A good tale

Pat Gracey.

I can't seem to find a good beginning for this piece. I want it to contain a happy ending. Keep reading, it's in here somewhere. My true story begins in April 1917 when this nation entered into what was known as, The World War or The Great War. Due to the number of nations involved it was idealistically termed as The War To End All Wars. This conflict had begun in Europe in 1914 and the United States had hoped, unsuccessfully, to avoid becoming involved.

My grandparents, Tom and Minnie Anderson, had six sons; my mother's brothers and my uncles. Two of the eldest, Uncle Ray and Uncle John, had been inducted into the U.S. Army under a Selective Service Program enacted by President Woodrow Wilson. A younger brother, Uncle Jim, was only 16 but decided to also enlist. He was a big young man and when he added two years to his age and said he was 18, they did not question him. No birth certificates were required in those days.

The brothers never met while in the Army overseas. Uncle John was a victim of the German poisonous Mustard Gas and was picked up on the battle field as dead until someone noticed him blinking his eyes. The rest of his body was temporarily paralyzed but he did survive. Uncle Ray was in five major battles and also survived. My grandparents were sent a notice that Uncle Jim was a prisoner of war in Germany and they knew nothing more.

In the fall of 1918 my Grandmother and my mother went to see a newsreel moving picture. It was the first movie they had ever seen as films like that were rare in the small town where they lived.

The film showed a hospital ship unloading patients in a New York harbor. The camera showed a young man on a stretcher and got a fine look at the soldier's face. Grandma recognized her son and finally knew he was alive. All three sons were home again. Uncle Jim had lost a great deal of weight and suffered from malnutrition, but was otherwise all right. Uncle Ray and Uncle John came home with stories of their own.

The World War – The Great War – "The War To End All Wars" was at an end.

(History has a way of repeating itself.)

Time marches on: My grandparents and families came to California in 1921. The brothers, Ray and Jim, formed a construction business. John had married and lived in the state of New York. The rest settled in the Visalia/Exeter area and made a good living.

As the years passed the unrest in the European continent turned into what would become World War II. Since we had begun numbering our wars, we had to give the World War a Roman Numeral "one" to differentiate between World War I and World War II.

In 1943 after we'd been two years into World War II, Uncle Jim became aware of a U.S. Naval Construction Battalion (Seabees) having been formed on March 5, 1942 for the purpose of building military base facilities and airfields overseas and in the states. He told his wife that he was sure he, with his knowledge of construction, could do some good for the men serving overseas and in need of such construction. What does a wife say?

In 1943 Uncle Jim, a veteran of the former World War, went to enlist in the Seabees. The Recruiting Officer said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Anderson, according to the records, you're two years too old to enlist. Forty-three is the age limit and you're 45."

That is when Uncle Jim told the long kept secret from Uncle Sam. He said he'd lied in 1917 and said he had been 18 when he'd been only 16. Once again, Uncle Sam let him enlist and he spent two years building military facilities and air strips in the South Pacific Islands.

The young military men serving in the area enjoyed talking to the "old salty man" – a veteran of two wars. When the men sat around telling their experiences, Uncle Jim could hold his own. It made a good tale, as well.