As we progress with the Christmas season in December of 2017, we often forget the Decembers of the past. 1941, the focus of this posting, found so many American hearts filled with thoughts much more important than the parties to attend, the desserts to prepare, or the gifts under the tree. For this posting, I have edited an excerpt from the first chapter of Dad's military memoirs entitled Okie Over Europe, published in 2015 by his namesake nephew, Daniel Edmund Newland.
As we reflect on this past Christmas season 76 years ago, may we concentrate on what really matters - our family's love, our faith made known to us by the coming of God Himself in the form of a tiny, helpless baby, and His willingness to give His life, spilling His blood so we can experience the freedom of forgiveness and the peace brought only by the Precious Prince of Peace.
It was a cool, crisp December morning with
the sun peeking over the eastern horizon as the green 1937 International pickup
truck rumbled down the dirt road. Behind
the wheel was a wiry, young man with his father seated next to him. As the dust
billowed behind them, his teenage brother was wondering what future
awaited his eldest brother. A turning point in the life of Edmund Gates, Jr.
was December 18, 1941. He was en route to the Ponca City Post Office to enlist
in the Army Air Force just eleven days after the Japanese bombing of Pearl
Harbor caught his country completely unaware.
As Edmund stared out the dusty window, he
mused about the responsibilities that he would be leaving for Jess, his younger
brother, to do. Edmund had been the primary driver of the family vehicle from
the very first day the used pickup truck had been purchased by his
hearing-impaired father whose only driving experience had been with a team of
horses. Edmund knew Jess was along on this trip to step into the role of
driving his father home from Ponca City and then begin bearing even a greater
load of helping his father provide for a family who had weathered the Great
Depression. Edmund recently had transported his mother and youngest brother
along this same stretch of narrow country road for unsuccessful leukemia
treatments. The sixth-month-old beloved Baby Johnnie in this family of twelve
had died early that very year.
Edmund continued to force himself to think
reassuring thoughts as he steered the well-used truck over the ruts. As the
engine of the International purred, Edmund reflected to himself, “Lots of boys
have been drafted out of this Big Bend. Every last one of them is now in the
army. I don’t want to walk out my war.
I’d rather fight it in the air.” To an outsider looking in, it seemed
like a hasty decision on such a life-altering issue, but to Edmund hardened
physically by long hours of backbreaking work from his earliest days and
toughened mentally and emotionally by immense losses, it seemed like the only
sensible decision.
Edmund had decided before leaving his home
he wanted to serve in this new method of combat. Despite living in a remote
area of Oklahoma, he had seen a new-fangled Piper Cub fly over their farm. Just
a decade or so earlier, the Osage Indians had come into vast sums of money because
of the discovery of oil in Osage County. The Osages had retained the mineral
rights and had become a wealthy group of people. One of his neighbors, the
Grove Goad family, had a well-to-do Osage cousin who had bought a Piper Cub. When
this flying machine soared above the field where Dad was toiling in the heat,
he would lean on his hoe and stop to daydream briefly about flying. This fascination with flying fostered by the
Piper Cub’s flights over the farm coupled with his aversion to carrying a rifle
and walking out the war cemented in his mind his choice to enlist in the Army
Air Force.
After about an hour, the three of
them arrived in Ponca City. Edmund completed the enlistment paperwork around 10
a.m. He soon learned his train would not depart until 10 p.m. that evening. His
father, a descendent of hard-working Germans, answered unemotionally upon
hearing the time of the train’s departure, “I can’t stay around here all day,
Edmund. I’ve got chores to do at home. So
we better go.” Upon saying this, Edmund, Sr. shook hands with his son and
climbed into the International pickup truck with Jess behind the wheel ready to
accept the additional responsibility of being the oldest son now at home. Edmund
waved to them as they departed for the farm.
Edmund wandered around Ponca City just
killing time. Contrary to what many might believe, he was not troubled by his
father and brother abruptly bidding him good-bye. Edmund knew the only way his
father had survived the Great Depression was by backbreaking work literally
from sunup until sundown. His papa and
mama had never coddled him, but he was assured of their love. Long ago his
parents had learned to deal with the harshness of life. Edmund did not realize
it, but ironically, his own ability to handle the stark reality of life and
death and continue to live life with a sense of purpose would serve him well
over the next three years.
Edmund traveled by rail to Oklahoma City
that evening. He was met at the train station and taken for the night to a
large building. The following morning on December 19, he and seventy-five other
young men took the military oath.
Edmund’s father had always quoted Benjamin
Franklin who had said, “Put your purse into your head and no man can take it
from you.” The quotation had impacted him so much that he had copied it in a
quotation collection he had been required to compile in his high school days. Edmund
had always preferred the outdoors and vigorous activity to time spent at a desk
poring over books. Yet once again the
path that he had chosen greatly influenced his placement in the military. Although Edmund had never dreamed his
attainment of a high school diploma would so strategically affect his life, the
first question with which he was confronted was: “How much education do you
have?” He was immediately steered in a different direction from those who had
only completed the eleventh grade of high school.
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| Cecile Smith, the beloved English teacher, and Jess Gates, my father's brother who had to step into the role of the family chauffeur when Dad left for military service in 1941. This photo was taken in 1988. |
Later he would reflect with deep gratitude
on the encouragement he received from Miss Cecilia Smith, his English teacher,
enabling him to graduate from high school. The bus ride from his rural
community, the Big Bend, to Burbank where his high school was located was
sixty-nine miles or a round trip of one hundred thirty-eight miles. Edmund
frequently carried a can of cream or several dozen eggs as he walked the one
and a half miles to board the school bus. He sold both farm products at the
little store in Burbank located just down the hill from the high school. Every
penny from the eggs or cream was returned to his mother. Miss Smith knew what
hardship Edmund faced just to attend high school, so she worked with him on her
lunch break to assist him in meeting her stiff requirements for the senior
English course she taught. He could never have imagined the immense value her
dedicated instruction would literally mean to his survival.
Edmund left by bus for Fort Sill at Lawton
on December 21st. He stayed there for a couple of nights. Here he
was surrounded by strangers and unable to even find the mess hall while
there. This backward, country boy
survived on candy bars from the PX, the abbreviation for Post Exchange,
otherwise known as the base store. The other seventy-five men departed, and
Edmund was left to guard the barracks. He never knew why he was chosen for this
assignment, but he had no apprehension about being by himself. A sense of
lonesomeness that night did not even cross his mind. He just went to bed,
relaxed, and went right off to sleep although he had been left in those vast,
empty quarters by himself.
Sheppard Field at Wichita Falls, Texas,
was Edmund’s next destination by bus. A corporal calling, “Fall In!” caused him
to immediately come to attention. He
thought the corporal was a general. Edmund never questioned the rank of the
soldier issuing the command. He had been taught to immediately respond to a
person in authority over him.
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| My father and Anna Cox, Bertie's older sister, on Christmas Day, 1941. |
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| Kathleen Myers White, my mother, Bernyce Smith Gates,and Ruby Cox Myers, Kathleen's mother and Bertie's sister. The happy occasion was my parents' 50th wedding anniversary in 1998. |
Edmund was restricted to the base at
Sheppard Field during Christmas of 1941. Bertie Cox, another Oklahoman from the
Big Bend community, was also stationed at Sheppard Field. He informed Edmund
that his family was coming for Christmas Day to Wichita Falls. Bertie invited Edmund to spend the day with
them. Edmund jumped at the chance to be with friends on the holiday rather than
alone on the base. He requested and was granted permission to leave the base
for the holiday celebration. The Cox family had prepared and packed a delicious
Christmas dinner for them to enjoy together. Their hospitality made Edmund’s
first Christmas away from home a little less lonely.
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