize the multiplication table before he would sign the
paper. I walked all over Armistead Gardens holding a composition notebook in
front of me. It had the multiplication table printed on the back. I would think
I had memorized it perfectly. He would ask me several problems, I’d make a
mistake and have to go back to memorizing. When I had memorized the table
perfectly, he signed the papers for me to join the Cub Scouts. I don’t remember
anything from the Cub Scouts, but knowing the answer to the multiplication of
two numbers, and knowing the factors in a large sum made algebra and
trigonometry so much easier for me than for most of my fellow students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<br />Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-13104232365853977712018-02-15T20:57:00.001-08:002018-02-15T20:57:58.258-08:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER C <i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18.6667px; text-align: center;">The chapters which are numerical are factual. The chapters which are alphabetical are fiction, though in some instances the fiction modestly drapes what is factual. I will post one chapter a week, alternating factual and fiction.</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The Poole family lived on Frailey Way. Jimmy was
ten. His sister Anna was nine and his brother Mike was four. They had a mother
and father, but Jimmy was the designated adult.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There was a knock on the door of the Poole’s home.
Mrs. Poole grabbed little Mike and whisked him to Anna’s room. Surprised by her
sudden action, Mike stopped wailing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Anna, someone is at the door. Please watch Mike
while they are here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Yes, Mother.” They had to call her “Mother.” She
said that only low class, ignorant people said “Ma” or “Mom.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">A change came over Mrs. Poole when she was in the
presence of those whom she considered “people of quality.” Her bearing no
longer had its usual weariness and despair. She stood straight and walked
confidently. Her voice altered and she sounded like a completely different
person. The children could see a change and hear the difference in her voice.
They couldn’t know that she had stepped into a wholly different place and time,
or so it seemed to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">She opened the door. “Why, hello, Miss Himes. How
nice it is to see you. Won’t you come in, please?” (Miss Himes was the Parish
Visitor for the Armistead Gardens Presbyterian Church.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Thank you, Mrs. Poole. It has been such a
pleasure to have your three children in Sunday School. They are there every
Sunday. I know that when children attend Sunday School so faithfully that it is
because they have parents who know the importance of Christian teaching. You
haven’t been coming with your children. We would love to have you take part in
our women’s class.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Miss Himes was dressed in an attractive cotton
dress with a flowery print. She had added a white lace removable collar. She
wore a white straw hat with a wide wavy brim decorated with a large daisy. She
was wearing light beige nylon stockings; her shoes were low heels, white with
blue trim.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mrs. Poole was wearing a shabby cotton dress, thin
with wear, whose pattern had been washed out. But she imagined that she too was
in a summery dress. She could smell the rose water she fancied she had splashed
on herself after a long relaxing bath. She was entertaining Miss Himes in
genteel surrounding, not a house in a low-rent project. There would soon be a
pitcher of lemonade and nice tall frosted glasses brought out by the maid. What
was taking the maid so long?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Mrs. Poole, you must have come from a Christian
home and background yourself. What church did you gow up in?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“My mother and her family were United Brethren.
That is the church to which I belong; Jimmy and Anna were baptized in that
church.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I am from Pennsylvania. I belonged to the United
Brethren church all my life. The church I am working for in Armistead Gardens
and where Jimmy, Anna, and Mike have been attending Sunday School is
Presbyterian. It is the only Protestant church in this community.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“My husband and his family are Presbyterians.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Invite him to take you to church with him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Yes….you do that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The mention of her husband suddenly brought her
back to reality. She felt uncomfortable. She was painfully aware and ashamed of
her shabby dress and worn-out shoes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Where are the children?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Jimmy is at the library. He sometimes stays there
until they close at 6:00 P.M. Anna has Mike back in her room entertaining him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Well, I’ll run along. Please remember that you
have a cordial invitation to the women’s Sunday School class at the
Presbyterian Church. And your husband can come to the men’s class. Both classes
meet while your children are in Sunday School.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Thank you for coming to see us, Miss Himes. Come
again whenever you can.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Glenda Poole went to the sofa torn between hope
and despair. There was no food and no money in the house. Today is payday. If
her husband comes home from work, they will go to the Acme Market and buy
several bags of groceries. If he doesn’t come home…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Tom Poole would sometimes go on drinking sprees of
two and three days. During that time, he would drink up or otherwise waste away
his pay for two weeks work. They lived from payday to payday and by payday
there was no food or money.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The next day there was fork toast for breakfast,
one slice for each of the children. Mrs, Poole told them she wasn’t hungry.
There was no bus fare so Jimmy and Anna couldn’t go to school that day. There
was no food for the rest of the day. That afternoon Mrs. Poole found a dime
while sorting the dirty clothes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Jimmy, I found a dime. I want you to take the bus
to Monument and Kresson Streets and see if you father is in the saloon. If he
is, tell him to come home. We need money for food before the store closes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Yes, Mother.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When Baltimore had streetcars, the terminus of
several streetcar lines was at Monument and Kresson Streets. A block-long car
barn was there. Half of the old car barn was now used by Baltimore Transit
Company to park and maintain buses. The other half was now a very large saloon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Jimmy was afraid to go on the bus alone at a time
when mostly adults were on it. He was even more afraid to go into that big
saloon. He had only seen it from the bus window. What would he do if his father
wasn’t there? He didn’t have a dime to ride the bus back home and it was a
very, very long walk along the highway to get back home. Jimmy knew that he
couldn’t tell his mother how scared he was or ask her what to do if his father
wasn’t there. She would just cry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Be careful, Jimmy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Yes, Mother,”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">He walked to the bus stop and waited for a bus to
come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Jimmy, what are you doing, waiting on the bus?”
It was a lady who he had seen at church, Mrs. Krantz. She was awfully nosy, but
he was glad someone he knew would be on the bus with him. There might be bad
people on the bus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Yes, ma’am, I have to run an errand for my
mother.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The bus came and they got onto it. Jimmy was glad
that he could sit next to Mrs. Krantz. He was thankful that the noise of the
bus engine made it impossible for her to ask any more questions. He was ashamed
of his errand. Too soon the bus arrived at Monument and Kresson.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">He went into the saloon. It was a very large room
with heavy, dark wooden tables and chairs. The bar was on the wall opposite the
entrance doors. It stretched the whole length of the room. Bottles of various
colored spirits behind the bar sparkled like jewels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neon logos of different brands of beer hung
on the walls providing the only illumination in the otherwise dark and dank
room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The air was cloudy with cigarette smoke. At the
tables men were talking, drinking, and smoking, but none of them seemed happy
or friendly. They were dressed in work clothes soiled from the day’s work.
Their clothes gave off the odor of where they worked – grease and cinders from
the railroaders, a garbage like smell from workers at the olive oil plant, and
the smell of pickles from the men who worked in the pickle factory across
Monument Street from the saloon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One of the men challenged him, “Hey, kid, whatda
yuz doin’ in here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Jimmy’s fright turned to terror. Then he saw that
his father was seated alone at the bar. Jimmy hurried to the stool where his
father was seated. His father turned his back away from him. He tugged at his
father’s trouser leg. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Hey, Tom, the old lady sent one of the brats to
bring you home.” The men all laughed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“What do you want?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Mother sent me to ask you to come home. We
haven’t eaten all day and the store will close in a couple hours.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Here’s some money. Tell her I’ll come home when I
am good and ready to come home.” Angrily grabbing some bills and change off the
bar, he threw them on the floor. Jimmy was shaking so hard that it was with
difficulty he picked up the money from the floor. Down at floor level there was
the smell of beer, tobacco, urine and vomit in the drafts of air. He was afraid
that he would throw up or cry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I won’t
cry, not in front of my father, not ever!”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">He kept a dime for the bus fare and stuffed the
rest of the money in his jacket pocket and zippered it shut. He didn’t remember
the bus ride home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Jimmy handed his mother the bills and change. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“What did your father say?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“He said he’d come home when he was good and ready
to come home.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">She gave an angry response to her absent husband,
slammed the money on the kitchen table, stomped into the living room, threw
herself onto the sofa, and commenced intermittently screaming and sobbing. Anna
turned and silently went to her room. Mike stood in the middle of the room
wailing and looking confused.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Jimmy took a dollar from the money she had thrown
on the table. He ran out the door to go to the Acme Market. Baked beans,
macaroni and cheese, bread. Maybe there will be enough for oleo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">By the time they had eaten, it was nearly bed
time. Jimmy went to the room he shared with Mike. While his mother was getting
Mike ready for bed, he lay on his bed and cried through his pain and fear and
confusion, muffling it with his pillow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Sometime after he had gone to sleep, he was
awakened by his father coming into the house and slamming the door. There was a
loud argument. He could tell that his mother was being hit. She ran into his
room and hid under the double bed. His father staggered through the house
looking for her, then detoured into the bathroom to noisily expel two days of
drinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After that, his father must
have gone to sleep. The house was quiet again. His mother crawled out from
under his bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Jimmy waited for a while, then tiptoed up the hall
to check on his mother. She was sitting at the chrome dinette set in the
kitchen. One eye was swollen, her cheek had an angry red spot, and one of her
lips was puffy. She was humming a French song she learned in high school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Alouette,
gentil alouette,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Alouette, je
te plumerai.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Je te plumerai la tete, je te plumerai la
tete,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Et la tete,
alouette.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">He looked into the living room and saw a big smear
of mustard on the wall. A bag with hot dogs was lying on the floor below it.
They were still warm. They had chili, mustard, and onions! He put the bag in
the refrigerator. In the bathroom he got a wet wash rag and tried to clean the
mustard off the wall. Then he went back to bed.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<br />Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-59991444784455077662018-02-08T16:59:00.000-08:002018-02-08T16:59:25.825-08:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER THREE<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18.6667px; text-align: center;">The chapters which are numerical are factual. The chapters which are alphabetical are fiction, though in some instances the fiction modestly drapes what is factual. I will post one chapter a week, alternating factual and fiction.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">At the end of my third grade in school, my brother
would soon be three years old. The project by now was being operated by the
Baltimore City Housing Authority. Rents were determined by your family income.
Since our family had two boys and a girl we qualified for a three-bedroom
house. We were put on a waiting list. We wondered where our next house would be
located. There were some areas of Armistead Gardens that seemed like slums. Or
maybe we would get a house in the new section.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The house we were given came as a happy surprise.
It was at the beginning of Armistead Way, where it junctured with Pulaski
Highway. There were single story duplex houses with gabled roofs in a column
which followed Pulaski Highway down a hill to the northern end of the project.
They were originally built to house the foremen at Glenn L. Martin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There was a large grassy yard on three sides of
the house. A street ran parallel to Pulaski Highway separating these houses
from the cinder block two story row houses. These houses had asbestos shingles
on the outside walls and drywall inside walls. There were three bedrooms, a
bathroom, a living room, a kitchen/dining area. There was even a pantry off the
kitchen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Across Armistead Way there was a wooded and grassy
area running alongside Pulaski Highway. Across Pulaski Highway from the wooded
area was a large Acme Markets supermarket. The sidewalk in front of the house
went to Pulaski Highway and there was a stop light so you could cross the
highway safely. After you crossed the highway, there was a row of shops – a
variety store, a drugstore, and a liquor store. Up the hill from these shops
was the Acme Market and beyond it a Sunoco gas station.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That fall all the elementary school children
living in Armistead Gardens were transferred from P.S. 231 to P.S. 83. It
became known pretty quickly throughout the project that the parents in the
neighborhood around Brehm’s Lane School had complained to the school board
about busing children from the project to their school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Another change was that there would no longer be
school buses. We had to ride the city transit bus. The transit buses ran all
through the project to Fox Mansion. That was the end of the line. P.S. 83 was
in East Baltimore. It was situated between Fayette Street and Orleans Street.
About a mile north of the school Fayette Street and Orleans Street merged and
became Pulaski Highway. Entering the project, the first bus stop was in front
of our house. Leaving, it stopped at the corner diagonally across Armistead Way
from our house. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I think the first year the school gave us tokens.
That changed and we had to pay 10 cents fare. There were many, many days that
if I wanted to go to school I had to walk because my parents didn’t have 40
cents that day for Beverly and me to go to school and come back on the bus. I have
always wanted to measure the distance from where we lived to P.S.83. I’m sure
it was over two miles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One aspect of the new school that I particularly
liked were the libraries. There was a school library from which I borrowed many
books. At home, unless I had some chore to do, I could be found lying on my bed
reading a book. Beverly made many friends in our new neighborhood, but I
didn’t. At school the school librarian noticed that when we were out on the
playground, I would be off by myself or getting beat up by some other boy. I
couldn’t and wouldn’t fight back. I tried to protect myself from the blows, but
my attempts were ineffectual.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One day when I was in the library, the librarian
said, “I need someone to help me by shelving the books that are returned and by
repairing the books. If you are interested, you could come to the library
during recess or at lunchtime if you are free.” I jumped at the chance to stay
away from the playground bullies. Shelving books was easy. Repairing books took
a great deal of learning, but the librarian taught me to do one stage at a
time. Until I learned that stage I couldn’t go any further and had to leave the
book for the librarian to complete. By the end of that school year, which was
my fourth grade, I could repair a book as well as the librarian and could
letter the titles on the spine as neatly as she could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">During the next school year, I began to go to the
Enoch Pratt Free Library branch on Fayette Street about two blocks north of the
school. I began to carry as many as six books home at a time and would read
them all in a week. Once I read through all the books by Roy Chapman Andrews, a
paleontologist. Then I read all the books by Ray Bradbury and Robert Heinlein.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In the fifth grade I started and edited a homeroom
newspaper called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Class Gossip</i>.
Members of the class would write out riddles, jokes, innocent bits of gossip,
news about upcoming events in their clubs or neighborhood. Some drew sketches
or cartoons. I would organize the pieces. One girl in the class was very
artistic. She would make a cover with a piece of colored paper and crayons.
Another girl, Gloria Mosca took the material home and her mother typed it onto
typing paper, pasted in the cartoons and pictures, and put holes in the pages
with a three-hole punch. The cover and pages were put together with brads. The
newspaper was kept on the teacher’s desk. Students who finished their work
ahead of the class could take it from the teacher’s desk and read it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The years
living in Armistead Gardens were mostly financially hard years. We would
receive boxes of clothes and sometimes food from the Church. Several times at
least Grandad Pritt would find out that someone he knew well was going to
Baltimore. He would send us a bushel of potatoes and some home-canned food. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Many, many times I went out with my wagon with a
Kotex cardboard box in it. The box was so big that only one side fit in the
wagon. The other side was propped on the other wagon side. That worked out
fine. There was still room in the wagon for any soda bottles I found. I went up
and down the streets in the old section looking in the garbage cans for
newspaper or cardboard. After a while, people would stack their newspapers and
put them beside the can. I was also looking for soda bottles that I could take
to the Acme Market for the deposit. When the big box was full, I went across
the highway and pulled the wagon almost a half mile down the highway to the
salvage yard. They would buy the box of paper from me. Including the box, I
would get 15 or 20 cents. I would wash out the bottles and take them with me to
the store. I think the deposit was 1 cent per bottle. For 25 cents I could get
a box of macaroni and cheese and a can of Manning’s beans. If I had 35 cents I
could also get a loaf of day old bread.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Other times my mother would send me to Ginny’s
house on the bus. She would send me with a note to Ginny asking if she could
spare some food. Ginny would always send me back with a bag containing some
potatoes, and a few cans of food.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We only had meat on Sundays and on payday (every
two weeks). One time a man who lived across the street came back from a hunting
trip in West Virginia. He had killed quite a few ground hogs and they were in
the trunk of his car. His wife absolutely refused to clean them. He asked Mom
if she would clean them and he would let her keep two of them. She worked
several hours cleaning the groundhogs. Then she went to work on the two she had
earned. She boiled them three times in water, maybe it was salt water, and
threw the water down the sink. Then she fried them in lard. The meat was very
dark and it looked like parts of a dog, but it was delicious and tasted like
fried chicken. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I have painful memories of Mom standing at the
door and taking verbal abuse from aggressive bill collectors. She had no money
to give them. She would answer them politely. When they left she came into the
house and cried. Other times she would have to ask the milk man to continue
delivering milk and bread another two weeks and she promised she would pay him
then. Afterward, she cried.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Too many years, I went all winter with holes in
the soles of my shoes. Every evening I would have to cut a piece of cardboard
to fit inside each of my shoes for the next day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I read a lot of books, not so I could be smart in
school, but so I could pretend I was living in other places and other times. I
don’t have many happy memories of my childhood and teen years living in
Armistead Gardens. Is that because I am morose by nature or did those years of
my life make me that way?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<br />Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-16744290209217326912018-02-01T20:52:00.002-08:002018-02-01T20:52:57.708-08:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER B<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18.6667px;">The chapters which are numerical are factual. The chapters which are alphabetical are fiction, though in some instances the fiction modestly drapes what is factual. I will post one chapter a week, alternating factual and fiction.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Marvin Thompson was probably ten years old. I was
nine years old and he wasn’t in my class at school. He must have been a year
older. He lived on Quantril Way. Across Armistead Way from our house on Newcomb
Way was the beginning of the woods. That is where the creek began. There was a
culvert that ran under Armistead Way and water came out of it into the creek.
Where did the water come from? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The creek and the woods held a fascination for a
group of us kids – mostly boys. I liked to pretend that I was an explorer and
was making my way through the jungle. Other times I imagined that I was out
West. Perhaps I thought I would come upon a settlement of Indians, or at least
discover the remains of one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">For Marvin the appeal of the creek and the woods
was his quest for “specimens.” That was his word for them. He found a skin that
a snake had shed. Inside a hole at the base of a tree he came upon a bunch of
baby mice – less than an inch long with their tails. He took them home in a
discarded tin can he found. After that he carried a couple tin cans from home.
From the creek he captured a baby turtle and a frog. Marvin’s mother was proud
of her budding scientist but sometimes she had to discard his specimens when
they began to smell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Marvin’s prize acquisitions were his collection of
bird eggs. When he found a nest, he would watch it until the mother bird flew
away. Then he would reach in the nest and take a few eggs. He borrowed a book
from the library to identify the birds. After that he could say, “That one is a
robin’s egg. This one is a wren’s egg.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When his teacher heard of his collection of bird
eggs she asked him to bring them to class and give a presentation to the class.
Marvin was very careful because he had to ride the bus to school. His gave him
a shoe box and a box of cotton. He rolled each egg in cotton before placing it
in the box. He made an excellent presentation and the teacher gave him extra
credit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Marvin had a good friend, Roland. Roland was
always eating and his nickname was Roly-Poly Roland. “I’m going down to the
woods and try to find a bird’s nest with eggs in it. Do you want to go with me,
Roland?” Roland agreed but went back in his house for a candy bar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Marvin did not see any nests along the path that
he had not already robbed. He plunged into the area where I often went
exploring. It was thick with brush and trees. In the midst of the seemingly impenetrable
brush, there was a sycamore tree. On one of its higher limbs he spied the nest
of a cardinal. He didn't have any cardinal eggs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Marvin climbed up the tree as soon as the mother
bird flew off on an errand. When he reached the nest, he saw that there were
four baby birds inside the nest. He decided to take the entire nest, baby birds
and all. Carrying the nest in one hand he awkwardly climbed down the tree using
only one hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">He was holding on to a limb with one hand, holding
the nest with the other hand and kicking around with his feet trying to find a
limb or something on the trunk where he could get a foothold. Just then Roland
started screaming. “The momma bird is flying back!... She is going crazy
looking for the nest… Watch out!” The mother bird saw the nest clutched in
Marvin’s hand. She started diving at him. He had no hand free to swat at her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The bird made one last desperate dive at the
burglar who had stolen her babies. She aimed at his eyes. In a panic Marvin let
go of the limb and fell to the ground. His head hit a rock or hard ground.
Blood was coming out his ears. “I made a mistake, Roland…Can I have a bite of
your candy bar?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When supper time came and he had not returned,
Marvin’s parents checked with Roland’s parents and found out that he also had
not returned. They started for the woods. Along the way others joined them.
They walked way out on the path and back with no success. Then the men went
into the dense brush. The searchers located the boys by the sound of Roland
sobbing. By then he was in shock. He kept repeating, “He asked for a piece of
my candy bar. I gave it to him, but he didn’t eat it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The bird’s nest had landed near the dead body of
Marvin. The baby birds were still cheeping, but he was silent forever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-3943544371448892202018-01-25T16:19:00.000-08:002018-01-25T16:19:06.968-08:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER TWO<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18.6667px;">The chapters which are numerical are factual. The chapters which are alphabetical are fiction, though in some instances the fiction modestly drapes what is factual. I will post one chapter a week, alternating factual and fiction.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Across the playground from our front door,
Armistead Way was a boundary of sorts. On the other side of it there was
undeveloped land going north from where Newcomb Way came into it. Going across
Armistead Way there was a steep path down into a wooded area with a stream
coming out of a culvert and going east. That stream was another boundary to the
project. After about a city block of woods there was an open field. The summers
we lived on Newcomb Way my father made a garden in that area. We had no plow so
he had to use a spade to turn over the soil in the area he planted. I helped in
the garden, planting seeds after he prepared the rows.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Following the stream a bit further, it became
wider and deeper at one place. There was more water sometimes than other times.
When it was deep enough the children would go swimming. I don’t remember, but
my sister insists that once she and I went “skinny-dipping” there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Further north along Armistead Way, it was dense
with bushes and trees. One time I found a butcher knife and went hacking a path
through the brush and low hanging tree limbs. Maybe I thought I was a jungle
explorer and the knife was a machete. Something went wrong. I hacked into the
top of my wrist. It was a very nasty cut. I don’t know what I did, other than
run home. I’m sure my mother was scared to death. I don’t know if she took me
to the doctor or bandaged it herself. I do know that it left a distinct “F”
shaped scar which was duly noted in my military records years later. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When we first moved into Armistead Gardens, the
Presbyterian church was the only Protestant church. It met in the community
building. The building was built of concrete block. The ground on which it was
built was on a steep slope. The front of the building faced Armistead Way and
was almost on street level, but the back, which faced Horner’s Lane, looked
like it was more than a story to the beginning of the main floor. The church
services and adult Sunday School classes were held on the main floor, a few
steps up from street level. The children’s Sunday School classes were held a
million steps down in the “basement.” The rooms in the basement were gloomy. It
seemed like a dungeon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I remember a Hallowe’en Party in the basement of
the Community Center. I think the Presbyterian Church organized it, but it was
for any of the children in the project. The organizers decorated the room with
flickering red lights, fake cobwebs, cardboard skeletons, witches hanging with
black thread from the ceiling so it looked like they were flying on brooms.
There was punch made of red Kool-Aid, large grapes made to look like eyeballs.
After we ate the obligatory cup cakes, washed down with Kool-Aid, there was a
costume contest and bobbing for apples.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The Catholic Church met in Fox Mansion, a real
mansion with a rich history dating from before the War of 1812. After the new
section was built it became the community center for that area. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The new section had been built long before we
moved to Armistead Gardens. The houses were much more attractive both inside
and out. Some of the houses were brick, while many were row houses built of
cinder block. They all had pitched roofs. Their houses faced streets with
sidewalks rather than narrow alleys. They had hardwood floors and drywall
walls. They were heated by coal furnaces instead of fuel oil which had to be
carried into the house every day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The summer after we moved onto Newcomb Way we had
visitors. My Grandad and Grandmom Pritt came from Elkins in a new Ford. My
Uncle Donald and his new wife Delania came with them. Beverly and I had been
living with Grandad and Grandmom when Donald returned from the War. We had
learned to love Uncle Don, but Dad had not seen Don since he was drafted into
the Army.. Delania lived out in the country and the road to her parents’ farm
was paved with large stones. Tires at that time were not good quality and
Donald had a number of “blow outs.” I remember Grandad saying, “If you don’t
marry that girl soon, you are going to go broke buying tires for the car.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">They had loaded the car with home canned food and
some dishes and other treasures Mom had left with them. Strapped to the back of
the car was a bicycle they brought for me! They were not selling bicycles in
the stores at that time. This was an old pre-war bicycle. It was made of steel
so it was heavy. Don had sanded it and painted it royal blue (The paint used by
Western Maryland Railway on its passenger coaches). He had shined up the chrome
spokes and wheels. It looked brand new. That bicycle opened a whole new world
for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I think they were only with us two days. They must
have stayed in a motel for several nights. I guess they also went to Washington
to visit Myrtle (one of my father’s sisters} and Gene before their long trip
back to West Virginia. The second day they took us on a picnic to Bay Shore
Park. The trip out to the park was across a long bridge. What I remember was
hunting for shade. There was plenty of beach but no trees. With red hair I sun
burned easily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">After they left I rode that bicycle on every
street in Armistead Gardens. I had to learn how to fix a flat tire, put the
chain back when it came off, and other mechanical skills. The bicycle took me
to every place in the Gardens and I made a lot of new friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There was a Maintenance Office for the project.
There were men who would repair plumbing, the furnace, or other problems in the
house. They also loaned tools for the lawn and gardens. They gave out grass
seed. They would also give paint for doors and screen doors. Automobiles were
scarce, but some people in the project were finding old pre-war cars and fixing
them up. Some of these old clunkers sported new paint jobs using screen door
paint from the Maintenance Office applied to the cars with rags.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Most of the people in the old section lived on the
edge of poverty. I remember one day when there was a knock on the door. When my
mother opened the door there was a little boy dressed only in his underwear.
“Lady could you gimme a piece of bread?” She took a slice from the loaf. “Is
this all right?” “Well, do you have some oleo or jelly you could put on it?”
All the time he was shivering. As soon as she handed him the sandwich, he
devoured it and ran off, barefoot, up the street.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">From Christmas time until the end of February many
of the men were laid off and had no income. Either the coal miners were on
strike, the steelworkers were on strike, the longshoremen were on strike –
always some reason to lay off the workers in the dead of winter. That was when
the weather was cold. The fuel oil tanks were soon empty and unless some money
could be borrowed at the loan company or from relatives, concrete block houses
with concrete floors were miserably cold and damp. My parents’ first stop for
Christmas shopping was at the two loan companies where they had accounts to see
how much they could borrow and add to their account.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">During this time, we would see oil trucks that did
not usually deliver oil in Armistead Gardens. When I was older I learned that
they were delivering oil to Freemasons who were out of work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">My sister and I enrolled in P.S. 231, Brehm’s Lane
Elementary School. A school bus came for us and carried us to a brick school
building in a very nice neighborhood. In later years everyone I knew who lived
in that neighborhood were upper middle class – the manager of an upscale
leather goods store, an executive of American Stores grocery chain, a banker, a
manager in an industrial plant, a lawyer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We attended that school the rest of the school
year and all of the following school year. I have my report cards from those
years. They show an unusual number of absences. I am surprised that I passed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-25620000814845236882018-01-18T22:47:00.000-08:002018-01-18T22:47:07.713-08:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER A<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 18.6667px;">The chapters which are numerical are factual. The chapters which are alphabetical are fiction, though in some instances the fiction modestly drapes what is factual. I will post one chapter a week, alternating factual and fiction.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">As the Second World War was drawing to a close,
many Germans could see that defeat was inevitable. Those who held positions of
authority in the government or the National Socialist Party knew that if/when
the Axis powers were defeated, they and their families would both be vulnerable
to arrest by the ruling power installed by the conquering armies and to revenge
by disgruntled fellow Germans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Some of them sent their families out of Germany to
Switzerland or to Turkey or Morocco. From there they made their way to Uruguay
and Argentina. Some of the fathers were subsequently killed in the waning
months or weeks of the War. Others used that time to collect as much money,
gold, jewels, or other portable booty and then fled themselves. Whether any high
ranking Nazis evaded arrest and made their way to these two South American
countries has been material for many articles, documentaries, and stories. The
undisputable fact is that following the War there were large colonies of
Germans and Ukrainians in Argentina and Uruguay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In Baltimore there were many first, second, and
third generation German-Americans. Before the War started, the German Bundt
brought together thousands of Germans who supported Hitler. Their building in
downtown Baltimore was a classical Greek structure whose auditorium held at
least 2000. Many dropped their support when they found out what Hitler was
doing to the Jews or when their own sons were being killed in the War. The
Bundt was outlawed after our country entered the War. There were still a
sizeable number who silently maintained their allegiance to Nazi Germany.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Several of these Nazi sympathizers secured jobs in
the Rental Office and the Maintenance Office in Armistead Gardens. They worked
hard and gradually worked themselves into supervisory positions. Mr. Wieneger
became the Manager of the Rental Office. Mr. Schwartz became the Supervisor in
the Maintenance Office. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">During the War good workers were being bled away
by the draft. Every time there was a job opening Mr. Wieneger and Mr. Schwartz
hired only men or women who were supporters of their cause. By the time the War
ended, all of the workers belonged to their Cause.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">They recognized that the column of duplex houses
which ran along Pulaski Highway might be useful to them some day because a road
running parallel to Pulaski Highway was an innocent and unobtrusive passive
barrier to the other residents of the project. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When the project was turned over to the Baltimore
City Housing Authority there were some anxious weeks and months worrying about
whether the Authority might send in some of their own people. As time went by
their worries were laid to rest, because Armistead Gardens was run more
efficiently than any of their other projects.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mr. Schwartz had a short-wave radio in his office.
There was a sophisticated antenna array on the roof of the garage where the
trucks and equipment of the Maintenance Department were stored. In the evening
after the offices were closed, Mr. Schwartz was occupied with his amateur
radio. The radio hams he was contacting were in Argentina and Uruguay. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Now that wealthy ex-pat Germans had reached the
relative safety of South America, their next goal was to reach the United
States and settle there under a new identity. There were many less wealthy
German immigrants who would have to adjust and content themselves living in a
Latin society that was less developed, less modern, less cultured than Germany
had been before the War.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The leaders of the Noble Cause had decided to
establish Kamp Armistead in that row of duplexes along Pulaski Highway. The
duplex facing Armistead Way was unsuitable for their use because of the heavy
vehicle and pedestrian traffic- too many people with too many eyes and too many
brains and too many mouths.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">As for the other duplexes, if a family moved out,
the Cause sent one of their followers, who had an apartment or house elsewhere
in Baltimore, to occupy that unit until it was needed by the Cause. Other
families were gradually moved to units in the new section with the excuse that
the State wanted to widen Pulaski Highway. In six months they had control of
all the duplexes except the one facing Armistead Way. Kamp Armistead was ready
to open. There were twenty three-bedroom units.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mr. Schwartz kept in communication with the Noble
Cause each evening. When encryption was necessary, they used some book with 365
pages or more. This year it was <i>Moby
Dick.</i> The page for that day was ruled off in rows and columns. The first 26
lines stood for letters, the 27<sup>th</sup> line was space and the 28<sup>th</sup>
line was “period.” In this manner Mr. Schwartz communicated to Argentinian and
Uruguayan collaborators that Kamp Armistead was ready to receive twenty
families.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">These families could not fly to Baltimore or
travel by commercial ships because they did not have valid passports and visas.
Travel was on yachts. The amount of baggage they could take with them was
limited. The captains of the yachts were cautious concerning the weather. It
was a long trip to travel by yacht in the Atlantic Ocean. They had to stop
often to refuel. Most of the passengers were seasick at least part of the time.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When the yacht reached the Chesapeake Bay, it
steered for Back Creek. There was a yacht club there with some members who were
loyal to the Cause. One of them would take one family and its baggage to Kamp
Armistead at night. The next night he would take another family. In six months’
time, only ten families had been moved into Kamp Armistead. Then winter halted
any further travel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There were some families who tried other ways to
get into the United States: through Mexico and into Texas or Arizona or through
Cuba flying to Canada and from there into Detroit or New York. None of them
made it without being arrested. The location of Kamp Armistead was kept secret,
even the fact it was in Baltimore. It was thought that they might be followed
and the existence and location of Kamp Armistead would be discovered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When a family arrived, the person who had been
house-sitting would stay with the family a week, helping them get settled. They
all had learned basic English beforehand. He showed them the Acme Market and
went with them on their first trip. They were encouraged to walk up the
sidewalk along Pulaski Highway so as not to be noticed by the residents of
Armistead Gardens.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mr. Schwartz would buy a car for them (with their
money). A Cause volunteer would coach them in learning the highway laws. Most
could drive but they needed a few practice drives before taking their test. A
driver’s license was an important identity document. A volunteer also took them
on the city bus. They would go with them to the center of Baltimore and go
through the department stores with them. They showed them the German
neighborhoods.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The whole elaborate set-up was almost shattered.
One of the German undocumented immigrant
families in Kamp Armistead, the Krachts, had a teen age son. He was in Fox’s
5&10 when Mr. & Mrs. Fox were heatedly arguing about something. Mr. Fox
used some rough language in Yiddish. The boy may have thought Mrs. Fox was
Aryan because of her blonde hair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That night the boy returned with a can of black
spray paint. He sprayed a giant swastika on one window and KIKE in giant
letters. He probably would have put more, but a young man driving by saw him and
yelled. He stopped his car and gave pursuit but the offender got away. Mr.
Schwartz had a good idea who had done it. The family was put into a station
wagon, driven up into the mountains and left to fend for themselves and die.
Too much was at stake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The enforcers for the Cause did not reckon on
“mountain people.” A man in an old pickup truck came upon the family huddling
in a shelter of snow and fir branches by the side of the road. He picked them
up, took them home and his wife fixed them a hot meal of cornbread and beans.
She gave them old ragged blankets with which to wrap themselves. The foreign
people did not know where they had been living. Their teenage son was sick with
a bad fever. The mountain folk had no extra beds and no telephone but they made
the people as comfortable as they could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The next day the mountain man drove into town and
told the storekeeper who called the sheriff for him. The sheriff took the three
foreigners to the hospital. Since they could give no address and had no
identity papers the sheriff called the FBI.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The wheels of justice grind slow but exceedingly
fine. The family was kept as long as questioning them was yielding useable
information. Just the names “Fox’s 5&10”, “Kamp Armistead” and “Mr.
Schwartz” helped to pin down the location of this camp for undocumented aliens.
When the FBI was finished with them, the family was sent to their last legal
residence, which was now in East Germany. The entire staff at Armistead Gardens
was sent to various other projects and was replaced by other Housing Authority
employees. Mr. Schwartz was fired and was indicted on several Federal charges.
The remaining residents of Kamp Armistead were deported to Germany.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mr. Schwartz was able to warn two important
residents before the authorities arrived. Mr. Karl Bruning and Mr. Eisen
Schultz had been in high administrative posts at the Dachau death camp. If they
were arrested and deported they would face prosecution at the Nurenberg War
Crimes trials. Both men took off on foot for Horners Lane. They entered the
National Bohemian Cemetery. One of the graves had a concrete covering on the
grave. The concrete had cracked. It was only an inch thick. Its purpose was to
disguise a metal door the size of the “grave.” They lifted the door. Its hinges
were rusted and protested with a loud squeak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">This bunker had been put in place about five years
before America became involved in World War II. The Bundt had built it as a
refuge for spies who might be sent from Germany. There were a number of attempts
during the War to infiltrate spies into the U.S.A. but they were all
unsuccessful and the bunker had been unused for its original purpose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When it was built, the bunker contained a
shortwave radio which had a telescoping antenna which used the metal cover to
reflect its signal while transmitting. It had half a dozen beds with wool
blankets. Storeable food and water in sealed cans, and a cache of American
money were all part of the bunker’s contents. There was a latrine connected to
a septic tank.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When Bruning and Schultz entered the underground
retreat, they discovered that it had been plundered. The radio was gone. The
mattresses and blankets were gone, all the food and all the money had been
taken. Someone who had been involved in building and stocking the hideout, and
knew how to get into it, had returned at a later time and liberated the
contents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">They were in a real jam. They would have to remain
in the bunker at least until tomorrow. Maybe the authorities would be gone by
then. They could go back to their now vacated homes and scavenge whatever food
or clothes remained in them. If their cars were still there, they could get
away in them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">They spent the night lying on metal cots with no
mattresses, shivering in the cold. The next morning, they broke open a couple
cans of water. It tasted awful. They used the latrine and then lifted the hatch
to exit. As they did, they found themselves facing two Federal marshalls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“We knew about this hideout. When we saw the
broken pieces of concrete scattered on the ground we knew for sure you were
inside. We have been waiting here for you. There are some people in Nurenberg
who want to hold you accountable for your roles in killing hundreds of
thousands of men, women, and children.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-71186132611378448332018-01-12T20:21:00.000-08:002018-01-12T20:21:45.236-08:00ARMISTEAD GARDENS - CHAPTER ONE<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><i>The chapters which are numerical are factual. The chapters which are alphabetical are fiction, though in some instances the fiction modestly drapes what is factual. I will post one chapter a week, alernating factual and fiction.</i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I was born in Elkins, West Virginia. Although we
lived in several different houses when I was an infant and toddler, the two
houses I remember were across the street from my paternal grandparents. The
first one was a two-bedroom house my father built from plans he bought from <i>House and Gardens</i> magazine. My sister is
one year younger than I am. When I was six years old, my brother was born. My
parents bought a larger house next door, directly across the street from my
grandparents. We were living there when I started school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">My father worked as a machinist on the Western
Maryland Railway in Elkins. When World War 2 ended, he accepted a job on the
Atlantic Coast Line Railway in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. My parents sold the
car, a 1937 Oldsmobile, and all the furniture, pots and pans, dishes, and
linens. My mother and baby brother went to Baltimore to live with her sister.
My sister and I went across the street to live with our grandparents. I was
beginning the second grade.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">My father lived in a boarding house while he was
working in North Carolina. However, he couldn’t find a house for us. Just
before Christmas, he quit his job in North Carolina and went to Baltimore to
look for a job. He worked as a machinist in several places including the
Bethlehem Steel shipyard, Glenn L. Martin, and the Pennsylvania Railroad.
Eventually, he went to work at the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad’s Mt. Clare
Shops.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Soon after Christmas 1945, my parents sent for my
sister and me to join them in Baltimore. My sister had pneumonia and couldn’t
travel. I went to Baltimore on the train by myself. I’m sure that now a seven-year
old child could not travel without an adult accompanying him. But, I’m sure the
conductor had strict orders to watch out for me. My Grandad Pritt was the track
foreman who was in charge of all the tracks in the yard in Elkins, the terminus
of the Western Maryland Railway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I left in the morning while it was still dark.
When the train went through Thomas, West Virginia, I could see the coke ovens
on the hill above. I didn’t know about coke ovens. They looked like dragons
with fiery eyes and flames shooting out their nostrils. I was really scared and
tried not to cry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The train arrived in Baltimore late that evening.
I had eaten the sandwich Grandmom Pritt had packed for my lunch. It was a manly
meal made with thick slices of homemade bread. But by the time I arrived in
Baltimore I was really hungry. Dad met me at the railway station and took me to
the apartment where my Aunt Ginny, Uncle Darld, their two daughters, Darlene
and Margaret Lee and now Dad and Mom and my brother Marshall Lee were all
living in a two bedroom apartment on the second and third floor in a housing
project. In hindsight, I cannot imagine how we all found places to sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Aunt Ginny had fixed a plate of food for me and
poured a glass of milk. I had barely begun to eat when we heard the loud
screech of brakes and people screaming. A crowd of people came pouring out of
the apartments and ran to the street intersection. A newspaper boy had gone
through a trackless trolley hawking the evening news. He exited the bus and ran
around to cross the street at the intersection. The driver pulled away from the
curb, did not see the lad running across the street in front of him, and hit
the boy. An ambulance came, but it was too late for the newsboy; he was dead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Two things I remember clearly from the time I was
at Ginny and Darld’s home. There was a playground between the two long rows of
apartment buildings. I went out and was swinging on one of the swings. A boy
came up to me and told me to get off the swing because he wanted to swing. When
I continued to swing, he pulled me off the swing and proceeded to beat the
living daylights out of me. I never could or would fight. I went back to the
apartment with a bloody nose and bruises. Darlene (who was my age) said, “Show
me who it was.” Out of the second story window I pointed out my attacker. She
marched down the steps, crossed the playground to the swings, and yanked the
boy off the swing. She beat him up so bad that he ran back to the apartment where
he lived.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The second thing I remember is that Aunt Ginny
made butter. The War was over but a lot of commodities, including butter, were
still not in the stores because price controls were still in effect. Ginny got
milk from Golden Guernsey Dairy. Their bottles had a bulbous shape at the top.
There was a plastic stopper you put in the neck of the bottle to pour out most
of the cream. Ginny poured the cream off every bottle into a pint jar. When the
jar was nearly full she put the lid on the jar and shook it vigorously. When
she was tired, she enlisted the help of her daughters and even me. After much
vigorous shaking there were some clumps of butter and buttermilk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">During World War 2 the Federal government built
and operated hundreds of housing projects in cities where there were defense
plants. They had to house the workers who came from the small towns and rural
areas to work in the plants that were producing military equipment and supplies
needed for the war effort. So many people moved from West Virginia to Dayton,
Ohio to work in the rubber plants that people jokingly said the largest city in
West Virginia was Dayton, Ohio. Virginia Lee and Darld Isner lived in the
Perkins Project which was near Baltimore’s harbor and the shipyard. Since the
War was over, the Federal government was in the process of turning the projects
over to municipal authorities to operate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">My parents were able to get a two bedroom row
house in Armistead Gardens, another housing project. We moved there in the
beginning of February 1946. I don’t know what furniture there was in the
beginning. I know my brother, who was about 18 months old, slept in a wagon,
his Christmas present. I don’t know if my sister joined us while we were at
Darld and Ginny’s or after we moved to Armistead Gardens. My father’s sister
Myrtle and her husband Gene, who lived outside Washington, DC, brought her from
Elkins in their car. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Our house was at the end of a row of houses, 1127
Newcomb Way. There were two bedrooms and bathroom upstairs. The living room,
kitchen/dining area, and fuel oil hot air furnace were on the first floor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Armistead Gardens was just inside the northern
city limits of Baltimore. Pulaski Highway was on its eastern side. The houses
in Armistead Gardens were originally built to house workers at the Glenn L.
Martin plant. It was built in two stages. We lived in the “old section.” The houses were built as row houses – five or
six houses joined together. These units were on both sides of a narrow alley
with no sidewalks. There were several streets in that section suitable for
vehicular traffic and these had sidewalks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In the old section the houses were built of cinder
block and had concrete floors and flat roofs. The cinder block of the outside
wall was also the inside wall. The cinder blocks of the outside walls were 12
inches thick. The walls between each house were 8 inches thick. The cook stoves
were gas. Gas, water, and electricity were included in the rent However, the
heat was from fuel oil. Trucks came around to fill up 55 gallon oil drums which
lay horizontally on concrete stands. There was a spigot to fill the can you
carried into the house and poured into the hot air furnace. You had to pay the
oil truck in cash for the oil. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The thin walls between the houses meant you could
hear the neighbors arguing. We lived in a house at the end of a row, so we only
heard one set of neighbors. Lying in bed some nights I would hear the man and
woman next door fighting. Sometimes I could hear him hit her. More than once I
heard her screaming, then tumbling down the steps. They had three daughters –
twins my sister’s age and an older girl my age. I wonder what it must have been
like for the girls living in the midst of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">This same couple would sometimes have a dozen or
more children from nearby houses come to their home and sit on the floor in the
living room. They would turn out all the lights and tell ghost stories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The kitchen/dining area, the furnace, and the
bathroom all faced the alley which was Newcomb Way. The front door from the
living room opened onto a long playground. Directly in front of our house was a
“monkey bars.” It was a squarish gridwork of pipes that children could climb
on, hang upside, and all kinds of activities. Further down were swings and
see-saws. In the middle was a large grassy area where ball games were played.
At the far end there was a large area of smooth concrete where children could
roller skate, play hop-scotch, etc. In the center was what resembled a giant
metal mushroom. On the rounded top was a large shower head. In the summer, when
it was blistering hot, they turned on the sprinkler, the children put on
bathing suits and ran through the water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Between our house and the first house of the next
row of houses was a large area of what should have been grass but was hard
packed dirt. It was there that we boys played marbles. Each boy had a bag of
marbles and as the play went on a bag became filled or emptied. Each boy had a
large marble which he used as a ‘shooter.” That is also where we played
“mumbley-peg” with our pen knives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-53133698069024915652017-10-09T17:18:00.000-07:002017-10-09T17:18:20.470-07:00ICE DREAMS - CHAPTER H (the last chapter)<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">I have posted one chapter per week of my latest book, ICE DREAMS. Please note that the numerical chapters are autobiographical. The alphabetical chapters are pure fiction. If you would like the complete book in .pdf format, send your request to mtnpride@gmail.com and I will send it to you as an email attachment.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> After
Lorraine left, I had two big projects for the month of August. The salmon would
be running that month. The men had been busy building a big fishing wheel,
going by pictures and drawings in books which the Department of Interior sent
to me. They had also built some salmon smokers. I warned them that both the
fishing wheel, when it was spitting fish into a barrel, and the salmon smokers,
when there were fish on them would attract bears. Therefore, we needed men on
guard at the fishing wheel during the times when it was catching fish and at
the smokers anytime there were fish on them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Also
during August, I needed to be planning school classes for the coming year. As
Mrs. Wallace observed, I am just “winging” it, but I think that is harder than
if I had a set curriculum to follow. I probably will have to introduce
mathematics and science for the older children.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
was puzzled about Tatyana. Will she be willing to help again this school year?
One day as I was walking out toward the woodline, she fell in step with me. In
my mind, her thoughts came as clearly as if she were speaking to me in audible
sounds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“You
may be wondering why I acted the way that I did while your wife was here. When
we first met, the Starshij told you that I am a virgin – I do not have a
husband. I brought you into the cave because I thought that you could be my
husband. It was not until you were talking to Starshij that I found out that
you are married.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I
was crushed, because I like you so much. It is only because our souls are so
close, that our minds can converse like this. I tried to deceive myself into
thinking that you really weren’t married, that you were shy or reticent about
giving your heart. I thought that eventually you would allow yourself to feel
about me the way that I feel about you. When I saw Lorraine, I perceived what a
wonderful person she is. When I saw you with her, my self-deception collapsed. Yes,
I’ll help you in school this year. But I had to tell you how I feel.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
continued walking. I didn’t know what to say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
day after Labor Day (I was the only one who knew or had ever heard of Labor
Day), we started school. I divided the class into those who were almost 12 or
older. I started them with arithmetic with the intention of going on to algebra
after Christmas. While I was teaching them arithmetic, Tatyana worked with the
younger children helping them review the alphabet, the colors, and numbers and
then having them color. I asked Mrs. Wallace to buy some coloring books and
crayons in Bethel and send them out to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
had also rearranged the classroom. The younger children were behind the older
children and were facing the rear of the trailer. The older children were
facing the front so that I could use the whiteboard. I also had a table on
which I could put similar objects to illustrate simple addition and subtraction
problems. I also had a map of the world, a map of the United States, and a map
of Alaska.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Since
coming to the Shemyite community, I had been more serious about doing the
University of Kentucky correspondence course on classical Greek. I had finished
the first course and received a grade of A- and three semester hours credit. I
was now working on the second course. I have almost completed it and I will be
sending for the final exam in a couple weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
gardens produced an abundance of produce. The women were finding ways to
preserve it. They were using the roofs of the trailers to sun dry many things.
They dug root cellars in which to keep potatoes, beets, carrots, turnips, and
parsnips. I remembered reading about the Korean women making kimchi by cutting
up cabbage, hot peppers, and fish and burying it in jars in the ground. All
through the winter they dug up one jar at a time. Some of the women decided to
try that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
women already knew how to make bagels. Every trailer kitchen had two or three
strings up near the ceiling with dozens of bagels hanging there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">For
their part, the men were already going through the woods looking for dead trees
which they would saw out in the woods, then drag the pieces back to their
trailers. There they split the sections of logs into useable sized pieces. The
women’s cook stoves were wood-burning. When it became really cold the pot belly
stoves in the center of the trailers were lighted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
couldn’t help thinking that if I had turned down this assignment and stayed at
Fort Meade, I would be in college now. Had I made a mistake? Am I throwing away
a year of my life? I cannot deny that the Shemyites need me. Before I came,
they were dependent on whatever the Department of Interior would dole out to
them. They knew that it wouldn’t go on for long. What I am doing is helping
them to become self-sufficient. That will preserve their dignity and
self-respect. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
children are being prepared to go to school or at least to earn a G.E.D.
diploma. The adults can now defend their community from wild animals, buy food
and other necessities with earned money, harvest enough fish and garden
vegetables, and gather enough wood for fuel to last through the coming winter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Also,
the storekeeper had sold every one of their crafts and was begging for more. He
made it clear that it is only during the summer that he can sell crafts to
people who are just passing through. That is perfect because it is during the
winter that the Shemyite people work on crafts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I’m
sure that I can get the Department of Interior to set some program in place wherein they
will take the crafts to shops in Anchorage. Now that the people have been shown
that they can sell their crafts here just as they did when they were living in
the cave and now that they have received money for their crafts, I believe they
will produce many more crafts this winter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
am also going to suggest that a teacher be sent to take my place when I leave
next fall and that Tatyana be sent to the University of Alaska to work with a
linguist who can document the Shemyite patois. At the same time, she can learn
English, (and maybe meet a young man whom she can marry.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Life
is about giving others what you have already been given. God leaves us on this
earth after we become His children through the Gospel of Christ, in order that
we can tell others about Him, and also in order that we may continue to serve
others as Christ would have done. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-23795679890150167462017-10-02T16:31:00.002-07:002017-10-02T16:31:46.840-07:00ICE DREAMS - CHAPTER G<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-indent: 0in;">
<i style="font-size: 13.2px;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">I will be posting one chapter per week of my latest book, ICE DREAMS. Please note that the numerical chapters are autobiographical. The alphabetical chapters are pure fiction.</span></i></div>
<div>
<i style="font-size: 13.2px;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">On
Tuesday, March 12, 1961 two soldiers drove into the community in a M561, a large
six-wheeled vehicle called a “Gamma Goat.” I couldn’t believe that they could
drive up into our community. There was not even a dirt road from Tuluksak. Despite
its size the Gamma Goat can go over terrain that would not be passable for a
Jeep. In the vehicle there were twelve rifles and that many cases of
ammunition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Sergeant,
you sign for these. From now on you’ll be responsible for them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Thank
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“We’re
cold and hungry. Can you give us some grub? You wouldn’t make us eat these cold
C-Rations would you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Tell
you what. I’ll make you some hot chili with soda crackers, some hot chocolate
and some applesauce in exchange for your C-Rations.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“You’ve
got a deal, good buddy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">They
carried a whole case of C-Rations</span> <span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">into the trailer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">By
then a half dozen men had gathered around to gawk at this large six-wheeled
vehicle which had managed to drive up into the community. I showed them the
rifles and ammunition. Boris looked at the soldiers and pointing to his stomach
he rubbed it and then pointed to them questioningly. I didn’t have to explain
the meaning of his gestures. They enthusiastically accepted his invitation. He
gestured for all three of us to follow him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
Boris’ trailer he barked a few commands to his wife. She scurried into the
kitchen and began preparing a hot meal whose tantalizing odor was driving us
crazy. While we were waiting, Boris served us hot sweetened chai in glasses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Then
his wife began putting the food on the table. When we were seated, Boris
clasped his hands in prayer and motioned to me. I prayed for the Lord Jesus to
bless the food and to bless the home of this generous couple. When I finished
the two soldiers joined us in an enthusiastic Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
next day, I had the children busy drawing pictures of brown bears and moose –
copying from pictures I found in hunting magazines. When the men came, I took a
rifle, some ammunition, the pictures and some thumb tacks. We walked to the
back edge of the clearing. I motioned for them to stay there. I walked out
about 100 paces and tacked a picture about chest high on a tree. I walked
another 50 paces and put up another picture on a tree. Going another 50 paces I
did the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Going
back to the men, I demonstrated loading the rifle, cocking it, taking the
safety off, and firing it. I managed to hit some place on each of the targets,
but I didn’t hit any of the animals pictured on them. I then had each man do
the same. It was very difficult teaching them, especially gun safety, without
words or language. The men, however, were very enthusiastic. Not all of them
hit a target, but this was just their first time. I decided to have the men
devote their class time to target practice every day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">By
the end of March, the men were hitting the animals pictured on the targets.
They had also learned to clean the weapons. I issued a rifle to each one who
had been in the class. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Spring
was coming. I drew up a schedule of these men, two per night, to stand guard
over our community. One man would be on duty 4pm to midnight; the other man
midnight to 8 am. They were to watch for bears and moose and to shoot the
animal before it could get into the clearing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">A
month went by. The men were grumbling about the watch duty. Then on the first
night in May Boris spotted a brown bear about 75 yards from the trailers. He
aimed for the chest, but shot the bear in the head. It roared and fell over
dead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That
morning I rode down to the general store and asked if someone would show us how
to skin the bear. A Native American man, grizzled in appearance, rode back to
the community with me. He skinned and gutted the bear, then told me a few
things about butchering it. He asked if he could have the heart and paws from
the bear. The men were glad to give him those. He also told me that we must
bury the guts in a deep hole and drain the bear’s blood into the hole, then
cover the hole in dirt. That might keep wolves from catching the scent of the
bear and coming to look for it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
women butchered the bear and every family was given a share of it. Bear meat
was strange to them and each of the women cooked it in different ways. Some
roasted it, some fried it, others made stew of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
men were more alert now that they knew the possibility of a large and dangerous
intruder was real. The possibility of another bonanza of fresh meat was also an
incentive. In the next month the men killed a caribou, another bear, and then a
moose. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
had no plows and the clearing behind the trailers had many stumps. All the men
used spades to dig up garden patches for their own family. At the general store
they were able to buy seed potatoes and packets of seeds. They planted the
seeds and every day members of the families would carry water in buckets for
the garden. They had already been carrying water for use in the home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
children were making very good progress in basic English. I could sometimes
tell one of the children something that I wanted to say to one of the adults
and they could interpret it for me. The school district sent a woman to our
school to see how much progress they had made, what teaching materials I was
using, what my qualifications were as a teacher.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mrs.
Wallace came on a “dirt bike” motorcycle. She had the twelve children come to
her one at a time. She asked them the numbers, the alphabet, the colors. Then
she asked them questions using simple English. I was afraid at first and then
embarrassed at how well they did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Sergeant,
your methods are unorthodox, probably making it up as you go along. You have no
ESL training, probably haven’t even read a book on the subject. Yet somehow,
you are doing a great job. If there were a school within reasonable distance,
these children could all start in school next fall. Keep it up. You are doing a
great job. I’ll see if I can gather up some books for the children and some
teaching aids for you and ship them out to you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
thanked her and one of the mothers tugged at her arm, took her to her trailer,
and fixed Mrs. Wallace a wonderful lunch with hot sweetened chai. When she was
leaving, the mother hugged her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">All
winter the men and women had been working in the crafts they had used in the
cave. They had quite a collection of dolls, throw rugs, wood carvings
(including Orthodox crosses), scarves, gloves, and other items. Some of the men
put them all in bundles, and carried them on their backs. I went with them to
talk to the storekeeper. I had made two copies of an inventory of all the
goods. Beside each item was the name of the person who had made the craft. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
we reached the store, I explained to Mr. Harriman that they had some crafts
that they would like to leave with him on consignment. Whatever he did not sell
in three months we would take back and send it elsewhere to be sold. I asked
him to check the inventory against the crafts they had brought with them and to
sign one copy of it if it was correct. I would leave the other copy with him.
He could sell the crafts for what he judged to be a fair price and then write
the price beside the item on the inventory. In three months he would return the
unsold crafts, total the amount of sales, keep 20% for himself and pay us 80%.
He agreed those terms were fair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
gardens were coming up. As with all first gardens they were flourishing and
there was a minimum of weeds. However, some animals were discovering the
gardens and foraging there. We had to drop everything and build fences to keep
the wild animals out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
sent for some books about the way native Alaskans fish for salmon. They would
be running in August and September. We only had a couple months to learn to
build the wheels and nets they use to catch the salmon. We also had to learn to
smoke and preserve the salmon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">It
was summer now. The days were long. The sun was warm. The dirt path out to
Tuluksak was firm enough for a four-wheel drive vehicle to traverse. I asked
Lorraine if she would like to come here for a visit. I would like to see Paul,
who was now one year old, but bringing him might be too much for her to manage
in these primitive conditions. She agreed with enthusiasm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Next,
I had to make arrangement through the Department of Interior office in
Anchorage. They would have to arrange to fly her from Anchorage to Bethel and
then for a Ranger to drive her from Bethel to the Shemyite community. I knew
that I was asking a lot, but I figured that they owed me a lot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
sent a letter to them with a copy to the Ranger at Bethel. The Ranger called
Anchorage, read the letter to them. They agreed without hesitation. The Ranger
answered me back by mail three days after I sent the letters. I promptly sent
Lorraine a letter telling her that she had permission to come and I gave her
the phone numbers of the office in Anchorage and the Ranger in Bethel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorraine
arrived the evening of the Fourth of July. Even though it was evening, it was
still light as if it were afternoon. The people of the community all gathered
around her and took turns hugging her. Tatyana was on the edge of the group and
did not come up to greet her. She had a strange look in her eyes. While
everyone was still greeting Lorraine, Tatyana walked away and went to her
parents’ trailer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorraine
was very tired from her trip. I’m sure that she would have liked to take a
shower. All I could offer was a washbasin into which I poured hot water from
the tea kettle on the stove. I told her to save the water with which she washed
so we could use it to flush the toilet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
both had to sleep in my single bed. We didn’t sleep a whole lot. The next
morning, I got up first and made coffee. I fixed her a fried egg and warmed the
bread on top of the egg after I had turned it over. We went out and I showed
her around the compound. There were already women and children working out in
the gardens. Before long Lorraine was working alongside them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">She
saw that some of the beans were pole beans but they were running along the
ground. She went looking for some discarded tree branches and pushed them into
the ground. “Go get me a hammer and some rags.” She hammered the poles in the
ground and then picked the bean runners off the ground and tied them to the
poles with strips from the rags. The women watched her and began doing the
same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
families in the community paired up in hosting us each evening for supper. It
was heartwarming to me to see the genuine affection the women displayed to her.
She oohed and aahed over the food, played with the children, admired the
carvings or tapestries on the walls. They may have expected her to treat them
with the lack of respect and dignity that other city people had displayed
toward them. She admired their crafts, their homes, their children, and their
food. They could not have loved her any more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
we went to the home of Tatyana’s uncle, Tatyana’s parents and the other
children were there. They said Tatyana was not feeling well. There was a stiffness
in Tatyana’s mother’s manner to us. The uncle’s wife noticed it and frowned.
When the meal was over, she excused herself and left the trailer. Tatyana’s
father looked puzzled but he stayed. Lorraine helped the uncle’s wife clean up
after supper. When the wife started washing the dishes, Lorraine picked up a
tea towel and started drying. The wife talked softly to Lorraine. She couldn’t
understand the words, but the meaning was one of friendship. When we left, the
wife hugged Lorraine a long time with tears in her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorraine
was supposed to leave the next day. She was ready in the morning. I walked down
to the general store with her, carrying her suitcase. She hadn’t been able to
pack all of her own things because many of the women had gifts for her. There
was a doll for Andrew, an elaborately carved Orthodox cross, a necklace, wooden
toys for Paul, a scarf and other mementos of her visit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
waited until 3 pm. Then I called the Ranger station. The Ranger who had been
coming for Lorraine had run off the road and was taken to the hospital. They
were sending her home tomorrow, but she wouldn’t be able to work for a while.
That left only one Ranger at the station so he couldn’t leave the station to go
out to Tuluksak and back. He would have to make some other arrangement. He said
to call him back in a couple days and he’d let us know what he had arranged. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
I called Ranger Thompson a couple days later, he said, “I made arrangements
with a man here in town. He is on his way out there now. I hurried back to the
trailer and got Lorraine and her suitcase. We hurried back to the general
store. When we got back to the store, the storekeeper said, “This man said the
Ranger sent him out here to take your wife back to Bethel…But I don’t know…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
man was drunk, very drunk. I said, “I’m sorry but she has changed her mind.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Wha’s
wrong. Ain’t I good enough to drive the prin..cess?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“No,
you are not. Thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Whad’da
‘bout the money Ranger Thompson promised me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“You
see Ranger Thompson about that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">After
he left, I called Ranger Thompson and told him,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“The
man you sent to drive Lorraine to Bethel arrived here very drunk. She still needs
a ride to Bethel.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I’m
sorry. He was sober when he left here. Look I’ve got more important things than
to find taxis for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">With
that he hung up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorraine
started to cry. I remembered that Mrs. Wallace had given me her card when she
left. I looked in my wallet for it. It had her home telephone number on it. I
called her,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Mrs.
Wallace? This is Sergeant Pritt out at the Shemyite community near Tuluksak. My
wife came from Baltimore to visit me. The Ranger brought her here from Bethel.
When she was ready to return, the Ranger had a vehicle accident on her way out
here. Ranger Thompson made arrangements with some man to pick up Lorraine
today. When the man arrived, he was very drunk, so we sent him back. Then I
called Ranger Thompson several minutes ago and he was angry and said that he
had better things to do than be my taxi service.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Lorraine
is stranded here. If you can find someone who will pick her up and take here to
Bethel, I can pay them $30.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Tell
your wife that someone will be there in three hours. I will call Ranger
Thompson and straighten him out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Three
hours later Mrs. Wallace herself arrived driving a four-wheel drive Dodge
truck. I found out later that she took Lorraine to her own house, called Ranger
Thompson and told him that she had Lorraine at her home and she would expect a
call from him the next day telling her what time to expect the plane to fly
Lorraine to Anchorage. She fixed a delicious supper for Lorraine and her own
family – a husband and two teenage children.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
next day a plane arrived to fly Lorraine to Anchorage. She was met by a very
apologetic secretary from the Department of Interior office. She made all the
arrangements for changing Lorraine’s reservations to Baltimore. Lorraine
discovered her seats had been changed to First Class!
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-5090713469603646952017-09-25T20:40:00.003-07:002017-09-25T20:40:59.657-07:00ICE DREAMS - CHAPTER F<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">I will be posting one chapter per week of my latest book, ICE DREAMS. Please note that the numerical chapters are autobiographical. The alphabetical chapters are pure fiction.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
arrived at Elmendorf AFB on January 19, 1961. My new stripes got me much nicer
quarters (at least while I was at Elmendorf). The next day I rode the bus into
town and found the Department of Interior offices.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Sergeant,
we have been expecting you. I suppose you are wondering why you have been given
detached duty with the Department of Interior and what your duties will be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“We
are putting another trailer in the Shemyite community. It has been modified to
provide a large classroom area. It is equipped with a whiteboard, a movie
projector, a slide projector, a typewriter, a mimeo graph machine, and a
reel-to-reel recorder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“You
gave a very insightful report. Now we are acting on it. We will leave it to you
how you will proceed with basic English education for the children and the
adults. We want a weekly report from you. You will give us a report of your
day-by-day activities, by the hour. You will give us a weekly report of how
well the children and adults are learning basic English. You will be honest
about any problems you are having. You will tell us what you need and what the
community needs. We are placing our confidence in you. Don’t let us down.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">On
January 23, 1961 I signed out of the Casual unit and went to the airfield. As
before I was flown in a small plane to Bethel, Alaska. There Ranger Thompson
met me with his four-wheel drive truck. In the back was a shiny yellow SnowCat
snowmobile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I
see that you won’t have to borrow a snowmobile in Tuluksak.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Oh,
I’ll have to borrow one. That one is for you. Do you know how to ride one?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“At
least you are honest. I’ll show you. You’ll find that they are a lot easier for
going through the snow than snowshoes or dog sleds.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
drove to Tuluksak and arrived earlier than we had the last time. As promised Thompson showed me how to start
the snowmobile, how to make it go forward, how to steer it, and how to stop it.
He gave some precautions, but said the best teacher was to ride.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
we arrived, I again went to the first trailer. I said, “Starshij,” “Tatyana?” I
was eagerly greeted and pulled into the trailer. The wife again gave me sweet
hot chai and black bread with yogurt. Igor was sent to bring the Starshij and
Tatyana to meet me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
they arrived, I told the Starshij through Tatyana that the government had sent
me to their community to teach the children and adults basic English. The new
trailer had a classroom in the front and a bedroom for me in the back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
asked the Starshij for permission to hold basic English classes in their
community. I suggested that the children come to school 8 am to noon. The adults
could come in two groups – women from 1 pm to 3 pm, then the men 3:15 pm to
5:15 pm. I would ring a bell at the beginning of each class. I also requested
that the mothers take turns, two at a time, sitting with the children and
helping if a child is sick or has to go to the toilet or is crying.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
Starshij frowned. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“It
is all right to have the classes for the children in the mornings. About the
mothers and the adult classes. I think the adults of the community must meet
and discuss how they want to do this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
had brought bread and peanut butter with me. I would have to find out about
obtaining water, food, and wood from Tatyana. They had stacked a large pile of
wood by the stove. I found bottles of water and much food in the cabinets. I
didn’t know how to turn on the kitchen range.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
next morning at 8 am I rang a schoolmarm bell vigorously. The children poured
out of the trailers. A couple mothers and Tatyana accompanied them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
had mimeographed a sheet with the letters of the alphabet. We began with the
first five letters. I wrote them on the whiteboard. Then I wrote some simple
words like apple, boy, cat, dog, and egg. I illustrated each word with a
picture. (I had grabbed up all the old magazines I could find and brought them
with me.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Then
we sang some simple children’s songs in English.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">After
that I let them stand, stretch, run in place, and other exercises. When it was
snack time, I had some crackers with jelly. That was messy but one of the
mothers went from child to child with a wet rag.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">After
the snack, we repeated the five letters five times. Then I had them sit down
and I showed them a series of slides I found among the educational supplies. It
had words and pictures illustrating the words. These seemed too hard for the
children so I stopped it after fifteen minutes and showed a couple of cartoon
films. They laughed even though they couldn’t understand any of the dialogue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
the women came, I repeated the alphabet lesson. I had cut out pictures of rooms
in a house and also pictures of food. I began vocabulary lessons with words
like chair, sofa, bed, blanket, skirt, shirt, trousers. When the men came,
after the alphabet lesson, the vocabulary lesson and pictures were tools like hammer,
axe, saw, wrench, then animals like bear, moose, and caribou.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That
night I spent several hours working on the lessons for the next day and writing
my day’s report. Afterward, I wrote to Lorraine:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Dear
Lorraine,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“This
is my first letter to you from the Shemyite community. It is with a heavy heart
that I tell you that it will not be possible for you and Paul to come here and
be with me in the near future if ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“The
situation here is dreadful. I cannot speak the people’s language and they
cannot speak with me. Today was the first day of basic English classes. I had
twelve children of all ages for four hours. Then I had five women for two hours
and seven men for two hours. How long will it take until I can say even simple
things to them?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“There
is constant danger that a bear or moose could come wandering into the community
and do a lot of damage before it left. In Spring that danger will be greatly
increased. There is not so much as one rifle in the community and none of the
men would know how to use one. But how can we bring someone in to teach them to
hunt or how to defend the community against wild animals when they can’t speak
English?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“When
Spring comes, they should plant gardens. Who can teach them what plants will
grow well here? Who and how can someone teach the men what time the salmon will
be thick in the river and how to catch them and how to smoke them? It is a
frightening thing for them to have been uprooted from a home and environment
where they knew how to maintain their way of life. Now they are in an entirely
new home and environment that they know nothing about and without the ability
to ask people who do know how to survive in this harsh environment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I
have only a small bedroom and a compact kitchen. The rest of the trailer is
devoted to classroom space. If you and Paul came up to Alaska, the nearest
place you could find an apartment would be in Bethel. Bethel is a two or three
hour drive on dirt and gravel road to Tuluksak. Then you have to travel by
snowmobile or dog sled from there to the Shemyite community. The government
gave me a snowmobile to use. I don’t know how I will get to Tuluksak when the
snow is gone. That is where there is a small store, the post office, and the
telephone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I
have resigned myself to the probability that I will have to stay here until my
enlistment expires in September 1962. I will try to get a thirty day leave in
September 1961. I would have to pay the air fare from Anchorage to Baltimore,
so I will be saving my money.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Please
let me know your feelings about all this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I
love you and miss you and Paul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">
“ Love,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> Troy”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
next day was Friday. I showed the children a calendar and drew a circle around
27 and another circle around 30. I mentally asked Tatyana to explain that we
would have classes on five days then be off two days and start classes again
for another five days. I’m not even sure Tatyana understood me. The mental
strain of being the only one who cannot converse with the others in the
community and yet being their instructor is tremendous. It is exhausting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
next day I slept late. Then I rode the snowmobile into Tuluksak and mailed my
letter to Lorraine and my first two daily reports to the Department of the
Interior office in Anchorage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
I returned to the community, I started making a snowman. Soon some of the
children saw me and started helping me. Then I showed them how to make snow
angels. They understood the word “angel” because it is very similar in Russian.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">For
my <i>piece de resistance </i>I told them
all to go to their house and get a cup and a spoon. While they were doing that,
I put some syrup in a pan, added some raspberry preserves, and brought it to a
boil. I turned off the burner, went back out to the children and showed them to
fill their cup with clean snow and then line up by the door to my trailer. One
by one I poured a little of the hot syrup onto their cup of snow. It became
“Eskimo ice cream.” They enjoyed this treat that I enjoyed as a child in West
Virginia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Afterward,
I went back into the trailer, took an afternoon nap, washed dishes and fixed
supper of fried spam and baked beans with a side dish of sauerkraut. I fixed a
cup of chai to drink with my meal. The little store had begun to stock it for
the Shemyite community.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">On
Sunday, Tatyana’s family and her uncle’s family gathered at the home of
Tatyana’s parents for Sunday dinner. They invited me to join them. I decided to
try an experiment. I took my Russian Bible with me and when the time seemed
appropriate, I read a simple passage from one of the Gospels and then began
reciting the Lord’s Prayer in Russian. They joined me. In many cases the words
they used were different. Nevertheless, they understood enough of the Russian
to keep in pace with me throughout the prayer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
all understood that there had been a breakthrough. The language barrier was
beginning to crumble. I had discovered a new tool for my classes with the
adults. From now on when I taught them the English word for a picture, I would
try to have the Russian word for it. The men came and hugged me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">It
became a custom in the community for a couple of families to get together for
Sunday dinner. They would invite me and at some time they would indicate that
it was time for me to read the Bible and pray. I would read a familiar Psalm or
Gospel portion, say a prayer with simple Russian words, and then begin the
Lord’s Prayer. They would all join in with me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One
day, one of the men whose name I had not learned, came to the trailer while the
children were in class. I heard some hammering outside. When I looked to see
what he had done, I saw fastened to the trailer a beautifully hand carved
Russian Orthodox cross. Without ordination or installation or any church’s
blessing I had become the community’s pastor!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">On
Monday, February 20, 1961 one of the boys, Stefan, became ill about an hour
after school began. He vomited. When one of the mothers took him to the toilet
to clean him up, she noticed that he was very hot. She said something to
Tatyana who communicated to me, “He is very hot and flushed. She is taking him
home.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
next morning, instead of children, Starshij and Tatyana came to my trailer.
Tatyana communicated, “Ten of the children are all sick. Like Stefan, they are
vomiting and are very hot. We do not know what to do. Can you go for help?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
dressed as warmly as possible and started the snowmobile. I rode into Tuluksak.
In the general store I asked where there was a doctor and how to contact him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“In
Bethel there is a doctor.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
asked to use the phone. I called the Ranger in Bethel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“This
is Sergeant Pritt from the Shemyite community near Tuluksak. We have an urgent
need for medical assistance. Most of the children in the community are very
ill. They are running high temperatures, vomiting. I don’t know any of the
other symptoms because of the language barrier. Please call the Department of
Interior office in Anchorage and let them know we need help. Then see if you
can get a doctor or even a nurse to come out here. Will you bring them?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I’ll
call Anchorage for you. As for the local medical people here, they are pretty
busy already. This time of year always brings a lot of illness.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Please
do what you can. This community could lose all of its children.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
drove back to the community with a heavy heart. I went from trailer to trailer
visiting the families with sick children. In each one, I would put a rag in
cold water, wring it out, and lay it on the child’s forehead (if the mother was
not already doing this). Then I would say a simple prayer for the child’s
recovery. I would pronounce the name “Jesus” clearly. I would motion for the
mother to continue using the cold water rags.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
next day, I returned to the general store and called the Ranger. He told me
that he couldn’t find any doctor or nurse who was willing to go out to the
community. They had all the sick people that they could care for now. As for
the Department of the Interior office in Anchorage, they said to tell me to
keep up the good work. I was both angry and discouraged. While I was in the general
store I bought some boullion cubes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Back
in the community, I again went to the trailers with sick children. The fevers
were gone but the children were weak and listless. I would go to the stove,
boil some water, and put a boullion cube in the cup. After it dissolved I would
motion for the mother to feed it to the child. I would leave another cube with
the mother. Before I left, I would pray for the child and for its mother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">By
prayer and bouillion cubes, the children slowly recovered. By Friday, they were
out of bed and moving around in the trailers. By Monday, February 27, 1961 the
classroom was filled with children who had recovered and were able to learn and
participate in class.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
wrote to Lorraine and told her what had happened. I washed my hands in alcohol
and put the letter in the oven before sending it. I didn’t want to send the
germs of this illness back to them. My precautions were probably foolish
considering how many unclean hands would handle the letter before it was
delivered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
my daily report, I told that all the children seemed to be well. I urged that
at least a dozen rifles, powerful enough to bring down a bear or moose, and a
supply of ammunition be sent as soon as possible. The men of the community should
be learning to use the weapons and practicing target shooting now. They need to
be ready by this Spring when hungry bears, moose, and other large animals may
roam into the community looking for food. If any such animals did come into the
community, they would do a lot of damage and maybe even attack some residents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
my basic English class with the women, I began to include words for parts of
the body and symptoms of illnesses – fever, rash, vomit, pain. With the men, I
began to include words for the large animals and also for the parts of a rifle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-54766733557259906702017-09-18T17:18:00.000-07:002017-09-18T17:18:37.579-07:00CHAPTER TEN and CHAPTER E - ICE DREAMS<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">I will be posting one chapter per week of my latest book, ICE DREAMS. Please note that the numerical chapters are autobiographical. The alphabetical chapters are pure fiction.</span></i></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">CHAPTER TEN<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
Casual Barracks had open bays on each floor. The bays were divided into
cubicles, each of which contained two bunk beds. I was in a top bunk which came
almost to the top of the cubicle partition. It had been a long time since I had
been in an open bay. I felt uneasy, maybe it was part of the fear that I was
feeling. It was three or four hours each night before I could fall asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
Casual Barracks was the “labor pool” for any details on base. There were all
kinds of reasons that a person might be on casual status. When a sergeant came
looking for a group of men for a detail, they tried to avoid choosing the men who
had just come in from a remote site. However, they could not do so overtly
without getting in trouble themselves. Therefore, we had to “cooperate” by
making ourselves scarce. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That
was more difficult for me than for most of the men. I received a letter from
Lorraine with $3 and it was gone almost immediately. My shower clogs had
broken, I needed socks, I bought some cough drops, a pack of cigarettes, and a
cup of coffee. It was gone. Some of the guys make themselves scarce by going
into town. The bus used to be free. Now it is 50 cents each way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
Sunday after we arrived, I went to the evening service of a church just off
base. The pastor was Reverend Ivy. It was in a Quonset hut and was named “Lighthouse Mission.” I wrote:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“The
service was quite Pentecostal though more subdued than I expected. They prayed
twice and they pray like the people in the Free Methodist Church – all at once,
out loud. The preacher and another man played the guitar and a girl played a
kind of rinky-tink piano. I’m referring to the way she played – the piano was a
nice one. The minister didn’t feel he had a message, so he didn’t preach.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Fifty
years later, in September 2010, Lorraine and I went to a church at that same
location. It is now a large church with three campuses. It is still
Pentecostal, but now its name is Muldoon Community Assembly of God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
next day, Monday, December 19, 1960, I requested and received a partial pay. It
was an advance on my pay for the first half of January 1961, $15. Because of my
allotments, my net pay was only $29/month. Since I was being transferred to Ft.
Meade, Maryland, I anticipated that my travel pay would be several hundred
dollars at least. I was hoping they would advance part of that to me so that I
could buy a plane ticket home. I wouldn’t find out until we processed out.
Processing would start Tuesday, December 27. Monday, December 26 was a holiday
since Christmas was on Sunday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Processing
went by in a whirl. We were scheduled to fly from Anchorage to Seattle on the
evening of December 30, 1960. I thought that if everything went right I might
just be home the evening of our second wedding anniversary. Things didn’t go
all right. The weather grounded flights for the next several days. It was
January 2, 1961 before we flew out of Anchorage, Alaska.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
we landed, the bus from McCord Air Force Base to Seattle-Tacoma Airport had
just left. There wouldn’t be another bus for several hours. Along with a lot of
others on the plane, I decided to take a “gypsy” cab to the airport. When the
driver led four of us out to his car, my chin dropped. It was a Ford Falcon! He
put one airman in the front seat and put a duffel bag at his feet and a
suitcase on his lap. He tied two or three duffel bags on the roof, filled the
trunk, put three of us in the back seat and put some bags in with us. He drove
like a maniac! He charged us each $5.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">At
Seattle-Tacoma Airport I was able to get a ticket to Washington, D.C. I called
my parents and told them when I would be arriving that evening. When I arrived
at Lorraine’s parents’ house, I ran upstairs to embrace Lorraine and then I ran
up another flight of stairs to see Paul. <o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">CHAPTER E</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
I returned to Anchorage on my way home, there were fifteen days that I had to
wait before I departed for home. I inquired at a number of offices about the
people who had been relocated from Shemya. No one knew anything, and most
didn’t know who the people were. Finally, I found someone who knew what I was
talking about. I was directed to one of the security offices. One of the men
recognized me and knew that I had been helpful in ferreting out the various
Russian attempts to spy on Shemya.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I’m
glad to see you Airman. I think you can be of help to us. We need a report on
how the Shemyites are doing. With most people I could send, there will be a
communication problem and a trust issue with the people. I am going to arrange
to have you assigned to us for five days, if you are willing that is. We will
take you out to where they are to have a short visit with them. When you
return, I want a complete report.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I’ll
be glad to go. However, I am broke. I couldn’t afford a bus or train ticket.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“We
will take care of the expenses. You couldn’t get there by bus or train. Go back
to your barracks and pack enough clothes for several days. We will pick you up
at noon, so eat an early lunch.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">At
noon, they picked me up and took me to the airfield. There a small plane was
waiting and it took me to Bethel. From Bethel, a Federal Wildlife officer took
me by four-wheel drive pick-up truck to the village of Tuluksak. There was a
sort of trading post or general store constructed of logs with no name on the
outside of it. We ate our supper there. The ranger borrowed a snowmobile to
take me the rest of the way. He told the owner that he would be coming back and
would like a bed for the night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">That
meant the Shemyites did not live far from there and that I would be staying
several nights with them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I’m
going to drop you off. Then you will be on your own. I’ll give you all day
tomorrow. Then I’ll pick you up the following morning. Weather is unpredictable
in Alaska. If there is a snowstorm, just wait it out. I’ll return for you as
soon as I can.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
went through the woods on the snowmobile. It was freezing cold riding out in
the open. The cold wind felt like knives cutting into my face. Suddenly, we
were in an opening and I could see several dozen trailers, placed helter-skelter
in the clearing. I got off the snowmobile, shouldered my duffel bag and headed
for the nearest trailer. I heard the sound of the snowmobile trailing off in
the distance. “Then you will be on your own,” he had said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">At
the first trailer, I knocked. I thought my fingers would fall off - I was so
cold. A man came to the door. He looked suspiciously at me. He asked a one word
question in their language. I said, “Starshij or Tatyana?” Pointing his finger
at me, he said, with a questioning inflection, “Airman?” I said, “Yes. Da” He
pulled me up into the trailer. Seating me beside a pot-belly wood stove, he
said a lot that I couldn’t understand. Then he called for his wife and gave her
some commands. Soon I had a hot cup of chai in one hand and a thick piece of
Russian dark bread smeared with yogurt in the other hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Next,
he called the name “Igor” and a boy of about twelve appeared. I heard
“Starshij” and “Tatyana.” The boy pulled on a parka and gloves and went out the
door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">After
a while, an older man and Tatyana returned with Igor. I tried intently to calm
my mind so that Tatyana could communicate with me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“The
Starshij you knew in the cave did not survive the attack on him by Ilya. He
died in the hospital after they flew him from Shemya to Anchorage.” Pointing to
the older man, she said, “This is Mixajl. He is now our Starshij. Why have you
come?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I
am on my way home after serving my year out on Shemya. I cannot leave until
December 30. The Air Force asked me to visit with you all and report to them
how you are doing and what you need for your transition to living here. They
know that I can communicate in a limited way with you and that your people know
they can trust me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Tatyana
interpreted my answer to Mixajl. He grunted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“There
are Russians in this area whose ancestors came here over one hundred and fifty
years ago. There is an old Russian mission not far from here. We have an
affinity with them but few of them now speak Russian and we barely understand it
anyhow. We need to learn English and our children need to learn English.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Our
men have to learn new skills in order to sustain our life here. The government
has given us food and money, but surely that will not continue for long. Also,
our men cannot have dignity if they are not supporting themselves and their
families. We need some native peoples to teach us how to hunt and fish. We need
for someone to show us how to farm and what crops and plants will grow well in
this area.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Those
are all reasonable requests and I will communicate them to the government
offices. With your Starshij’s permission, I would like for you to take me to as
many families as possible tomorrow and let them tell me what they need and how
they are adjusting to this move.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“If
you have not heard, Ilya and Gretchen blew up the cave. There is now a huge
crater on the tundra above where the great room of the cave was located. Then
the bodies of Ilya and Gretchen were found on the beach near the cave. They
both had been shot in the forehead. Later it was discovered that a civilian
contractor living on Shemya was a Russian spy. He had been their boss.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Tatyana
relayed this information to the Starshij. They talked at length. Finally,
Tatyana said that I had his permission to visit other families. He said that
Tatyana must have her father’s permission to accompany me. Of course, if she
did not accompany me, I could not learn anything from the people I visited. The
Starshij also said that I could stay in his trailer for the two nights that I
would be there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
Starshij did not seem to be a pleasant person. When we reached their trailer,
he said some rough things to his wife. She looked older than him. She screwed
up her mouth and gave him a curt reply. She showed me into a small bedroom
which had no furniture. On the floor was a long burlap bag filled with straw or
pine needles. When she closed the door, it was pitch black inside the room. I
kept my clothes on and covered myself with my parka. I was not welcome in this
home!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
next morning, I was awakened with some rough, derisive words. When I came out
of the room, the woman led me to the trailer’s bathroom. There was a basin of
cold water sitting on the sink. I relieved myself, washed my hands and face in
the cold water and then poured the wash water into the toilet bowl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Breakfast
was a bowl of kasha and a cup of unsweetened chai.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Soon
after breakfast, Tatyana came to my rescue. We went to a half dozen trailers.
Then Tatyana took me to her family’s trailer for lunch. Her father and mother
were pleasant people and treated me as an honored guest. After lunch, we
visited another half dozen trailers. The last trailer we visited was that of
Tatyana’s uncle, aunt, and three young cousins. It was a happy family. They
were expecting us and the aunt had prepared a special dinner for us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">After
dinner, Tatyana’s parents and younger brother came over to visit. We all sat
around on the floor on cushions except the aunt, uncle, and Tatyana’s parents
who sat on the sofa and only chair in the living room. The aunt kept everyone’s
glass filled with hot sweetened chai. I was glad that I didn’t have to go back
to Mixajl and his wife until it was time to go to bed. When I returned to my room in their trailer I
could tell my duffel bag had been thoroughly searched. I was also glad that the
next morning, soon after a breakfast of kasha and unsweetened chai, the ranger
came for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
took careful notes at every trailer we visited so that I could write a good
report when I returned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“REPORT
ON A VISIT TO THE SHEMYITES -<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">On
December 20 – 22, 1960 I visited the community of relocated Shemyites near
Tuluksak, Alaska. These people, who formerly lived in a large cave on the
Island of Shemya, Alaska were relocated to this place some months ago. They were
given FEMA trailers as dwellings and they have received enough food and money
from the government to sustain life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
spoke with their “Starshij” (elder, elected leader) on several occasions
through an interpreter, Tatyana. These people are descendants of Cossack
soldiers who fought with the White Army during the Russian Revolution. The
Bolshevik victory prevented their return to their native lands. They bought a
fishing vessel and set sail for Alaska as immigrants, as did many other
Russians at that time. Their ship was caught in a storm and wrecked on Shemya
Island. Many of them perished. The survivors discovered a large cave which was
heated by a large thermal pool. There they lived. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Their
language is a patois of Kazakh and Russian words. They were an insular
community and never learned English or any other modern language. They
understand each other, but not anyone else. When I first met them, they had an
interpreter, Gretchen, who knew English. She had not been born in the community
and, as it turned out, was a Russian spy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">They
developed into skilled craftsmen who made souvenir objects which they sold to
native Alaskans and Siberian natives who then resold them as “native crafts.”
They had an impressive workshop and design studio in the cave. They caught fish
and other seafood from the ocean and learned to garden in the tundra during the
brief Alaskan summer. They also bartered for food when they sold their crafts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Now
they are in a totally foreign environment. Here is what they need in order to
successfully relocate to this new location.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">1.
There is an urgent need by both the children and the adults to learn English.
The children cannot go to school without a basic knowledge of English. The
adults cannot learn to garden, to fish, to hunt, to begin to produce crafts
once more until they can communicate with persons outside their own community.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">2.
The men need powerful rifles and training in how to use them. They never had
firearms on Shemya. Now they live in a wilderness where a brown bear or a moose
could devastate their community. A trailer is no protection against either one
of those animals. Also, they need to be taught how to hunt and trap animals for
food.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">3.
Native Alaskans could teach them many things once they can communicate with
each other. The men are skilled craftsmen. The women are excellent
seamstresses. For almost a year they have not been able to use their skills.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
recommend that the winter months be used to give both the adults and children
intensive instruction in basic English. This should be supplemented with films,
records of simple songs in which the words are distinctly pronounced and
accompanied with pictures.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Several
soldiers could give some of the men lessons in marksmanship, firearms safety
and maintenance. These soldiers should have experience working with people
whose language they can’t understand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
weather in the Tuluksak area is different than on Shemya. The people need to be
taught how to dress in order to survive in snow and ice and sub-zero weather
for months at a time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">These
are not difficult measures and these are good people who deserve our help after
being torn from a familiar home and being relocated in a strange environment.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
was thanked for my help and returned to my unit at Elmendorf. Christmas was
several days away. After Christmas, we began processing out on December 27,
1960. We were supposed to fly from Anchorage to McCord AFB near Seattle,
Washington on the evening of December 30, 1960. Bad weather cancelled all
flights out of Anchorage. It was January 2, 1961 before we were flown south to
McCord AFB, arriving in the very early hours of January 3. From there we took a
“gypsy” taxi cab to Seattle-Tacoma Airport. I was able to get a seat on a plane
to Washington (DC) National Airport and my parents met me there and drove me to
Baltimore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
had to report in to my new unit assignment at Fort Meade, Maryland before
January 12, 1961. That gave Lorraine and I about a week to find an apartment.
We searched the classified ads, drove to one apartment after another. Either
the apartment was too dirty to clean, or it was in a bad neighborhood, or the
rent was more than we could afford. We resigned ourselves to living in the home
of Lorraine’s parents, and continuing our search on the weekends. It is a good
thing we didn’t find an apartment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
reported in to my new unit on January 11, 1961. The First Sergeant met me as I
entered the Orderly Room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Well,
Airman, I see that you liked Alaska, and Alaska liked you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
furrowed my brow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“You
don’t know what I mean? You really haven’t a clue?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“No,
First Sergeant.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Sit
down in that chair and read these orders.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
first set of orders promoted me to Staff Sergeant. That was two grades above
Airman Second Class. It also awarded me an Air Force Skill Category that I had
never heard of. This Category had a pay supplement for living in a high cost
duty zone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
second set of orders transferred me to detached duty under supervision of the
Department of the Interior in the Tuluksak, Alaska area. I was to report to the
Department of the Interior offices in Anchorage, Alaska no later than January
20, 1961. Transportation of dependents and household goods was authorized at
government expense.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
First Sergeant said, “I have never seen the equal of either one of those
orders. You must have friends in high places.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Not
any that I know of, First Sergeant. I do have a good idea what they want me to
do. It is a wild story involving Cossack soldiers, modern-day cave-dwellers,
and Russian spies.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Sounds
like they are going to have you writing scripts for movies. Good luck to you.
It sounds like you have more good luck than most of us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Thank
you, First Sergeant.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
was sure going to need good luck when I break the news to Lorraine and to her
parents!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There
were tears, then anger, then a day of sullen silence. In the end, Lorraine
realized that I had to obey military orders. A week from now I would be going
back to Alaska. Once I was there we would have to decide whether she would
remain in Baltimore and wait for me or whether she would join me in Alaska.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">If
I had remained at Fort Meade, as I expected, I could have been separated from
the Air Force in September 1961 to go to seminary. Now that I was being
returned to overseas duty, arguably another remote site, I probably would have
to remain at least a year and maybe until my enlistment ends in September 1962.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-73828561499781587472017-09-12T20:48:00.000-07:002017-09-12T20:48:17.011-07:00ICE DREAMS - CHAPTER NINE<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">I will be posting one chapter per week of my latest book, ICE DREAMS. Please note that the numerical chapters are autobiographical. The alphabetical chapters are pure fiction.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">By
October I had completed 75% of my tour on Shemya. My DEROS was 31 December
1960. All I knew at this point was that the Air Force would fly us from Shemya
to Anchorage, then from Anchorage to Seattle. From Seattle we were on our own
to get home. Jon Boettner had already received his next assignment. I had not
received my next assignment. Lorraine thought that I had received my next
assignment and was just keeping it from her until I thought it was the right
time to tell her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorraine
had gone back to work at the Maryland State Department of Vital Statistics in
the same office where she worked before she moved to Syracuse to be with
me. Again, when I was stationed at Ft.
Meade for several months and then was sent to Alaska, she worked in that office
until the last six weeks of her pregnancy. Several months after Paul was born,
she was hired back into that same office. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorraine’s
mother took care of Paul while Lorraine was at work. Since she lived in the
same house with her parents and grandparents, they all became very attached to
him. They didn’t know how they could stand it when I returned and we would
“take Paul away” from them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
wrote to Lorraine about trailers. I told her that if I was stationed in a state
west of the Mississippi, we could buy a used 8’x32’ trailer pretty cheap. The
federal government had thousands of them built during World War II for housing
in areas where housing was scarce. These areas were mainly in the East so many
states in the East passed zoning laws to exclude these wartime trailers from
being used. States in the West did not have these laws. I pointed out that the
advantage of a trailer was that it already had furniture in it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
lost a friend and gained a friend in October. Mort rotated home. He was one of
the married guys. His wife had a baby girl a couple months before Paul was
born. We were always showing each other our baby’s pictures when we received
new ones. A new man, Keith, joined our circle of Christians. He had gone to
Rockmont Bible College.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
would sometimes go to the bowling alley, buy a beer, and nurse it while
watching the men bowl. It was pretty expensive to bowl. They probably had to
pay for the cost of the bowling alleys. They were nicer than any I had ever
seen. There were even automatic pinsetters in the lanes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One
day it rained all day long. One of the fellows said “It is as wet as eating a
watermelon while you are taking a shower and soaking your feet.” Winter is
trying to take hold. A couple days later, the ground was noticeably freezing.
The air was cold and you could feel the frost in your nostrils. It was clear
and the sun or moon shining onto the ocean was beautiful beyond words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
had taken the coffee pot Lorraine and I bought several days after she came to
Syracuse. We bought a pot, a coffee pot and a cast iron skillet that day. Our
first apartment was one room. It had once been the front porch of the house.
There was a wash basin, a narrow stove, a refrigerator, a double bed, a small
table and two wooden chairs. The closet was a metal pipe for hangers in an
inset in the wall. Lorraine shipped her things to Syracuse by Railway Express
in a large trunk. That trunk became a vital part of the “closet.” Later we
bought an unfinished four drawer dresser.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">A
hole had eaten its way through the bottom of the coffee pot, but for
sentimental reasons I couldn’t throw it away. I set it on top the dresser.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
were sending reel-to-reel tapes to each other. One day I received a tape from
Lorraine. It was supposed to have messages from my parents, my brother, and my
sister on one side and a message from Lorraine on the other side.
Unfortunately, she had recorded both sides without the microphone plugged into
the machine so both sides were blank.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
I asked Lorraine to get a radio for me I insisted that it must be a Zenith with
five tubes. I didn’t want a transistor radio. After six months use, a tube
burned out. I had to write to Lorraine, tell her what tube I needed, and then
wait until I received the tube from her before I could resume listening to the
radio. She sent me the correct tube and the radio sounded better than ever or
so it seemed to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">An
Army entertainment troupe on its way to Japan stopped over on Shemya and put on
an excellent show for us in the new theatre.
It lasted for over an hour. There was a comedian, a pantomimist, a
singer, a quartet called The Quarter Notes, and a ventriloquist. It really
brightened our day. It was not a USO show. All the performers were Army
enlisted personnel and entertaining was their Army duty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">All
of us who were “short-timers” had a sheet with the number of blocks as days
until we would go home. Each day we drew an X in that box. We called it a
“sweat sheet.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">At
the beginning of October, I gave up tobacco. No more cigarettes or pipes.
Lorraine thought I should have started with beer. I did not drink beer that
much, but it did relax me. I could not afford more than a half dozen cans a
month. That is moderation by anyone’s definition. I must have felt guilty about
it. One evening I went into the Base Exchange intending to buy a can of beer
and take it back to my room. Who should come up behind me but Master Sergeant
Donavan. Instead of asking for a beer, I bought a pack of gum.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
Inspector General team was scheduled for a three-day visit. The barracks, the
radio station, the mail room, our individual rooms, our uniforms and boots, our
foot lockers all had to be shining like a new silver dollar. All pin-ups had to
be taken down and put away someplace where they were not visible. As usual with
Very Important Persons, we hardly saw any of them during the three days but
there was an electric charge of tension in the air.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
had been a detachment of a unit in Anchorage. We became a unit in our own
right, 6984<sup>th</sup> Radio Squadron Mobile. More than that, everyone who
had been stationed on Shemya before December 31, 1960 was awarded the
Distinguished Unit Award. I guess it was for all we had put up with and done
without before they opened the new barracks and other facilities. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">November
was a very gloomy, dreary month. It was cold, slippery and sliding when
walking. The wind several times exceeded 100 m.p.h. according to the U.S.
Weather Service. The daylight hours were shorter every day. Even during
daylight it was gloomy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
had received my assignment. I would be stationed at Ft. Meade, Maryland. That
was good news insofar as we would be close to Baltimore where both Lorraine and
my parents lived. All our old friends were in Baltimore. The bad news part of
it was that Ft. Meade was in an area where the cost of living was probably the
highest of any of the bases where I could have been assigned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorraine
was discouraged because, even though she had been working full time, there was
no money in savings for us to set up housekeeping. The car repairs had been
more than expected. She had to buy car insurance and pay for license tags. She
bought a winter coat for herself and a sewing machine. She paid off the car
loan. All were wise and necessary expenses. Nevertheless, I got angry for a
while until I had reasoned it out. Also, when I talked to some of the other
guys who were about to go home, I discovered that most of them were deep in
debt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorraine
was really discouraged and down in the dumps. I could tell it from her letters
and from the sound of her voice on the tapes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
new service club had been scheduled to open when the new barracks were opened,
but they decided to open it ahead of schedule so that we could use it. The
lounge was nice with comfortable chairs and a fireplace with logs burning. It
was a real morale booster. Life seemed to be getting more miserable by the day
on Shemya. Several times the Northwest Airlines flight (which was now stopping
at Shemya three times a week – with mail) could not land and had to fly back to
Anchorage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
now had to walk to a separate building to do our laundry. More often than not
there was no hot water and we had to wash our clothes in cold water. There was
only one dryer working. I had to wait until it wasn’t being used. I would dry
my fatigue uniforms in the dryer and bring my socks back to my room and hang
them all over the room to dry. Then I had to press the fatigues. That took me
an hour and a half for each set.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
had slacked off on working on the Classical Greek course from University of
Kentucky. I had to send them a dollar to extend the expiration time to next
year. I promised myself that I would work on it when I got back to the (south
48) States.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Our
baby Paul now weighs 17 pounds. I wonder what he will think of me. Lorraine’s
parents and grandparents will miss him. He will miss them and I will be a
stranger who has come into his life. Lorraine said that he took one of his toys
apart. Her mother couldn’t believe that that precious baby would tear up one of
his toys.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
December, I sent a Santa letter to Paul by way of Eielson AFB. They took it to
Santa Claus House in North Pole, Alaska from which post office it was
postmarked and sent on its way to Paul in Baltimore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
was scheduled to leave Shemya on 18 or 19 December. In the meantime, I was
supposed to be clearing the various offices on base and packing my clothes and
gear to leave. Everyone who had work to do knew which men had been relieved of
duty at work because they were going home. Those people would come looking for
us for a “detail.” We spent a lot of time dodging details. If you were clearing
offices on base you were exposing yourself to details, so I hadn’t cleared many
offices.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">On
15 December at 1:00 pm, I received a call from the Orderly Room on the barracks
phone. An Air Force C-54 was leaving from Shemya at 3:00 pm and I was to be on
it! My clothes were all dirty. I hadn’t cleared base. While I cleared base, my
roommate Tom said he would pack for me. I ran around like a tornado and
finished clearing base by 2:00 pm. When I got back to the barracks, I made some
changes in the packing. I put my clothes and gear in less bags so I could
handle them. Just then a truck pulled up to pick up our gear. There followed a
hectic hour getting our gear to Air Freight, signing out in the Orderly Room,
and getting down to the runway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
waited alongside the runway for several hours and it began to get dark. Some
sergeant came in a jeep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Get
in. I’ll take you to the chow hall for supper. Hurry up and eat!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
we arrived at the chow hall, he put us at the head of the line. When we sat
down to eat, he was at the table every five minutes telling us to hurry. We
were taken back out to the runway and we waited another hour. It was pitch
black dark. If there was a moon, we didn’t see it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Finally,
the plane arrived. It had flown a huge load of potatoes out to Shemya. There
were three crews of Reserve officers who had to get a certain amount of flying
hours every quarter to keep their flight pay. There was also a chaplain. I
don’t know what his role was. Inside the plane there was a bench along one of
the sides. It was made of aluminum bars with plastic straps woven just like a
folding lawn chair. However, the aluminum bars were thin and bent. The bench
was broken. There were seat belts which we were required to wear. Since we
were, in effect, sitting on the floor, they were ineffectual.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
load of potatoes had left a layer of fine dirt on the floor about an inch or
more thick. After the plane took off, every time the plane hit an air pocket
and dropped or bounced, the dirt filled the air. At one point in the flight, it
became rough and bouncy. I became air sick. The chaplain took me inside the
portion of the plane where the officers were all in seats and it was
pressurized. He let me go into the latrine to vomit and then wash up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
second half of the flight involved going over mountains. This was the dangerous
part of the flight. There have been many airplanes crash in the mountains of
Alaska. The snow can hide the top portion of a mountain. The plane’s engine may
not be powerful enough to reach a safe altitude. The thin cold air reduces the
power and efficiency of an engine. Also the cold air and wind can affect the
movements of the rudder and wing flaps. The plane we were on was old. It was
the same as a DC-4<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
the plane ascended to higher altitude, we were gasping for air. The portion of
the plane where we were “seated” was not pressurized. The chaplain guessed our
plight and came back into our section and took one man at a time into the
pressurized part of the plane. There were no extra seats. We had to stand by
the door. If the plane encountered turbulence, we hung onto whatever we could
grab. After ten or fifteen minutes, the chaplain would take us back and bring
another man forward. There were only a half dozen of us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Sometime
before the plane reached Anchorage, the pilot had to climb even higher. All of
us passed out and we were unconscious or semi-conscious when the plane landed
at Elmendorf AFB. It was 3:30 am. We had to wait until 5:00 am before a bus
came out to pick us up. Around 7:00 am we were able to eat breakfast. Then we
had to wait until 8:00 am until some office opened to be assigned beds in the
Casual Barracks. They gave us bed linens. We made up whatever unoccupied bunk
we could find and then slept until that afternoon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Someone,
maybe the chaplain, reported that we had passed out on the flight into
Anchorage. All of us who had been on that flight had to report to sick call the
next day. The doctor saw us without going through the medic who screened who
got in to see the doctor. He questioned each of us closely about conditions on
board the plane. We all gave similar answers. The doctor cussed and cussed. He
checked us over very closely. Then he told us all to come back on Monday
morning. He wanted to see us again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">If
there was a laundromat, I never saw one. I was told that it took eight days to
get your clothes back if you sent them to the base laundry and dry cleaners. I
didn’t have the money for that anyhow. As usual, I was broke. I washed my
clothes by hand in the sink, wrung them out by hand and laid and hung them on
empty bunks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
we turned in our Arctic gear in a couple days, I would have to turn in my
parka. The only other heavy coat I had was my blue overcoat. To wear it, I had
to wear my Class A dress blue uniform. I pulled the jacket, trousers, and blue
shirts out of my duffel bag and set to work pressing them. I put a blanket on a
table for an “ironing board,” and used a borrowed portable iron. I also had to
shine my dress shoes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
was filled with fears. I went to their service club. There were the same
comfortable chairs, the same fireplace with a log fire. There were women. I was
afraid to look at them, afraid they would think that I was staring. I heard the
sound of them talking and laughing and I was afraid they were laughing at me. I
was afraid the Air Force would take me to Seattle and I wouldn’t have enough
money to get home. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to get a flight. I had been on a
little island five thousand miles from home for a whole year. Now that I was
back in civilization and would soon be heading home, I was afraid. Where does a
grown man go to cry? Who would care, anyway?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
whole point of sending us back on that potato wagon was so we could leave for
home before Christmas. The people at Elmendorf had a different idea. They would
not even begin processing us out until December 27. We were scheduled to fly
from Anchorage to Seattle on the night of December 30, 1960 exactly on our
DEROS! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-14606234350147814332017-09-04T19:16:00.001-07:002017-09-04T19:16:40.945-07:00ICE DREAMS - CHAPTER D
<br />
<div align="left" style="margin: 0px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">I will be posting one chapter per week of my latest book, ICE DREAMS. Please note that the numerical chapters are autobiographical. The alphabetical chapters are pure fiction.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">It was the beginning of
July. When it isn’t foggy, Alaska is as beautiful in this month as it gets all
year. The tundra was green. Tiny flowers gave the effect of the tundra being
dusted by a shower of multicolored flakes.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Elmendorf AFB had sent out
to Shemya some well-used band instruments. The Captain was encouraging men who
had been in band in high school to join together as a group to play on the
Fourth of July. Those who had volunteered were being excused from work duties
to practice. They came together</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></span><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">pretty well as a musical
ensemble.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I had been back from
Anchorage for nearly a month. There were a half dozen Christian men, including
MSG Donavan, who met together in one of the barracks one midweek evening each
week for Bible study. Evenings changed depending on our work schedules. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The discussions were wide-ranging and we
sometimes kept going for two or three hours. After I returned from Anchorage,
there was a civilian contract worker in the group, John Hamrick from Williston,
North Dakota. He knew the Bible and said that he was born-again. The group
accepted him. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Somehow, he didn’t seem
right to me. I began to notice that if anyone mentioned work, he tried to keep
the conversation on that topic. He pretended to know what we did inside our
secret work environment. I didn’t like it. I would always change the subject,
and I could tell that he wasn’t happy when I did.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The only other instances
that I knew of when military men and civilian contractors associated were when
a GI wanted to buy some hard liquor. There were only two possibilities, a
Filipino or a civilian contractor. The Japanese could buy liquor, but they
wouldn’t sell it to GIs.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">On the third of July, some
guys walking along the beach made a shocking discovery. Lying on the beach in
front of what had been the cave entrance were the bodies of a man and a woman.
Their hands were tied behind their backs. They had both been shot in the
forehead. Lying beside each of them were the rifles taken from the two airmen
who had guarded the knapsack bombs. Some person or persons came up behind the
guards and hit them in the head, knocking them out. When they became conscious,
their hands were tied behind their back and their rifles and ammunition were
missing. .</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The corpses were those of
Ilya and Gretchen. Someone, or more than one person, who was on the Island, or
came onto the Island, had executed Ilya and Gretchen. It meant that Ilya and
Gretchen had been living on the Island for the past couple months, or they had
been brought back to the Island to be executed. Either possibility meant danger
for all of us.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I spoke to MSG Donavan, “I
don’t think it is wise for us to invite that civilian, John Hamrick, into our
group. He doesn’t have any kind of security clearance, and he is much too interested
in our work.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“He’s a Christian. He
studies the Bible. He says that he has been born again. What more do you want?”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“There are many Christians
in Russia, even Baptist Christians. Stalin was a seminary student before he
became a political activist. His Christian faith does not mean his loyalty is
to the United States. He can be a Christian and still be loyal to the USSR.
Even if he is an American citizen, he may still be a Communist sympathizer. You
just don’t know.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“More than that. If Ilya
and Gretchen have been living on this Island the last two months, where would
be the most likely place they were staying? In the civilian residences area. If
they were staying on the Island and were executed by someone living on the
Island, the most likely conclusion is that there is a Russian spy living on
this Island and that he is one of the civilian contractors.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“You may have a point.”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Captain Goetz sent a
report of the discovery of the two dead civilians who were formerly “cave
dwellers,” to Elmendorf AFB. The office for security did not take long in
seeing the similarity in their execution and the subduing of the airmen
guarding the knapsack bombs and that the rifles taken from the guards were
found with the bodies. They evidently came to the same conclusion I had reached
concerning the civilian contract workers.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">An electric fence was
constructed on two sides of the civilian workers’ compound. This enclosed both
their residence area and the buildings they were constructing. The fence was
guarded twenty-four hours a day. If any civilian left the area, to pick up
their mail or receive a shipment that came in by plane, they were escorted at
all times by an armed guard. The civilians were no longer allowed to go to the
cocktail lounge in the airport terminal. There was to be no fraternization of
military personnel and civilian contractors.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">On the fourth of July, we
had a parade down through the barracks’ road and on to the chow hall. Fourth of
July was chosen as the day for the monthly luau. The Filipino mess crew really
outdid themselves. The ice sculpture was of the Statue of Liberty. In her torch,
they had a sparkler. The music was all patriotic. Kate Smith singing “God Bless
America,” the Air Force Band playing John Philip Sousa marches and of course
“Off We Go Into The Wild Blue Yonder.” </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The noise of several
hundred men talking and the sound of the music nearly drowned out the noise of
a scuffle outside. We did hear the sound of gunshots. We tried to get outside
to see what was going on. A guard at the door called for the First Sergeant and
Captain Goetz. No one else was allowed to leave the chow hall.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Later, we found out that a
civilian had made his way out of the civilian compound by wading out into the
ocean, then coming back on the ocean side of the runway. The runway was about
fifteen feet above the level of the beach and hid him from view. The runway was
almost as high as the chow hall roof. He had a knapsack bomb which he intended
to throw onto the roof of the chow hall. It was later determined that he was the
one who had assembled the other ten knapsack bombs. In his residence were found
bomb-making materials.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">With the arrest of John
Hamrick and his departure to Anchorage for trial, we breathed a sigh of relief,
but it was premature.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">One night in early August,
we received a mysterious message from Elmendorf. We were to send ten men with
loaded weapons and hand grenades to the rocky beach at the end of the runway.
There we would find a Zodiac type boat. While the rest of the men covered him,
one man was to slash the boat, or put a white phosphorous grenade on it, or do
anything else to make it unusable. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Another group of heavily
armed men were to search the civilian contractors’ area house-by-house looking
for any men who did not belong there. Still another group was to fan out over
the Island looking for men who did not belong on the Island. A surveillance
satellite had located a Russian ship anchored in the lee of Attu Island where
it could not be seen from Shemya. Tonight, a Zodiac type boat with six men in it
had left the ship and went to Shemya where it landed at the end of the runway.
The men climbed out, unloaded the boat and took off running. We destroyed the
boat, but we did not find the men. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Now Shemya Island was in
grave danger. All the civilian workers were rounded up and flown back to
Anchorage. There each one was fingerprinted and compared with hiring records of
the companies. They didn’t want any of the men who had landed in the boat to
escape by blending in with the workers. Obviously, they were depending on one
of the workers to host them while they proceeded to commit acts of sabotage.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">There was a vast expanse
of tundra on Shemya. There were also many abandoned buildings. During the War,
there were many foxholes and bunkers dug into the tundra. The tundra vegetation
had long since covered them over. They would make excellent hiding places. Dogs
were brought in from Anchorage to go across the tundra searching for the smell
of humans. After three days, six men were found in an abandoned hangar. They
surrendered peacefully. After some forceful interrogation, one of them broke
down and led to the place where they had hidden their bombs.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The civilian workers
returned. The Russian ship moved out of U.S. territory into international
waters. It still remained in the vicinity of Shemya.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">There was a MARS station
on Shemya where any of the men who possessed an amateur radio license could
operate within the limits of his license. Some of the men had licenses which
only allowed them to use Morse code, not voice. The majority of amateur radio
operators in Russia use only Morse code because transmitters for code are
fairly simple and cheap to build.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">There was one Russian
amateur station which contacted them frequently which had an exceptionally
strong signal. It was determined that it was located on the Russian ship
lurking in international water off Shemya. One of the “hams” suggested to an
officer that the same radio might be contacting someone on the Island on
frequencies not available to “hams.” The officer recognized this as an
excellent suggestion. He sent it up the chain of command. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">For several days,
investigators searched radio wave bands assigned to the Russian police, the
Russian Army and Navy. A strong signal was discovered communicating with an
equally strong signal which could have been coming from some place on Shemya.
The messages were encrypted.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">A team with direction
finding equipment was sent out from Elmendorf AFB. The very first night they
were able to locate a contract worker transmitting from inside one of the
buildings under construction.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">They were also able to
pinpoint the location of the ship. They found what frequency the ship was using
to send messages back to its base and the time they were broadcasting.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The next night one of the huge radars, which
fried birds flying past, focused its antenna on the ship. As soon as the ship
began its transmission the radar was turned on.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“I’ll guarantee you its
transmitter as well as anything electronic on that ship is fried!”</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The morning after that,
the Russian ship headed back toward Kamchatka and friendlier waters.</span></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-10220507402957811752017-08-28T17:12:00.002-07:002017-08-28T17:12:36.146-07:00ICE DREAMS - CHAPTER EIGHT<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">I will be posting one chapter per week of my latest book, ICE DREAMS. Please note that the numerical chapters are autobiographical. The alphabetical chapters are pure fiction.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">By
July 3 I was moved into my room in the trick barracks. I cleaned before moving
in. Then I arranged all my things neatly in the room. I still had to bring my
hot plate, coffee pot and curtains from my former room, but it was time to get
ready to go to work. After I got off work, I brought those items to the new
room before going to sleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
had completed 185 days of my overseas tour. I had 181 days to go. It seemed
like I had always been on Shemya and that it was forever before I would be allowed
to leave. I was midway through my tour; I had made it “over the hump.” The rest
of the time should seem like rolling down a mountain, but it didn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">For
the first time, I began to experience homesickness in gut-wrenching pangs. I
had a baby son that I had never seen. So far, I hadn’t even received any
pictures of him. I also had a baby sister I had never seen. I worried about how
my mother was doing. Childbirth and taking care of a baby must be taking its
toll on her. She is frail and has had a lot of medical problems even while I
was still at home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
had received invitations to my sister Beverly’s wedding and to the reception
afterward. She was marrying Raymond Baker. The wedding would be this month and
I would miss it. Lorraine told me that they had found an apartment on Dartmouth
Road near Jim and Ruth’s place. My Grandfather and Grandmother Pritt, my Uncle
Don, and my Aunt Delania from West Virginia would be there along with a host of
other relatives, but I wouldn’t be there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
received pictures of Donna when she was three weeks old. Paul was four weeks
old when I received them. From the pictures of Donna I could judge about what
size Paul was then. Paul was still sleeping a lot during the day and then
keeping Lorraine up half the night. Reverend Wylie from Lorraine’s church and
Rev. Dr. Reed from my church both came to visit Lorraine and to see the new
baby. Lorraine’s mother was beginning to warm up toward Dr. Reed. From the
influence of the Catholic neighborhood in which she lived, and her mother who
was raised Catholic, she was uneasy about waiting until I returned to have the
baby baptized.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There
had been a powerful earthquake off Andreanorf Island in the Aleutians. There
were fears that it would cause a massive tidal wave. Marshall had heard a story
about it on the television newscast. The family all thought that I might be in
danger because of it. Lorraine wrote and asked me about it. I told her that 1.)
not all earthquakes produce tidal waves and this one had not caused a tidal
wave. 2.) Even if it had, we are a long way from Andreanorf Island. 3.) Our
barracks are located a mile from the ocean. 4.) There is a deep valley between
us and the ocean.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
weather was rainy with fog as thick as pea soup. Everywhere you went it was
muddy and sloppy. That meant more time shining our boots and washing and
ironing our fatigues. There were still planes landing and taking off, but they
had to rely on the Ground Controlled Approach man to guide them down with his
radar and other instruments.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
air strip had a control tower and a GCA shack. The man in the GCA shack had ultimate
authority over whether a plane could land. The control tower decided if and
when a plane could take off. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One
foggy afternoon, the GCA shack received a call from a military plane carrying a
USO troupe to Japan. They were supposed to have refueled at Dutch Harbor but
were denied landing because of high winds and fog. The pilot begged to be
allowed to land and refuel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Please.
It’s an eight-hour flight back to Anchorage. I have a USO troupe on-board. That
would throw their schedule all off.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Well,
I don’t think I can let you land. Regulation says that I have to be able to see
three landing lights. I only see two.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“O
come on, good buddy, you know that planes land there all the time when only one
light is visible. This is Alaska, not Chicago!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I’ll
make you a deal. The government built a brand new theater here for all these
G.I.s. All it has ever been used for is for some officer or sergeant to stand
up in front of a bunch of men and give them a class or a bawling out. There has
never been a USO show here. They hardly ever send movies out here to us. Tell
that USO troupe if they’ll put on a show, you can land and gas up.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">A
few minutes later the pilot radioed that the troupe had agreed to put on a
show, but they had to be back on board the plane two hours after it landed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">A
thousand details had to be ironed out in the hour before the plane was
scheduled to land. Buses were sent to the air terminal. The theater was opened
and heated. Food for the troupe after the show was prepared in the mess hall.
Officers to escort the troupe assembled at the terminal. News of the USO show
went like wild fire to all the barracks buildings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
heard a plane land. A half hour later buses driven by Filipino drivers were
coming down the road which went through the barracks area. The drivers had
taken off before the officer escorts could board the buses. With horns blaring
and the interior lights on so we could see that most of the passengers were
young ladies the buses came slowly down through the barracks’ area. Soon each
bus was being escorted by a crowd of yelling, shouting, excited men. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
theater was filled to capacity. It was hard to believe that anyone was working,
but some unlucky “trick” was on duty. The USO show started, as all USO shows
begin, with a half dozen or more beautiful, barefoot young women dressed in
grass skirts, bright colored halters, and flowers in their hair carrying a
handful of leis. They would come to a man in the audience, put a lei around his
neck, and plant a kiss on his cheek or forehead. A noisy group of men came
surging down the aisles toward the young women. Several of the girls were
frightened and ran out the side exit door only to find their bare feet in icy
mud and their bare skin whipped by chilling wind. They ran back inside. Order
was restored and the show went on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">At
first, the acts were perfunctory, reflecting the impatience of the troupe to
fulfill an obligatory performance, return to the plane, and be on their way.
Then they began to sense how enthusiastically the men laughed at the lamest
jokes, loudly applauded even half-hearted musical pieces. At that point the
troupe began to pour their hearts into their performances. They willingly
returned for encores and extra songs and routines. The show continued well past
the usual length of their shows. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Afterwards
whenever I watched a Bob Hope USO show on television, my eyes filled with tears
and my mind brought up memories of that unscheduled USO show on Shemya Island.
I recalled how much it meant to hundreds of lonely soldiers and airmen, and
what a boost in spirits it was for me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Sometimes
my dual volunteer duties at the radio station and as trick mailman became a
heavy load. On one of my breaks in July, I put in twelve hours at the radio
that night, ate breakfast and found a huge pile of mail in the mail room for
men who had already rotated off the Island. It all had to be re-addressed with
their new address. It took me two and a half hours of steady work to finish that
pile of mail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One
of the exceptions were heavy catalogs. We sent a change of address card to the
sender and either gave the catalog to someone who wanted it or tossed it in the
trash. Frederick’s of Hollywood catalogs were always in demand. That day one of
the catalogs was a Sears catalog. I kept that for myself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
was discussing furniture with Lorraine in our letters. I hoped that we would be
in a position to buy some furniture when I returned. I would cut out a picture
of the item of furniture that I liked and enclose it with the letter or I would
tear out a page and circle the item. I already had a Montgomery Ward’s catalog
that I had been cutting and tearing. Now I could do the same with the Sears
catalog.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">A
week after I received the pictures of Donna, I received the first pictures of
Paul. He looked very alert and I decided that he must be very intelligent. A
week or so later I received some pictures of the two babies lying together on a
bed. I couldn't tell from the pictures if they were taken at my parents’ house
or at Lorraine’s parents’ house. I felt good about the fact that I could tell
which one was Paul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
day that I received the first pictures of Paul, I had just come in from working
nine hours. I had four loads of wash that I absolutely had to do before I could
lay down to sleep. I just couldn’t tear myself away from staring at those
pictures. My mind was racing a million miles a minute.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
wrote a number of times with proposed budgets. I remember one that I made up
that looked pretty good until I realized that in it I had not allowed anything
for food for Lorraine or formula and diaper service for the baby. Before she
quit work, Lorraine had managed to put $325 in the bank. Now that she wasn’t
working, she had been forced to withdraw money from savings more than a few
times.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorraine
began writing about going back to work when she was able to do so and if her
mother would take care of the baby while she was at work. She asked me if that
would be all right with me. I told her that I wasn’t crazy about her going to
work now that we had a baby. On the other hand, I wouldn’t forbid her. Again,
what a jerk I was. My repeated letters about budgets and how tight it was going
to be were almost forcing her to decide to go to work. I was only 22 and she
was still 19. That was awfully young to be facing grown up decisions and
challenges.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There
were a lot of abandoned buildings, shacks, and Quonset huts on the Island left
over from World War II, which had ended fifteen years before the year I was
there. Shemya was probably the largest scrap yard in the world. Thousands of
vehicles, airplanes, rifles, machine guns, artillery pieces, ammunition, bombs,
machinery, tools, etc. were dumped into the ocean offshore of Shemya Island. It
would have been too expensive to fly it back to the continental United States,
and it wasn’t feasible to ferry it out to ships. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
Base Exchange sold pizza, hamburgers, beer and soda at a sort of soda fountain
affair. Most of the men would bring the food back to the barracks. Only the
officers were allowed to drink liquor or wine. Some of the men had the idea to
create an unofficial Enlisted Men’s Club in one of the abandoned huts. They
spent a lot of time and effort carrying tables and chairs to this hut,
decorating its walls with pin-ups and a couple dart boards. They even managed
to construct a bar. They stocked it with
beer and someone was able to get bottles of various whiskey, gin, vodka, etc.
There were a radio and a recorder for music and some decks of cards. For about
a month or more they had their own rowdy house tavern. Then their hideaway was
discovered. It was burned down with their hooch still in it. No one was
punished, but that was punishment enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
don’t know where it came from, but one of the trick barracks had a pet dog. It
was a hound mixture and looked pretty ragged. They had a name for it, and they
brought it scraps from the mess hall. Before winter it disappeared as
mysteriously as it had appeared. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
Japanese and Filipino mess crews lived in separate buildings. There was no love
lost between them. One night there was a big fight between all the men in each
building. It went on for a couple hours. I don’t know who broke it up. I know
our medics were called upon to treat some of the worst injuries. The next
morning the mess crew on duty all had bandages on their hands or arms or neck
and face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There
was an active program at the chapel. Because we were on shift work, it wasn’t
always possible to attend the Sunday morning worship service. Often there was a
Sunday evening service which would be singing hymns and Gospel songs, reading
the Scriptures, and a time of prayer. There occasionally were attempts to have
a midweek Bible study. They were not steady though.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Back
home, my sister was married in the Inverness Presbyterian Church on July 24. My
uncle drove my grandparents and his wife to Baltimore from West Virginia. My
grandad had him stop at Lorraine’s parents’ house before they went to my
parents’ house. Lorraine’s grandparents lived on the first floor. Lorraine and
her parents lived on the second and third floor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Grandad
Pritt, age 76, climbed the very steep steps to the second floor and sat down in the
living room. He wanted to see and hold his first great-grandson. Lorraine said
that he just sat there holding Paul, looking at him, talking so softly to the
baby that no one else could hear what he was saying. She said he had the
biggest smile on his face and tears in his eyes. After about fifteen minutes he
handed Paul back to her, thanked her, and said they had better go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
I was eight years old, the same four people drove from West Virginia to the
housing project where we were living in Baltimore. It was just after the War
and bicycles were just beginning to be made. They were not yet in the stores.
My Grandad and Uncle Don decided that I needed a bicycle. They found an old one
made before the War. They sanded and painted it royal blue. It looked like a
new bicycle. When they drove up to Baltimore to see us, that bicycle was
strapped onto the trunk of the car. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-57408977979271645472017-08-22T15:35:00.000-07:002017-08-22T15:35:48.509-07:00ICE DREAMS - CHAPTER SEVEN<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">I will be posting one chapter per week of my latest book, ICE DREAMS. Please note that the numerical chapters are autobiographical. The alphabetical chapters are pure fiction.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">By
the end of May, the warm summer temperatures were taking hold. By warm, I mean
daytime highs in the fifties and nighttime lows barely above freezing. With
them they brought fog as thick as soup. Fog made walking or driving on the
Island treacherous. You couldn’t see six feet in front of you at times. This
made it impossible for planes to land, which meant also that mail became
irregular. Lorraine told me about my new sister being born on May 4. The letter
in which she told me the news didn’t arrive until May 15. My new sister was
named Donna Delania. The name was derived from my father’s only brother,
Donald, and his wife, Delania.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">We
had two noteworthy visitors at the end of May. The first was the Air Force
General who was Commander of Air Force Security Service to which all of us
(except the Army personnel) were assigned. We enlisted men saw little of him,
but we had to do a lot of extra work to make the Black Pearl look like a
spit-shined boot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">After
the General left, we had a more noxious visitor – a large, very dead, sperm
whale washed up on the beach. While it rotted away, its putrid smell was wafted
by the wind across the Island. Those who went near enough to take pictures did
not stay very long.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
was thinking more and more about going into the ministry. While I was on Shemya
and thinking about it, the Air Force issued a regulation which, in essence
said, that if I completed my overseas tour and had fulfilled three years of my
four year enlistment contract and had the endorsement of my denomination as a
candidate for the ministry that I could be discharged in time to begin the Fall
semester of seminary in 1961. That was really good news to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
the barracks there were three other men who were committed Christians, attended
chapel, studied the Bible, and enjoyed getting together sometimes to talk about
the Lord and their faith experiences. When I first arrived on Shemya the
chaplain was a Methodist. He came once a month, held a Sunday worship service,
stayed for several days, then left. The other Sundays, Master Sergeant Malcolm
Donahoo preached and led worship at the chapel.
In June, the Methodist chaplain was to be replaced by a Cumberland
Presbyterian chaplain. We heard that he would be stationed permanently on
Shemya.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One
of the three men was having a real emotional and spiritual crisis and, for a
while, I spent a lot of time talking with him about it. Before he was sent to
Shemya, he was involved in a romantic relationship with a girl who was
instrumental in bringing him to a saving knowledge of Christ. As the time of
his departure for Shemya neared, their relationship became more intense and
more intimate until finally it resulted in having sex.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">For
the first four months he was on the Island, she wrote to him every day. Then
for two weeks she didn’t write at all. He kept writing to her. When she began
writing again, it was only once or twice a week and she was very cool in what
she wrote. He was emotionally distraught over the sudden change in their
relationship. Spiritually he was filled with guilt over having sex with her.
She had been a virgin and he used the fact that he was going to be away for a
year and lonely for her to coax her into doing it. Now he felt that God was
punishing him and he was even doubting his salvation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
tried to guide him with various Scriptures. I told him to confess his sin to
God, ask forgiveness, then to write to the girl, tell her that he had asked
God’s forgiveness and he was asking for her forgiveness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Before
I enlisted in the Air Force, I was being discipled and mentored by an
Englishman, Dr. Verna Wright, who was doing graduate work in rheumatology at
John Hopkins Hospital. He said repeatedly, “Principles, principles, principles,
Bro!” One of the principles was that in personal evangelism and personal
counseling there should always be a man working with another man or a woman
counseling with another woman and never a man with a woman or vice versa.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">It
also made me think that chaplains ought to be enlisted men, living in the
barracks. The chaplain was far more qualified to help this young man than I
was. Being an officer raises a barrier to being able to talk to an enlisted man
the way this man opened up to me. The chaplain was also not accessible. We
never saw him except at chapel services.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Men
would occasionally come into the radio station with reel-to-reel recorders.
They would use the station’s records and turntables to record a reel of music
by their favorite artists. Whatever records they played and recorded went out
over the air as part of the broadcast. They would do this after midnight when
the DJ had six or seven hours to play or say whatever he wanted. When they
finished, I would ask them to let me make a tape to send home. I would either
make a tape of me broadcasting or I would play a program that wasn’t scheduled
from the records AFRS sent to us. While the program was being broadcast, I
could talk to Lorraine on a mailable one-hour tape. The BX sold these tapes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
BX was running out of many things. One of these was Brillo pads which were a
vital necessity for cleaning the floor before inspections. I asked Lorraine to
please send some Brillo pads and also some Air Mail stationery. The BX was also
out of stationery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One
day when I was at lunch in the mess hall, I hung up my parka on the row of
hooks on the wall by the door. When I was ready to leave, my parka was gone. I
was frantic. If you lost a parka, the Air Force took several hundred dollars
from your pay in installments for replacing the parka. They were special made
with the dog fur hoods. Several days later, the parka appeared on the floor of
my room like someone had slung it in the room from the doorway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
one of her letters in the second half of May, Lorraine mentioned having a lot
more energy. That should have alerted me that the birth of our baby was coming
soon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
mail was coming only once or twice a week and outgoing mail was only going out
about once a week. Since I was getting mail so infrequently, my imagination ran
wild about what could have happened or gone wrong. I was sure the baby must
have come by the first of June, but I heard nothing. Then someone told me that
they heard that Western Union was going on strike. I didn’t know if the birth
notifications had to go by Western Union or not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">One
night our trick was on break and we were to see a movie that had been sent out
by Anchorage. We all crowded into a room, sitting on the floor. The man running
the projector said, “You know how they have short subjects before the feature
film in the movies? Tonight, I have a short subject to show that I think you’ll
like.” When the film began, it was soon apparent that it was a “dirty movie”,
pornographic. I wanted to get out of there. Men were crowded all around me.
Then someone opened the door and switched on the lights. “Airman Pritt, you are
wanted in the Orderly Room.” When I reached the Orderly Room, the sergeant on
duty said, “Congratulations, Pritt!” and handed me the following message from
off the teletype:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“A/2c
PRITT – Telegram received from Red Cross at Elmendorf 1325, 6 June.
Congratulations to Service Man. Wife delivered baby boy, Paul Troy, 7 1/2 pounds,
June 6, both fine. From Baltimore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">After
I received the message I was so nervous I could hardly put the blue “It’s A
Boy” stickers on the cigars.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There
were a million questions I wanted to ask. How long was the labor? What color
hair does the baby have or is he bald? A week or more later, my sister wrote
and said that she and my parents visited Lorraine in the hospital the next day.
When they were ready to leave, they said that they would go by the nursery to
see the baby on their way out. Lorraine said, “I’ll go with you.” She climbed
out of bed, put on her robe and slippers, and walked down to the Nursery with
them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorraine’s
letters which followed had a lot more details about the baby. When she went
into labor, Lorraine and her mother went to the hospital in a taxicab. Jim, the
husband of Lorraine’s sister, took Lorraine and baby Paul home from the
hospital. Lorraine’s sister, Ruth, came to stay several days when Lorraine and
the baby came home. She showed Lorraine how to handle the baby, how to wash
him, how to change his diaper. He would flail with his fists clenched. Ruth
nicknamed him “Joe Palooka” and called him by that name until he started
school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">At
first Lorraine was breast feeding Paul, but he always seemed hungry and was not
gaining weight as he should so the doctor told Lorraine to stop the breast
feeding and start feeding him formula. After she made the change, he started
gaining weight at the normal rate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
pediatrician came to the house. Paul had early developed a habit of peeing when
he was being changed. He had peed on the curtain and on a chair. The first time
the pediatrician came to the house Lorraine thought, “My goodness, he wears
shabby clothes for a doctor.” While he was examining Paul, when he took off his
diaper, Paul shot a stream of pee onto the doctor’s sport jacket.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorraine’s
mother had been ill for a month before he was born. She was feeling some
better, but was not back to full strength. After he was born, she went out and
bought a baby carriage that converted into a stroller and into a car seat. The
sidewalk came up to the front of their house. There was a bench against the
house where they sat on sunny days. Now Paul could take afternoon naps outside while
they sat on the bench.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
mail situation took a strange turn in June. Northwest Orient Airlines began
bringing our mail three times a week. Reeves Aleutian Airlines still brought it
once a week. But Northwest was only bringing Air Mail. One day in late June
Reeves brought 2 ½ tons of mail. We had not been receiving newspapers and
magazines. In that delivery there were magazines and newspapers as much as a
month old and every week in between.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
had been living in a barracks with men from all the tricks and some men who
worked only days unless they were called out at night. Master Sergeant Donahoo
was one such person. I was notified that on 1,2, or 3 July I would be moving
into my trick’s barracks. That was going to be a major job. I would have to
clean the new room, then carry my gear from the barracks where I had been
living to the trick barracks. It was a walk of probably three city blocks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
was still enrolled in the Greek course and was making slow progress. I was also
taking a course in Air Force Personnel Management by correspondence. In
addition I was reading an impressive list of literary books, as well as
theology books, and daily Bible reading. In addition to “Arizona Highways,” I
was subscribed to “Saturday Review”, “Harper’s”, and “The Sword of the Lord.”
The latter contained several sermons in each issue, many by famous preachers of
bygone years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorraine
was doing very well with our savings account. She had accumulated $325 before
she quit work. When she sent me the baby’s birth certificate, I applied for an
increase to the quarters allowance. That would increase the quarters allowance
by $40/month. She obviously had her hands full caring for our newborn baby, but
she managed to write long letters telling all the details of what he was doing.
One time she said that the baby was smiling while she was writing to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">David
Brannon is the man who sat with me in the snack bar at McCord AFB and played
“Georgia on my mind” on the jukebox over and over. He came in the barracks one
evening at the end of June. He had a peculiar smile on his face. “It is the
second wedding anniversary of Vanda and I. We have been strolling on the beach
together for the longest time. We were talking and laughing, acting silly. I
really hated it when I had to say goodbye, but it was starting to get dark.”
All the time he had that peculiar smile on his face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
the weather was nice and we were on break, I sometimes borrowed Jon Boettner’s
bicycle and rode around on the roads on the Island. It was very generous of him
to let me use it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The
Island was obviously going to be quite different for the men who would follow
after us. The theater was almost complete and a USO show was scheduled in a
couple months. They had already opened a four-lane bowling alley. On the other
end of Shemya they were building a large barracks building which would contain
the mess hall, orderly room, offices, and chapel all in that one building. One
benefit we have they will lose. At the present our mess hall is run by Northwest
Airlines. The Japanese and Filipino mess crews are contracted by the Airlines.
We do not have KP duty. In the new barracks building, there will be Air Force
cooks and there will be KP duty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">My
sister, Beverly, seems happy and excited about her baby sister and about our
baby. She is going to be married in July, so she may be thinking that someday
in the not too distant future she will have babies of her own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
told Lorraine in every letter that I was standing beside her supporting her in
my thoughts and prayers and with my love during these first few months with a
new baby. I said I knew how weary she must feel having to get up during the
night several times, changing diapers almost every hour, wondering why he was
crying this time, wondering if you were doing things right. I believed what I
was writing to her, but I really was a jerk. I would read things in books or
magazines. Then I would contradict what the doctor told her or what others told
her. I would complain if she didn’t write to me every day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
told her she should continue breast feeding because babies needed things that
were in breast milk that couldn’t be duplicated in a formula. When she said
something about buying cleansing cream for when she changed Paul’s diaper I
said she should use soap and water and if it caused a rash, that was good
because his skin would adapt to soap. When she mentioned wanting her figure to
go back in shape, I told her to start doing sit-ups until she could do one
hundred. When the doctor said to give the baby vitamins, I told her only to
give him cod liver oil, that if she gave him vitamins his body would not be
learning to extract vitamins from food.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">At
the same time, as though she could walk the six blocks to Broadway (where the
stores and post office were), I was telling her things to buy and send to me –
a three ring notebook with filler paper, for instance. Like I said, in
hindsight, I was a real jerk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
the latter part of June we had a visitor who might have been as unwelcome as
our dead sperm whale – a DENTIST. He came out on a plane with the chaplain and
held his own kind of services. Every military man stationed on Shemya had to
attend. He gave each of us a thorough exam. We didn’t get a toothbrush. Anyone
who had a loose or broken filling or a cavity had to sit in the chair while he
made repairs. I commend him for his integrity and devotion to duty. He worked
twelve or fifteen hours a day and stayed on the Island until he had seen and
attended to every man. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-37962832416855308262017-08-14T16:16:00.000-07:002017-08-14T16:16:11.829-07:00ICE DREAMS - CHAPTER C<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">I will be posting one chapter per week of my latest book, ICE DREAMS. Please note that the numerical chapters are autobiographical. The alphabetical chapters are pure fiction.</span></i></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">May 1960 began with the
U-2 incidents followed by threats of war. Toward the end of May, I was walking
along the beach. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining on the ocean and
our Island. The water was calm and waves were lapping gently against the shore.
The sky was blue with white puffy clouds. I hadn’t seen many days like this in
Alaska. I guessed that the tundra would be greening soon if it wasn’t already.
The birds were flying overhead. Where did they come from and where were they going?
At least on this side of the Island they wouldn’t be burned to a crisp if the
radars were turned on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I kept looking up into the
sky and out over the ocean. I should have been watching where I was going. I
tripped over something solid on the beach and pitched head forward. I was
knocked out - for how long I don’t know. When I came to, I was being carried on
a litter by two men of the cave dwellers. Tatyana was walking alongside the
litter. When I came to, I thought in my mind that she said to me, “I’m so glad
that I found you, but not like this. Starshij needs to see you on an urgent
matter.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When we reached the cave
entrance, the men carried me down the slope into the great room. An elderly man
came into the room carrying a bag. He handed a little leather pouch to Tatyana
and snapped his fingers. One of the men took off my boots. When he removed the
left boot, I screwed up my lips and frowned in pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The old man grunted, then
went around to my left foot. He ran his hand up and down my leg, then grunted again.
He pulled a jar out of his bag and smeared some dark ointment around my foot
where the ankles are. He took out a packet of gauze bandage and wrapped the
strip around my ankle and then tied it off just like I had seen the medical corpsman
do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Tatyana had returned with
a cup. She gave it to me and communicated, “Drink all of it. It’s your
medicine.” I drank the cup of hot herbal tea. It had a peculiar, but not
unpleasant taste. Soon, I relaxed, was drowsy, and dozed off to sleep. I don’t
know how long I slept. When I awoke, the old man was removing the gauze from my
ankle. He motioned to me to put my socks and boots back on. There was no pain
in my ankle at all. I thanked him profusely. Although he didn’t know English, I
think that he understood me. He smiled and left the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Starshij came into the
room after I had put my boots on. He brought Gretchen, our English interpreter with
him..<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I have asked Gretchen’s
assistance because we have a matter that is urgent and important to discuss. I
don’t want either of us to misunderstand because of our language differences.
Our community is in danger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Yesterday, some Russians
came ashore near our cave entrance and came down into our cave without an
invitation. They demanded to see me. There must be someone who has told them
all about us. However it was they obtained their information, they know that
our forefathers were Cossacks who fought for the Czar in the Russian Revolution.
They know that our people assisted the American forces stationed here during
World War II. They know that there are now American forces on this Island. In
fact, they know of our relationship to you. They assume that the U.S.
military’s purposes here are directed against the Soviet Union and that we are
helping you just as we helped American forces fifteen years ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“They left ten knapsacks
containing C-4 explosives with elaborate detonator wiring. They have demanded
that one week from today we have all of these planted where they will blow up
the Operations Building, the radar shack, the Comm Center, the huge radars, and
the airport control tower. They will detonate them from a ship anchored several
miles away from here. If they see these targets explode, they will leave us
alone. If they don’t see these targets blow up or if they see the explosives
blow up harmlessly on the tundra, they will send some men onto the Island who
will toss explosives down the tunnel and blow our cave complex to smithareens.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“What do you want me to
do?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I want you to go to your
officers. Make them aware of the threat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“We cannot remain in our
cave because they could do what they threatened at any time. We are American
citizens since we and all of our parents were born on Shemya Island. None of us
have papers, but someone in government can fix that. I would like for them to
move us to some place in Alaska where we will be safe and can rebuild our
community. I want their demolition experts to remove these knapsacks!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Okay, Starshij. I’ll
relay your message. I hope they believe me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Do you want to take one
of the knapsacks with you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“N-o-o-o thanks! I’ll do
the best that I can. Do I have your permission to bring one or more military
personnel back here with me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Yes, but please try to
protect us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When I returned to the
barracks/mess hall area it was lunch time. I went in and filled my tray and got
some coffee. As soon as I had eaten, I went to the Orderly Room. I told the
First Sergeant that I had to see our Commanding Officer immediately on a matter
that involved the security of the base. He looked at me quizzically.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Suppose you tell me
first.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I don’t mind if you are
present when I talk to the Commanding Officer, but I don’t want to risk that
you might decide not to let me see him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When I was taken into the
office, I saluted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Airman, what do you have
to tell me that is so urgent?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Sir, please hear me out
even if this is hard to believe at first. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“There are people who have
been living on this Island for several generations or more.” I told him how
their forefathers came to Shemya and about the cave in which they dwell. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“During the Second World
War, they helped the American forces stationed here in many ways. Before that,
they helped rescue our soldiers and marines who were casualties in the battles
on Attu. They have several letters of appreciation from military commanders.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“All of them and all of
their parents were born on Shemya. That should make them American citizens. A
couple days ago, some Russians dressed in black rubber suits landed on the
shore near their cave. The Russians brought ten knapsacks filled with C-4
explosive. The explosives are wired to be detonated remotely from a ship that
will be anchored several miles away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“The Russians demanded
that the cave-dwellers (as I call them) plant these knapsacks close to the
Operations Center, the Comm shack, the radar building, the large radar
antennas, the mess hall, and the airport control tower. They told them that if
they did not see these places blown up the night they trigger the explosives,
if for instance they were just placed out on the tundra where they would do no
damage, or if they notified the American authorities of what they planned,
these men would come back and throw explosives into the cave and wipe out their
community.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“They want the government
to give them documentation of their citizenship and allow them to settle
someplace on the Alaskan mainland where they would be safer from Russian
retaliation than they would be by moving to another island. They want military
demolition personnel to take charge of the ten knapsacks. They must move out of
the cave before the Russians can carry out their threat of blowing it up. There are fifty-two people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Their leader thinks there
is reason to believe they have a traitor in their group who has been giving
information about Shemya to the Russians.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Airman, there are going
to be a lot of questions you will have to answer about your association with
these “cave-dwellers” as you call them. I am temporarily suspending your
clearance until those questions are satisfactorily answered. However, giving
you the benefit of my doubts, let us go to the cave and meet with the man you
say is their leader.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The Commanding Officer,
CPT Goetz, followed me as I led him out across the tundra to the beach and then
to the cave’s entrance. We descended to the cave’s great room. There was tumult
inside the cave. Starshij was lying on the floor, his head bloodied. People
were milling about. Some of the women had their hands over their heads wailing.
I looked for Gretchen, Starshij’s interpreter. I didn’t see her. I saw Tatyana
and beckoned to her. She shook her head. I asked her by thought, “What
happened? Where is Gretchen?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Gretchen and Ilya took
two of the knapsacks and fled after Ilya hit Starshij over the head with a
whale bone. Starshij tried to stop Ilya and said, ‘So you are the traitor.’
Gretchen replied, ‘You are the traitor wanting to save the Americans who are
spying on our Russian brothers.’ Then both Ilya and Gretchen fled, each of them
carrying a knapsack with them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Captain Goetz said,
“Great! We have two Communist collaborators running around this base with
enough C-4 to blow up Operations and some other sensitive target. Have eight of
their men to follow us out of the cave carrying the remaining eight knapsacks
with them. We will put them down on the rocks at the end of the runway. They
won’t hurt anything if they blow up there. I’ll post a guard to watch them day
and night through binoculars at a safe distance.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The men followed us to the
end of the runway and placed the C-4 packs between the rocks. Captain Goetz
thanked them, though they couldn’t understand him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Sir, the lives of all the
people in that cave are now in danger. If Ilya and Gretchen contact the Russians,
those knapsacks could be triggered at any time. I feel sure that no matter what
the Russians tell Ilya to do with the knapsacks, he will throw one of them into
the cave and kill all the others whom he believes collaborate with the
Americans. Let me go back and lead the rest of them out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“All right, Airman. Take
them to the makeshift barracks until we decide what to do with them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I returned to the cave,
found Tatyana, and communicated to her that it was very important that everyone
leave the cave and take with them only what they could carry. I was certain
that the Russians would blow up the cave. No one could know when they would do
it, so they must leave now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Two of the men carried
Starshij on a litter. He was not conscious. I didn’t know if that was caused by
the blow to his head or the effects of the medicine man’s herbal tea. The people
obeyed Tatyana’s instructions. There were women carrying babies. Others had
clothes in bundles on their back. One of the men filled a wheelbarrow with
tools. Tatyana and I led the group. She knew her way across the tundra even
though it was dark. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The makeshift barracks no
longer had any military residents. The stoves had been left in place, but there
were no cots. However, soon after we arrived, a truck pulled up with fifty
racks, mattresses, pillows, blankets, and bed linens. The truck driver told me
to report to the Orderly Room. The First Sergeant and CPT Goetz were waiting
for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“I have been on the phone
to Elmendorf for almost an hour. They have a bomb squad on its way. Also on
their way out here are an agent from the CID and another from the FBI. They
will initially question you and the people here. Then you and the people will
be sent to Elmendorf for further questioning. Go to your barracks and get some
sleep, you will have a busy day tomorrow. As soon as you have breakfast come
back here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The next morning, when I
entered the Orderly Room, I could tell something had gone wrong. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“The bomb squad arrived,
but the eight knapsacks we put at the end of the runway are MISSING! The guards
were found bound and gagged; their rifles and ammunition are missing. We have
men searching all around the Operations Building, the radar building, the Comm
center, the airport control tower. No one has yet found any of the ten
knapsacks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Sir, has anyone looked on
the roofs? Someone with a strong arm could stand outside the fences around
those buildings and toss the knapsack onto the roof.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“First Sergeant have the
men check the roofs of those buildings. As soon as anyone finds a knapsack,
call us here and we’ll send the bomb squad to them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">It turned out that my guess
was right. Eventually nine knapsacks were found. I was sure the tenth was
inside the cave. The nine were disarmed by the bomb squad. Next morning there
was a tremendous explosion that rocked every building on the Island. The cave
was destroyed. The earth on top of it sank down leaving a depression ten feet
deep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The cave people and I were
flown to Elmendorf Air Force Base. They were temporarily housed in some old
barracks while all of us were being questioned. I told them about coming to
Elmendorf with Tatyana, about the “friend” who met us at the airport and let us
sleep overnight at his house. I was able to show them his house. He was taken
away by the FBI for questioning. The man whose address in Takoma was used was
also picked up by the FBI for questioning. With Gretchen writing the letters
for Tatyana, I could see the possibility that Gretchen was using the letters to
supply information using an extra sheet enclosed with Tatyana’s letter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">The questioning was an
investigator’s nightmare. The only interpreter of their language into English
was Gretchen and she was one of the two spies for the Russians. Also, her
whereabouts were unknown. They had to rely on Tatyana and I. They would ask
someone a question, Tatyana would understand it from my mind and would ask the
question in their language. Their language truly was unique. It began as the
Kazakh language, picked up Russian words, then words and expressions from
native people in northern Siberia as well as words from the Alaskan native
people with whom they traded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When a person answered the
question, I understood the answer from Tatyana and relayed it to the
investigator in English.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Meanwhile, someone heard
of their plight and it was carried in a television news story on the Anchorage
television station with pictures of poor, displaced people who had only the
clothes on their backs being housed in a couple of old, run-down barracks.
National news picked it up. Veterans who had been stationed on Shemya in World
War 2 remembered how these people had helped them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Soon, bureaucrats were
working under pressure from above to issue birth certificates to each of them.
The Agriculture Department sent a team of men to find a suitable area for them
to start a new community. Trailers that had been purchased by FEMA for disaster
use were moved onto this territory. The Interior Department designated it the
Shemyites Reservation so that no one else could settle or hunt and fish on that
land. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I was cleared of
wrongdoing, given my clearance back, and was sent back to Shemya. Before I left
Tatyana gave me a kiss.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Tell your wife she found
a wonderful man.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4160541014943971067.post-55085569487033448482017-08-07T15:06:00.001-07:002017-08-07T15:06:20.114-07:00ICE DREAMS - CHAPTER B<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt;">I will be posting one chapter per week of my latest book, ICE DREAMS. Please note that the numerical chapters are autobiographical. The alphabetical chapters are pure fiction. </span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
early April, I became very ill with a sore throat and fever. The medic told me
to gargle with warm salt water, and take aspirin every four hours. He gave me a
bottle of the coveted terpinhydrate with codeine. Still I did not get better.
At night, I was running fevers. I had nightmares and fantastic dreams. One
night, Tatyana came to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Hurry.
Get your Class A uniform and shoes and carry them with you. Starshiy has an
assignment for you. Follow me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In
my condition, wearing a fatigue uniform and carrying a duffel bag with shoes,
overcoat, Class A jacket, trousers, and dress shirt in the cold night air was a
gold embossed invitation for pneumonia. I struggled to keep up with her as she
walked confidently across the tundra. We came to the cave entrance and walked,
bent low, down the steep incline. By then I was dragging my duffel bag behind
me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Starshij
greeted me mentally as we entered the room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Greetings,
Airman. I understand that you have been ill. Sit down here. we have some
medicine that will bring your illness to a speedy end. Let me have that duffel
bag.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
warily handed him my duffel, afraid he would read my thoughts, “What if they
keep it? The Air Force would take from my pay all the money I have allotted to
Lorraine to reimburse replacing my Class A uniform.” He took my duffel bag and
came back with a cup of tea. I drank the tea greedily; the walk from makeshift
barracks to the cave had made me weak. My sore throat was hurting me big time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Soon
after I drank the tea, I fell asleep. I did not have any nightmares or dreams.
I slept more soundly than I had since coming to Alaska. I don’t know how long I
slept. I would be on the first day of Break so my absence would not be noticed
for the next two days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">When
I awoke, Starshij was standing beside me holding my Class A uniform and dress
shoes. They looked like they had just come back from the dry cleaners. My dress
shoes had a brilliant shine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“You
and Tatyana will get on the Northwest flight leaving this morning for
Anchorage. Everything has been arranged. I’ll give you money for your
assignment. When you arrive in Anchorage there will be a friend of ours waiting
for you. It will be time for supper. He will take you both to the Enlisted
Men’s Club. Anyone you meet, you will introduce Tatyana as your sister who is
visiting from Tacoma, Washington.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“The
purpose of the trip is for Tatyana to meet a young man whom she likes, whom she
can continue a relationship with by mail and with maybe a subsequent visit
months from now. She won’t leave the Club, but you make yourself scarce if
there is a young man with whomshe seems
to be connecting. About midnight, our friend will pick you up at the Club, and
take you to his home. The next morning, he will see to it that you are on the
Reeves flight coming back to Shemya that day.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
was amazed by everything that was happening. I no longer had my sore throat. No
one batted an eye when we got on the Northwest flight or the Reeves flight
coming back. No one asked who I was or what unit I belonged to or who Tatyana
was when we went into the Club. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Tatyana
knew all that was riding on this two-day trip. She had about six hours to meet
a young man who would love and cherish her for the rest of her life. Tatyana
was an orphan. If she did meet an ideal young man, and she married him, she
would have to leave the community and would never be able to return. For now,
how would she overcome the language barrier?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Despite
my misgivings, Tatyana carried it off. A couple hours after we arrived at the
Club, Tatyana was sitting at a table, stroking the hand of the most bashful
young man I’ve ever seen. They just sat there smiling and laughing. I knew she
was conversing with him in thoughts. Did he even realize it? After a couple
hours, I saw him writing on a piece of paper. Tatyana, put the paper in her
handbag. Then she took out a photo of herself, wrote on the back of it, and
then placed a lipstick kiss on the back of the photo before she gave it to him.
He blushed as red as a beet. Tatyana had batted a homerun!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">On
the plane going back to Shemya, I asked her what address she had put on the
back of the photo. She gave him the address of another “friend” in Tacoma. That
friend would forward the letters to my P.O.Box at APO 736 and I was to bring
the letters to her. One of the women, Gretchen, married a man in the community she met when he
was on a trading trip. She knows English and will translate his letters and
write Tatyana’s answer. I am to mail Tatyana’s letter to the Tacoma friend, who
in turn will mail it to the unsuspecting Airman in Anchorage. Brother! Even the
Russians don’t have a network as efficient as my friends the cave-dwellers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
don’t remember walking from the Reeves plane to the cave, if I did. The next
morning, I woke up in my bed in the make shift barracks. My sore throat was
completely gone. My Class A uniform was wadded up in the duffel bag. My fatigue
uniforms needed to be washed and ironed. (I will use the sore throat as an
excuse. That excuse will just last for today.) It is time to go to breakfast
and then to work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Did
it happen? Did I go to Anchorage and back on my Break?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Two
weeks later I received an envelope from Takoma, Washington addressed to me.
Inside was a letter for Tatyana from Bashful Boy in Anchorage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Troy Lynn Pritthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14634255205640297103noreply@blogger.com0