Frank Woolever

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My initial serious thought about the U.S. getting involved in WWII happened on Dec. 7, 1941, when I was driving to Marshalltown with a Des Moines friend where I was to meet her parents. The radio in the car was on when the news report broadcast the Japanese devastating attack to our naval forces in Hawaii. My draft number was rather low, so I knew it wouldn’t be long before I would be "invited" to report for active duty.

So in March, I lost my freedom—so to speak—and was outfitted with appropriate military clothing and all other necessary gear including a duffel bag, and directed to Fort Des Moines. Regular army soldiers were in charge there so I soon got acquainted with their brand of speech. First of all it was just do as they say and don’t ask any questions.

It was either the first or second night there that I decided the army life needed to be tested. So I carefully checked the so-called security gate and walked out to freedom. I have no memory of how I got from there to Grand Ave. in Des Moines which had been my home. Somehow I eventually returned to Ft. Des Moines at daybreak the next a.m. and casually re-entered via the security gate "undetected."

My Ft. Des Moines residence lasted something less than 30 days. I and many others then boarded a troop train in D.M. on our way to Camp Crowder, Missouri. That was rather a large army base, where we were introduced to early morning wake ups, stand at attention calls, yelling "here" when the sergeant called our names, learned to make our army cots to military specs so a coin would bounce on the army blanket, everything in our space to be neat and clean to pass the sergeant’s morning inspections. We became skilled at marching drills, policing the area around our barracks like picking up any cigarette butts to release the tobacco and "swirl" the paper so it is not noticeable when tossed back on the ground. Of course there were other necessary house keeping duties like K.P., peeling bags of potatoes, mopping the wood on floors so they were soooo clean.

We were at Camp Crowder about two months, I guess, giving authorities time to decide how our background skills would fit military needs. In the interim, many of us became ill with dengue fever, apparently caused by dust from the limestone surface we lived on (unless my medical information was erroneous). We were obviously sick, but only for a short time. In order to make our time enjoyable, an evening of entertainment was organized by authorities by inviting bus loads of beautiful young Missouri girls to a dance. That certainly did brighten up our military life.

Time at Camp Crowder was soon over. I didn't think we were really soldiers yet, but orders were written to get us on the way overseas. So back on a troop train to California, not particularly feeling mad at the Japs or any one else but loyal to the American cause. I think we spent two or three weeks in California and were then loaded on a ship for the SWP area. That gave me just time to make a special visit with a friend of Virginia’s who had moved from D.M. to near this military base. Only time for one visit. Security gates were very strict here.

On board the ship, the Lurline (normally a luxury civilian transport ship). For some of us landlubbers, it was a few days of sea sickness but recovery was soon OK. Because of the possibility of Japanese subs in the Pacific, our ship went zigzag all the way across supposedly to help avoid the subs. So it took a long time to get to Tasmania via New Zealand.

When we landed, they were expecting us. Having an official roster, they were quick to separate us into planned groups. Within a day or two I was in a group on board a Dutch ship headed up the coast of Australia for Townsville. It was anything but a luxury ship—more days of seasickness partly because the crew just tossed raw fish on the stove top to cook in the same general area (the bowels of the ship) where we laid in our hammocks with no reasonable place to escape from the odor.

Finally landing in Townsville, we were trucked to the base of the 41st Anti-Aircraft Artillery Unit. This was to be our assigned unit for the duration. It was a relief to now belong to someone. The cadre of this unit was organized as a National Guard outfit back in New Jersey, headed by a Major General who was on General McArthur's staff. The noncom positions were all assigned and we were just fill-in as needed. This unit had previously been stationed in western Australia (Perth, I believe) before coming to Townsville.

Now after this long "exciting" introduction, I guess we are ready for the serious military experiences. In my case it is primarily a matter of being overseas some 39 months, bouncing around to several bases. We were a relatively small headquarters unit, as I remember about 8 or 10 commissioned officers and probably 25 or 30 enlisted men. Captain Weadon was our battery commander, specifically being in charge of enlisted men. He would do routine inspections making sure we were all neatly and properly dressed. Part of his procedure was to forcibly grab our rifles and check to see if they had a clean bore. (They all should be clean since we almost never fired any shots.)

We were in Townsville about 18 months. I know the officers had official military assignments as aids to the General. We enlisted troops had to do with such duties as reassigning incoming replacement troops to other units, keeping morning reports and monthly pay records and such things as that. I certainly can’t think of anything dangerous. We lived in tents, had a very good cooking staff and supply unit. At least once a week Captain Weadon had us all march up what I remember was called Castle Rock or Castle Mountain. It was a very good exercise routine and we always stopped part way up for a "smoke stop." Can you imagine!

Then pretty regularly we were "invited" to run about 3 or 4 blocks, led by a noncom who I always thought I could outrun. He was aware of what I was trying to do and he always came in first, knowing how to pace himself so as to sprint at the end. We had a couple of tennis courts and equipment so we played quite a bit of tennis. A popular local activity for civilians was going to dog races. I occasionally ventured to the races when I had time. Going to races of course means making some bets. I had become acquainted with a local man who seemed to have some official status at the races and knew important inside information. He was the father of a friend of mine. He suggested that I curtsy up to him at a race and he would try to help out. I accepted his kind offer and became a winner each time I bet. I never tried that again. Did not want to cause him any trouble. Just so you won’t think Townsville was a dull place for a military base, I will just mention very briefly, an Aussie orchestra played at a dance at least once a week (about a 4-piece musicians’ group) who I remember knew about 4 songs played over and over but with a good rapid solid beat.

I guess authorities thought it was time to make better use of this Anti-Aircraft Artillery Unit. So we received orders dividing our unit in half. One half stayed in Townsville and the other half went to South Brisbane. I was sent to Brisbane but was kinda’ sorry to leave T-Ville. We set up camp a short distance from town in tents and cots and our daily workplace was in a very modern downtown office building in Brisbane. Needless to say, this was pretty much a luxury for military duty. USO had a unit (restaurant, etc.) close to our building so we ate most of our meals there. I could check out a military vehicle to use whenever I needed to, to furnish transportation to any of our unit. While in Brisbane I was promoted to First Sergeant. I'm not sure why, but I accepted gracefully and found an Australian mother to sew on the new stripes.

Life in Brisbane lasted about nine months during which time I was given a week off duty—for R&R (Rest and Recuperation?). That involved a short trip down south of Brisbane for a ‘lovely’ time off. Such pleasantries can’t last forever, so orders came through advancing us to New Guinea. It was no longer a battle zone. We spent about one year in New Guinea. It was essentially a tropical area (I guess)—always hot. We just had more routine duties, not fun things like T-ville and Brisbane. But who should complain? We were able to use a big motorized boat (which one of our guys knew how to operate) and took an occasional trip up the coast to another island inhabited by aboriginal natives. They all were friendly so we could just wander around through their camp to see their lifestyle and notice some of the men smoking "beetle" juice around a campfire.

While we were in New Guinea we were all taking atabrine because of malaria problems. I had the duty of standing by our lieutenant to call off the names of each person in the chow line to be sure they all got their yellow pill. But wouldn’t you know, I came down with malaria. The night before it got me, I went to our supply quarters to get another blanket because I was cold. Went to bed to keep warm and knew nothing else until I woke up in a military hospital unit a day or two later. I had no recollection of having been taken from my tent or going to the hospital.

My next move was to Manila in the Philippines. By then many of us were counting our points (points based on time overseas, time in battle areas, etc.) knowing that if we could get a furlough to the states we would not be sent back overseas. I was easily able to arrange a furlough, traveling back to California on a sister ship to the Lurline (no zigzagging across the Pacific this time) finally seeing the distant coast of the USA. What a celebration!

During all this overseas time I was in serious romantic correspondence with a beautiful young angel who occasionally sent me slightly perfumed letters and great pictures to let me think maybe she would be waiting for me. My discharge in August, ’45 ,was just enough time for us to arrange a December wedding in Des Moines. NOW talk about a celebration !!

Love to you all — from Frank and Dorothy