Many of the sixteen million WWII vets didn’t get home until 1946. However, when I returned in December 1945, my good friend, Leonard “Sonny” Straker was already back from the Pacific, thanks largely to his five Purple Hearts, (He was wounded eight times, why just five Purple hearts?). We took up where we left off, double dating the Barker twins. He liked Martha and I liked Mary Jane. They were great girls and we had dated before the war and corresponded during the war; but none of us were serious.

Sonny and I would go to The Green Lantern on Brainerd Road, drink beer and re-fight the war---the Marine Corps vs the Army Air Corps. This went on for months until we signed a truce. I conceded that the Marine Corps won the war in the Pacific and he conceded that the Air Corps won the war in Europe. He beat the Japs and I beat the Germans, but we both had a little help.

We joined the 52/20 Club where the government paid $20 week subsistence for a maximum of 52 weeks while veterans adjusted to civilian life. Some vets came home and went right to work or school. We didn’t. Sonny came up with a unique clothes-dryer rack to peddle. I tried to sell them door to door. No good. Sonny investigated the possibility of us starting a wash-a-teria. No good. I didn’t come up with anything. My brother Harold finally got home from the Pacific. He was the Executive Officer on The R.W. Herndon Destroyer Escort.

I still had the ’36 Chrysler I bought when I was 16. Cars were not manufactured during the war and were still scarce in 1946. Brother Harold and I went to an Army Surplus sale in Atlanta. He bought a 1945 Ford Jeep for $462. I got one for $448. Mine had only 9,000 miles and would run circles around Harold’s. It was cool when I painted mine Desert Sand with Chinese Red trim with “Elmo” on the front. Elmo provided transportation when I went away to college and I sold the Chrysler for three times what I paid for it in 1941.

The Jeep was fun. I never knew until years later how vulnerable Jeep’s were for turning over. Luckily, I didn’t learn the hard way because I was pretty reckless. This laid back lifestyle was fun, but most of us were struggling to decide what to do to make a living or where to go to college. It wasn’t all fun and games-but maybe it was. We played basketball, softball, went fishing, etc. but frankly I don’t know what we did for several months.

Mom and Dad never owned a home. Brother Charles had bought some property in East Ridge and offered them a free lot to build on. Dad said, “No way”. Mom said,
“Let’s try it.”

We found a contractor that said he could build a nice five room house for around $6,000. I contributed the down payment from Army savings, about $1,700 and brother Harold and I pitched in to hold cost to a minimum. We used our Jeeps to pull down trees after cutting the roots. Cinders were “liberated” from Dixie Merchandising for the drive way.

It was February and very cold. The first couple of days helping with construction, I was miserable. However, I was amazed to learn how fast you can acclimatize. We got the job done and moved in that spring. Mom and Dad lived the rest of their lives there. I lived there until I was married and my sister, Mary Evelyn and her daughter, Judy moved in when she was divorced.

One day Dad came home from work, held out his right hand and said, “You are looking at the hand that shook the hand of Estes Kefauver.” Dad was a staunch Democrat. Later I was so happy that Mon and Dad were present (although I didn’t know it) when Kefauver presented me with the “Young Man of the Year” plaque. Dad never told me he was proud of me. Wheland’s featured Dad and me in the monthly publication. He wasn’t a good communicator but I learned from my brother Charles after Dad died that he was proud of me. I didn’t communicate very well either. I wish I had talked more to Mom and Dad about all they had to do to get us through the Depression and to express my appreciation and love. I wish I had talked more to my sister and brothers, too. Who do you need to talk to..............your parents, your siblings, your teachers, preachers, neighbors, friends???? Don’t wait, do it today, you will feel good when you do.

(This is an excerpt from Bob Elmore's new book, "A Funny Thing Happened on My Way to the National Cemetery." The book is $10 in softback, $20 in hardback. Copies are available at the Bicentennial Library downtown, Wally's (on McCallie), Senior Neighbors, The Racket Club and the Brainerd Trophy Shop. All proceeds, not just profits, go to the Chattanooga Area Historical Association. For more information, call 629-1366.)