The War

It's now Friday June 13th 1941, and my brother and I are having dinner at the Svithiod Singing Club on the near north side of Chicago prior to going up to “the lake” for the week-end. We got a telephone call from my mother who was already there with my father. The call was a shocker!! My father had had a heart attack and had died. He was 73 years old. I was twenty-one years of age.
The war clouds were hanging very heavy over Europe and England and Adolph Hitler was wreaking havoc.
My brother Stuart — although he was only 12 years older than I was — was always sort of a hero in my eyes and I felt he could do no wrong. For the past few years he had been one of the top salesmen for a company known as The Creamery Package Manufacturing Co. This company manufactured equipment used in the processing of dairy products and they also were distributors of most of the expendable supplies used in the Dairy industry. Stuart, realizing that I had no particular aim in life, suggested that I consider the Dairy Equipment and Supply business. I applied for a job with The Creamery Package Manufacturing Co., and lo’ and behold I was accepted. I started at the very very bottom. I was assigned to work in their warehouse on Lake Street loading and unloading trucks, sweeping floors and doing all of the chores that are always assigned to the lowly incoming flunkies. I liked the job. It was a start in a direction for me, and not only that, I was now making $22.50 a week plus overtime. Not only that but there were a scattering of good Swedish Lutherans working for “C.P.”
I’m In the Army, Now
The year is 1941, I am 21 years of age. I had registered for selective service (“The Draft”). Uncle Sam, or FDR (Franklin Delano Roosevelt, The President of The United States of America), had decided that it was time for me, Charles Roland August Johnson, AKA Pleto to spend his “One Year” serving in the Army of The United States. The popular song of the day was “Good-bye Dear, I'll be Back In a Year, 'Cause I'm in The Army Now!” Hah, what a laugh! I was scheduled to be inducted into the Army on December 10, 1941, for one year. I wasn't that unhappy about that. My cousin Marian Dahlstrom Sandstrom, who lived in Park Ridge, Illinois at the time, arranged to have a farewell party for me. This party was to be held at her house on December 7, 1941, and it was to be held at some time around three-thirty in the afternoon. While driving from Chicago to Park Ridge to attend this party, I was listening to the radio and listening to the Chicago Bears football game, when the game was interrupted by a special announcement from Washington D.C. The Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor, and the United States of America had declared war on Japan (then later declared war on Germany). All persons who were in the army or about to be inducted into the army were now in for the DURATION! not for just one year!
So began the army career of one Charles Roland August Johnson AKA Pleto.
Early Army
On December 10, 1941, I was hustled off to some building down in the loop area of Chicago where I was promptly stripped of all of my clothes, and I mean ALL of my clothes,and herded here and herded there and poked here and poked there and finally was made to stand in a line, hold my right hand up in the air and solemnly swear to defend my country against all enemies. I got my clothes back, put 'em on and was herded off to Camp Grant, Illinois. Oh how I missed my Mommie!! We got to Camp Grant about two A.M. where it was 26 degrees below zero (you can verify this by checking with the Rockford weather bureau) and again herded into a classroom of some sort where we proceeded to take our I.Q. tests (Intelligence Quotient). It's now about 3:30 A.M. and we're herded into a Quarter Master building where we again stripped to the chilled bone and are given the most ill-fitting clothes that have ever clothed the body of one Charles Roland August Johnson, AKA Pleto.
We got to sleep until noon the next day when we were awakened by a guy who looked like the typical hard-nosed army sergeant that you used to see in the old war movies. This sergeant, who was to be our platoon sergeant all through basic training, proceeded to read us the “Articles of War.” These articles of war listed all of the rules of the army. He followed the reading of each article by saying “Violation of this article is punishable by ten years imprisonment unless we are at war, and then it is punishable by death,” and then this sergeant bellowed at us “AND WE ARE NOW AT WAR!!!!”
Following this exciting session we were told that our group had been assigned to the garbage detail for the whole GD camp. We rode around in huge trucks and loaded the raw garbage into these trucks. This was raw, unwrapped garbage (plastic bags were unknown at this time). I have now been in the army one whole day and my first day has been spent tramping around in raw garbage waste deep with my “new” uniform and ill-fitting shoes. The next day I was assigned to the kitchen to accept the trays of food in the mess hall from the “new” recruits who couldn't eat this mass-produced army chow!
I was assigned to the Medical Corps at Camp Grant, and more than that I was assigned to the veterinarian branch of the Medical Corps where I was to go to a special school. This special school was to train me to treat and care for horses in the cavalry. I guess you could say that I had a major in horse caring and a minor in the inspection of dairy plants. Fortunately horses became a very very small part of WW II. Consequently, I was assigned as a food-plant inspector.
Boise
I was assigned, along with Leroy Arnold Grytness, to the Station Hospital at Gowen Field in Boise, Idaho. “Gryt” and I were the only two veterinarians at Gowen Field and no one knew what to do with us, so we wrote our own programs. We would inspect the Allumbaugh Dairy in Nampa Idaho every day. Allumbaugh Dairy was the only dairy that supplied milk to Gowen Field, so it was the only place we could inspect. It didn't take Mr. Allumbaugh too long to realize that he had the world by the tail.
“Gryt” and I had been assigned our own car from the local motor pool, and along about noon each day we'd check out the car and drive to Nampa, Idaho, where the Allumbaugh Dairy was located. Mr. Allumbaugh would give us a supply of chocolate milk and orange juice and we'd “inspect” the dairy, give it a clean bill of health and head back to Gowen Field in time for dinner. As time went by we'd invite some of our other buddies who had time off to join us for this tour of inspection. Mr. Allumbaugh didn't mind; he'd give us all of the drinks we and our buddies wanted, just so we kept out of his hair. Allumbaugh Dairy never did get a bad mark. The reason they didn't get a bad mark is because their plant was always up to snuff.
The Bubble Burst!!!!
Twenty five of the enlisted men from the Station Hospital at Gowen Field were transferred as a cadre to set up the Station Hospital at The Topeka Army Air Base at Topeka, Kansas. “Gryt” and I were part of that Cadre. “Gryt” was kept as a veterinarian, and I was assigned as the assistant to Sgt. Compton, who was the medical Supply Sgt. and had applied for Officers Candidate School. What a break for me. We had been in Topeka less than a week when Sgt. Compton got his orders to report to Officer's Candidate School. Who was the likely successor to this plum job? Charles Roland August Johnson, AKA Pleto, of course! Captain Tyler, who was the medical supply officer and I got along famously. I loved my job and he could go out and chase the nurses and not worry about the medical supply part of his job. This meant many and fast promotions for me. In a few scant months I had gone from Private to Technical Sergeant, really the best rank an enlisted man could have.
An Officer and a Gentleman
This went to my head and I thought “there's no holding me back.” I, too, applied for officer's candidate school and lo’ and be hold I was accepted. What had I done? I knew I wasn't a student and here I was in school again. In my platoon at OCS (Officer's Candidate School) we started out with 64 “candidates” and when school was over some 90 days later, 16 candidates graduated (I was one of the graduates). We never heard from any of the “washouts” once they departed OCS. We all felt that they were probably sent right out to the battle field. This thought alone made me one heck of a good student. As has been said in my family, I just hadn't lived up to my potential. This time I made it a point to live up to my potential. I hated to see the sight of blood, especially if it was my own.
I think that one of the biggest thrills of my life was Officer's Candidate School graduation day at Camp Barkley, Texas. There was lots of pomp and circumstance the band playing, all of the stirring marches, and we candidates passed in review, knowing that in an hour or so we would get our gold bars and become second lieutenants in the Army of The United States — that was thrilling !!!!
As a second Looey, I was assigned — along with Major George W. Shelton — to the 269th Station hospital at Camp Ellis, Illinois. We were soon changed to become the 135th General Hospital. We trained at Fort Benning, Georgia and subsequently set up “shop” in Leominster England. Leominster, incidentally is located in Herefordshire. When we set up camp in Leominster, the officers were assigned huts in which to live. Along with six other officers— one of them being the Catholic Chaplain, Father John P. Condon — I was assigned to live in hut 103. Hut number 103 was not too much of a way of identifying our fine abode, so we immediately named the hut the home of “Six Sinners and a Saint.” This sign, I am proud to say, hangs in my office as I am writing this epistle. While at the 135th General hospital I was fortunate enough to meet three other officers whom I would retain as friends for the rest of our lives. The three are now deceased. The three were Father Condon (being a good Lutheran I could not call him Father, so I always called him Padre), George Seiffert, and Donald MacIntyre. We were a very compatible foursome.
I was assigned as the Special Services officer at the 135th General Hospital, which meant that I was sort of a morale officer. I was responsible for providing our hospital with an officer's club and seeing that it was properly stocked; the same for the enlisted men's club. The best part of my job was to bring in, supervise, and partake of all of the outside entertainment that was available to us. This meant shows of all kinds for both the personnel of the hospital and all of the patients. I might add here that the 135th General Hospital was a 1000-bed hospital, with the wherewithal to expand to 2000 beds in the event of any emergency. This emergency occurred during the battle of the bulge when we expanded to 2000 beds and then some.
Traveling for the Army
My tour of duty was rather uneventful. I did take “supply” trips to London and Birmingham, England. I was also sent to Paris, France for a special course, a course which I never took because I became violently ill in Paris and was hospitalized for a week or two. By then the classes had ended. I might add here, too, that the war in Europe was now over. With the war over in Europe and the surrender of Japan I was now on my way to becoming a civilian. This meant making my own way and not having someone tell me when to get up when to go to bed and so forth and so on.
The War is over!!!!
I have to relate a little anecdote about my dear mother. I had been away from home almost two-and-a-half years, a great deal of this time overseas. When I arrived at the port of debarkation I headed for a telephone to call mother. I didn't have the proper change so I called collect. “Hi mom, this is Roland,” I said. “I just landed in New York and I'm feeling fine and I wanted to call you and tell you how glad I am to be home, and I'll see you pretty soon and I love you so much.” (I loved my mother, who was then still remembering the great depression.) She replied “Honey, I'm glad you're safe, but we can talk later when you get home, but this is a long distance call, and it's costing a great deal of money.” That was my reception from my mother. I was not hurt, but impressed with my mother's frugality.
I'm back home at 1638 Granville Ave., living at home with my mother and my brother. After two weeks of carousing and sleeping late and so forth and so on, my mother thought that it was time that I go back to work. So, I went back to work at The Creamery Package Manufacturing Co. I was promoted from the warehouse to the main office where I was to be an inside salesman. After a period of time I was transferred to their factories in Ft. Atkinson and Lake Mills, Wisconsin where I was to become more familiar with their equipment prior to “Going on the Road” as a salesman. The territory that was assigned to me was Northern Illinois up to the Wisconsin state line. This just happened to abut the territory that my brother Stuart had, so you can see that the two brothers would schedule their calls so that we could arrange to meet quite often for cups of coffee and brotherly chitchats.
Automobiles were virtually impossible to purchase at this time because all of the automobile plants had been converted to munitions factories during the war. Through the efforts and connections that my brother-in-law Frank Carlborg had, I was able to purchase a 1946 Studebaker convertible automobile. This was the sharpest looking car on the road at the time. I paid the ridiculously high price (I thought) of $1,350 for this magnificent machine. I'm only kidding, of course. The same car today can cost $35,000 or more.
Now, another shocking telephone call!! The call was from my brother who announced that he had just resigned from The Creamery package Manufacturing Co. to start his own company, called Stuart W. Johnson and Co. Stuart made me an offer that I could not refuse, so I too resigned from C.P. and started to work for Stu. This proved to be a very wise move — for both of us.
I was now beginning to feel more secure about myself than I had ever felt before. I had a good job, a flashy car, I was taking flying lessons at Palwaukee Airport (I have some ten hours of solo flying time), and I owned a “speed boat” at Lake Geneva.
Sailing, Sailing
“Oh, they built the ship Titanic, and when they had it through...,” was song that we used to sing around the bar at The Bay Shore Lodge in Williams Bay, Wisconsin. When I became the proud owner of a twenty-six-foot river boat, with about a four- foot beam, it was only proper that I should christen it “The Titanic.” I bought this boat for two-hundred dollars and it was truly a river boat and not suited for Lake Geneva. This boat would not ride the waves that we had on Lake Geneva, but rather would plow right through them like a submarine. River boats were built to roll with the current of a river. This boat had a 4-cylinder, maybe 80-horsepower Gray engine that was always in need of repair. The boat leaked badly and no amount of caulking could stop the leaks. The engine was a water-cooled engine; by using a series of valves, I could take water from “the lake” to cool the engine or I could switch valves and cool the engine by pumping water out of the bottom of the boat through the engine, thereby keep the engine cool and also keep the “ship” afloat.
It was a “Smoky Stover” sight, with oil nuts and bolts and what have you being shot out of the water discharge from the engine. The boat was truly in disrepair, but it was without a doubt the most well-known craft in Williams Bay. Everybody would always want to ride on the Titanic. When the Padre, George, and Don (my old army buddies) came to visit me, they would comment on how so many people in their fine, expensive Chris Crafts, and what have you, would flag us down and moor their boats, so they could ride on the Titanic. The Titanic lasted only one season. At the end of the season, rather than pay for removing it from “the lake” and then paying storage charges, I sold the boat to a Mr. Al Rassmussen for ten dollars. We both made out!!
I might add here, that during the war my mother had sold our summer home at Cedar Point Park, so now my brother and I would rent rooms in Williams Bay, Wisconsin, where we would spend weekends.

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