My first realization that we were
in the second World War came when some of the boys in our high school class of
1940 quit school and enlisted. You hear about war, but until someone you know
or love is involved in it, it doesn’t have much of an impact.
We had the usual U.S. bond drives, blackouts and
air-raid drills, even though I lived in a small town.
While working at J. C. Penneys in
1941 and ’42, there were shortages of silk hose, denim overalls and many other
things.
I met my husband, Bob Holmes, in
1943 while he was stationed at Fitzsimmons
Hospital in the medical
corps. In May of 1944 we were married in Chicago, his home town, during a
five-day delay before he left for the European Theater of War. The next day he
left on his extended tour of duty, and I returned to my home in Paonia to await
his return.
Those days and months were long,
lonely and sad. Many of my letters from my husband were censored and parts of
them cut out. If he wanted anything sent to him I had to show his letter of request
to the postmaster before they would accept the package. Sometimes he wanted
cheese and crackers, but mostly letters and pictures from home. I tried to
write every day. I became very frustrated and frightened when I didn’t get a
letter – sometimes for weeks – but now I know when you’re fighting a war and on
the move, you don’t always have time for letter writing.
While my husband was in Germany, he
stayed briefly with a glass blower’s family. He sent me a wine decanter and two
beautiful wine glasses that this glass blower had given him. He also saw the
German people rolling large wheels of cheese down the road, probably to a
market.
When he returned to the United States
he had a 30-day delay en route to the South Pacific. It was in Chicago
that we heard the news of the bombing of Hiroshima
and the end of the War. I shed many tears that day; first, for the ones who
would never come home and their families; next, tears of joy that my husband
did come home safely to me. Even though many war-time marriages didn’t last,
we’ve been married almost 47 years, and we praise the Lord for these years
together.
Carrie Holmes
Grand Junction,
Colorado
Back in 1955 a call
went out from the editors of the then Capper’s
Weekly asking for readers to send
in articles on true pioneers. Hundreds of letters came pouring in from early
settlers and their children, many now in their 80s and 90s, and from
grandchildren of settlers, all with tales to tell. So many articles were
received that a decision was made to create a book, and in 1956, the first My
Folks title – My Folks Came in a
Covered Wagon – hit the shelves. Nine
other books have since been published in the My Folks series, all filled to the brim with true tales from Capper’s readers, and we are proud to
make those stories available to our growing online community.
