Military

The Sept. 20, 1915 edition of the Comet newspaper included a section titled, “Soldiers Home News Notes,” containing a page with numerous comments about residents of the Johnson City military facility:

 

Soldiers' Home Musicians

“Major W.P. Jackson, Uncle Sam’s inspector general of the army, arrived suddenly on payday, and commenced operations by inspecting barracks at one p.m. sharp. He introduced a new wrinkly by having us all lined up out of doors for a thorough inspection of uniforms. The major is a pleasant gentleman, not overloaded with unnecessary red tape and we now hope he will call again when not so busy.”

Another one offers this tidbit: “If a veteran could read his own biography, it would probably surprise him more than anyone else. But such is human nature and it is always well not to speak ill of the dead. Uncle Sam furnishes grave stones for all of us, he is fair and square with all, tells no lies, gives rank and service but nothing else.”

The most revealing item on the page was a poem, titled “The Brownlow Soldiers Home,” providing a poignant reflection of one soldier’s assessment of the Johnson City military facility. Professor W. F. Willard of Company G, 45th Pennsylvania Infantry, wrote the poet:

“I’ve traveled this country over fifty years or more. I’ve been from the Atlantic to the Pacific shore. And many hardships I’ve had as long as I did roam. But at last my lot is cast in the Brownlow Soldiers Home. There’s plenty here to eat and drink and soldier’s clothes to wear. And officers whose duty is to see that I get my share. Of everything a soldier needs and I hope I’ll never roam. If you want to work or if you have a trade. You’ll be enumerated so don’t be afraid. The work is by no means hard – it will never make you roam. But simply occupy your mind in the Brownlow Soldiers Home.

“Should sickness overtake you and bind you in your chains. There are women there to care for you and oft times ease your pain. They will rub you with their lotions and oft times cease your moans. And will always change your notions of the Brownlow Soldiers Home. There are chaplains there to visit you and they will pray at your bedside. They will speak to you consoling words (until) you are satisfied. And if you don’t desire them and you wish to be alone. You can ease your mind and go it blind in the Brownlow Soldiers Home.

“When then breath it does leave you and you have no more to say. Your comrades there most tenderly will bear your corpse away. There’s very little weeping and you seldom hear a moan. At any of the funerals in the Brownlow Soldiers Home. Now the battle of life is over and he is lowered in his grave. His comrades fire a last salute for the soldier true and brave. With the stars and stripes half-mast and great respect is shown. To every vet that meets his death in the Brownlow Soldiers Home.

“Long wave the sentry banner, the emblem of the free. Beneath its fold those warriors bold did gain sweet liberty. For our country ‘tis most grateful which on these grounds have shown. The blessings and the comforts of the Brownlow Soldiers Home.”

This interesting rhyme is a fitting tribute to the dedicated efforts of Walter Brownlow, a Tennessee U.S. representative from 1896 to 1910, for getting the Home approved for Johnson City. The beloved congressman died on July 8, 1910. 

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I recently examined the contents of an April 1945 “Woman’s Day” magazine that carried a price tag of two cents. I was three years old when this publication hit the local magazine stands. What impressed me the most was the emphasis of World War II on advertisements and sacrifices made during the conflict. For example:

Red Goose Shoes: “Help Uncle Sam save leather. Buy boys’ and girls’ shoes that wear longer. Invest in war bonds regularly.” Texcel Tape: “Today most Texcel Tape that’s made is being used for war. Buy bonds and stamps until victory returns to your store. Oakite Cleanser: “Buy war bonds and stamps.”

Johnson’s Glo-Coat Floor Polisher: “Fibber McGee and Molly say, ‘Nurses are needed. All women can help. See the Red Cross or write the Surgeon General, U.S. Army, Washington, D.C.’” SweetHeart Toilet Soap: “Don’t waste soap. It contains materials vital to the war effort.” McCormick & Co.: “Serving the Armed Forces throughout the world.”

Swift’s Allsweet Vegetable Oleomargine:  “Your first duty to your country – Buy war bonds.” Waldorf Tissue: “The more war bonds you buy, the shorter the war.” Beech-Nut Gum: “Until final victory, you may not always find this delicious gum at your (store). Our fighting men are now getting most of it.”

Fletcher’s Castoria (The Laxative made especially for children): The ad title was “I became an Army Nurse and solved a Navy Problem.” The problem was that her brother, a sailor, and his wife had a baby boy suffering from irregularity. The quandary was quickly eradicated with a bottle of Fletcher’s Castoria.

Speed Queen’s washing machine ad revealed the scarcity of appliances during the war. It showed a housewife running toward her husband and joyfully proclaiming, “I’ve got a priority. I stopped at Jones Appliance today and made arrangements to get one of the first Speed Queen washers they get in (after the war). All I had to do was register in a little book. We will be notified when the first shipment arrives.”

Balanced Pacific Sheets gave a lengthy plea: “Let’s pitch in and give the boys what they need to finish this war and give it in lavish abundance. Take a war job or hang on the one you have. Buy bonds … more and more and still more. Conserve your worldly goods: mend that old sheet; don’t throw it away. And when at last you must buy replacements, let them be (of course) superb Pacific Balanced Sheets.”

An article titled “My Country “Twas of Thee” warns returning servicemen that things would not be as they left them and they too must sacrifice until supplies catch up with demand.

Another article, “The High School Crowd Lends a Hand,” describes how volunteers were serving in the Junior Division of The American Women’s Hospitals Reserve Corps at Jamaica Hospital in Long Island, NY. The ladies worked one half day each week performing a variety of helpful tasks.

A notice on one page said: “The wartime burden on transportation facilities may cause delays in shipment of Woman’s Day Magazine to some stores. We regret any inconvenience you may be caused and ask that you not to blame your store manager.”

Another advertisement titled “Carry Victory in Your Basket” suggested numerous helpful hints for reducing paper needs: “Every time you go to the store and carry your purchases home unwrapped, you help bring victory so much nearer. Take along a basket, box, shopping bag or some permanent container that is roomy enough to carry your purchase home.”

The ad asserted how paper was used to wrap and protect more than 700,000 different war items including shell containers, bomb rings, parachutes, flares, blood plasma, vests and V-Mail envelopes. It ended with the words: “Remember – Paper is War Power.” 

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Bobby Funk, professor of theater at ETSU, has the noble mission of restoring VA Center’s beautiful Memorial Hall to that of its heyday. When the Mountain Branch of the National Home for Disabled Volunteer Soldiers was established in 1901, it was the fulfillment of a dream that President Abraham Lincoln once had.

Many Civil War soldiers had lost an arm or leg by amputation, the commonest and cruelest form of battleground surgery. The veterans required entertainment to take their minds off their physical and mental afflictions. The 600-seat Memorial Hall was built in 1906 to address that need. It was modeled after the Lincoln Theatre in Washington, D.C.

The edifice has three massive arched windows that open onto a huge stone balcony with carved stone balustrade railing at the second floor foyer level. Below them are three deeply recessed wood and glass doors. Visitors to the Home once arrived by buggy, automobile, flivver (small inexpensive older car) or trolley. Events had to be concluded by 9:30 p.m.; that is when the facility gates were closed and the trolley ceased operation.

Vaudeville acts, light opera and plays were quite common. In 1912, George M. Cohan's “45 Minutes From Broadway” opened the season. Later, Bud Fisher's original “Mutt and Jeff” played there with a cast of 50 people. The June 13, 1912 musical production, “American Girl,” is purported to be the first production by a local dramatic group. Johnson City Dramatic Club participants included Angeline Ward, Leone Wagoner, Robert Lyle and T.B. Cook.

A popular showing between 1912 and 1917 was the Mark Sennett production of Keystone Cops, a slapstick police department spoof that featured distinguished actors Charlie Chaplin and Fatty Arbuckle. Tuesday and Thursday nights became movie nights, projecting such silent black and white films as “His Picture In The Papers” (1916, Douglas Fairbanks), “Hell’s Hinges” (1916, William S. Hart) and “Hearts of the World” (1918, Lillian Gish and Robert Harron).

Preceding each motion picture, the National Soldier’s Home band performed an overture for attendees and then supplied accompaniment for the silent film. Resident veterans were admitted free; family members were charged a nickel. In addition, the band gave a concert at the gazebo bandstand in the park overlooking beautiful Buffalo Mountain every Monday, Wednesday and Friday evening and another one at Memorial Hall on Sunday night.

According to Funk: “About eight years ago, I discovered Memorial Hall. I thought it was beautiful and wanted to do something with it. A contract allows ETSU to lease and maintain the theatre for 35 years at no charge. 

“New curtains were purchased, interior painted, roof repaired and carpet replaced. We are in the process of redoing the dressing rooms. We hope to install heating and air-conditioning in the building to prevent further deterioration resulting from paint peeling and plaster cracking. We sell regular and box seats as part of a fund raising effort called “Remember our Vets.” Bobby said they currently rent the theatre to various groups to accumulate money for further restoration. Two years ago, they celebrated the 100thanniversary of the theatre.”

The university professor commented that the local city newspaper once reviewed performances at Memorial Hall, often quoting the older veterans such as this one known only as “Old Shorty”: “This play was mighty fine. The girls sang great, but they weren’t as pretty as the girls last time.”   

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Ms. Louise Bond Alley has a remarkable Civil War story relayed to her by her mother, Edith (Mrs. John) Bond that was passed down from Edith’s mother, Rebecca (Mrs. James) Clark and grandmother, Magdalena (Mrs. Abram) Sherfey.

In the mid 1800s, the Abram Sherfey family owned 300 acres of land along what is today identified as 282 Woodlyn Road in the east section of town. Railroad tracks bordered it on the front and Brush Creek at the back. Abram, a German immigrant, built a two-story house using hand-made brick after initially living on the property in a “soddy” (grass and dirt) house and log cabin. Magdalena rode the horse that tramped the brick before it was cut. 

Between 1862 and 1865, the couple altruistically turned their home into a makeshift Civil War hospital that served soldiers on both sides of the war. Louise attributed this bold move to her family’s anti-slavery belief and deep-rooted Church of the Brethren faith. The East Tennessee and Virginia Railroad played a significant role in the viability of a hospital in that locality. Before the war, it regularly stopped at the Sherfey farm for gratis wood and water.

During the war, train personnel dropped off critically wounded and sick soldiers and picked up recovered ones. Because the conflict, the train might roll by anytime during the day or night, daily or weekly. Keeping track repaired was an ongoing concern. The train’s mournful steam whistle wailing in the distance signaled the approach of the massive locomotive. If a recovered soldier was ready to board, a family member rushed him to the tracks and flagged down the train. 

The two-story house had four 18×18 feet rooms, two upstairs and two downstairs. Up to ten soldiers slept in each room on pallets on the floor. The downstairs had a kitchen and dining room where family members resided. A fireplace was along the back wall. Three porches, one on the front and one on the ends of the kitchen and dining rooms, were used to store and prepare food when the house became unduly crowded with soldiers.

A trapdoor in the kitchen floor near the fireplace was the only access to the dirt cellar. It was covered with a rug when not in use. Hams, bacon, dairy products and other items were stored there. Meat was first cured in the smokehouse and moved to the cellar. The family raised such provisions as garden vegetables and livestock and hunted wild game, obtaining additional supplies wherever it could be found. Grain was ground at local mills, such as nearby St. John’s Milling Co. 

One constant threat was roving renegades from both sides of the war stealing whatever supplies they could confiscate. When the peril became known, family members turned livestock loose and chased them into the woods for their protection. Water was arduously carried to the house from a nearby spring; large rain barrels accumulated runoff for washing purposes. Water was recurrently boiled in the fireplace to treat soldiers’ wounds and to wash and reuse soiled dressings.

When possible, Magdalena sent a letter to the family of each new arrival informing them of their loved one’s location and medical situation. Rebecca, about 9 or 10 at the time, penned letters for her mother utilizing her beautiful handwriting. Sometimes a note prompted a response from a family; often, it did not. Magdalena made use of an 1860 medicine book that is still in the family to prepare remedies for the soldiers. She made poultices, salves and syrups and grew her own herbs.

The family fed and cared for their welcomed guests’ medical needs, bathed them and washed their clothes. Children and adults from nearby farms and soldiers, who were well enough to assist, helped with the chores. Since death was an ever-present unwanted caller, Abram made and kept a supply of handmade pine or poplar coffins ready and buried the deceased in the orchard on the west side of the house, carefully identifying each grave. At war’s end, the government transported the remains to the states where the soldier had resided.

There was rarely any friction at the hospital even with soldiers from both sides of the conflict present. The men wanted to get well enough to return to their homes; for many, the war was over. The Sherfeys received no financial reimbursement from the Union or the Confederacy. The lone exception was an occasional supply of food sent to them from the government by train.

When the hostilities ended in 1865, food supplies had become even scarcer, especially salt and sugar. Salt cost $100 for a 50-lb. barrel and sugar was even more expensive. Payment for goods had to be made in gold coins because merchants would not accept anything else, especially confederate money. Magdalena left behind an old and fragile diary, held together by strings that recorded her 225 midwifery efforts between 1866 and 1873. Louise regularly made notes from stories her mother told her. 

In the 1970s, a family from Indiana located Louise and presented her with one of Magdalena Sherfey’s Civil War letters that had been sent to a soldier in their family. Unfortunately, the young man did not make it home alive. Moved by their gracious gesture, Ms. Alley insisted that the family keep it.

Edith Bond lived in the old historic house until she married in 1920. According to Louise: “She walked the railroad tracks from her home to the streetcar stop at Fairview and Broadway in Carnegie, a distance of three miles. She then hopped on a streetcar and rode to Science Hill High School downtown.

“Mother died in 1978, she said. “That old house played a long and pivotal role in our family’s history. Hopefully, a state historical marker will one day be placed at the site.” 

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Chad Baxter sent me a poem written in Germany in 1918 during WWI by his grandfather, James Preston Baxter, to his future wife, Olivia Dykes. A company clerk typed the elegy on a roll of thick toilet tissue.

While in France during the battle of Hindenburg Line, James, a messenger with the 117th Infantry, needed to get a communication to another allied forces sector.

“Grandfather did not smoke or chew,” said Chad, “but a fellow soldier, Bill Martin, gave him a plug to help ease the stress of war. As Grandfather attempted to make his way through enemy lines, he spotted a patrol heading his way. He lay down in the mud near a creek and dropped the plug of tobacco into the water. ‘They might get me, but not Billy’s plug,’ he thought. “Several in the patrol kicked him as they went by thinking he was dead. Afterwards, he worked his way through the line under fire and delivered the message.”

 

The 19-verse poem that Baxter wrote, “The Girl I Left Behind,” expressed the feelings of a 24-year-old homesick soldier in war-torn Germany for his favorite girl back home:

“Dear when I’m far away, From you somewhere in France, I ask you to always think of me, And pray that I have a chance.

“To leave you dear was hard, The hardest thing of all, But I am no slacker, When I hear my country’s call.

“To be at home with you little girl, Is happiness that is true, But I cannot see the enemy, Down the red, white, and blue.

“I used to be with you often, Those beautiful happy days, But it makes me blue to think, That we are so far away.

“Some day in the near future, This great conflict will end, And the soldier boy who loves you, Will come back to you again.

 “It is the duty of every girl, Who is left behind, To always remember the boy she loves, Who is on the firing line.

“He did not want to leave you, For he is gone to risk his life, He is a true American, And upholds the stars and stripes.

“The girls here are beautiful, Most everywhere you roam, But are nothing to compare, With the ones at home.

“When the boys go marching by, In step with some national hymn, It thrills my heart to know, That I am one of them.

“I told you when I kissed, Those lips of yours sweet, That I was going to leave you, And again we may never meet.

“Don’t give up my dear, If you love me you will wait, If we don’t meet on earth again, We will meet at the golden gate.

“Some girls are not patient, Who will not wait so long, Will go and love a slacker, When their soldier boy has gone.

“When he goes to fight the battle, For his country and for you, His thoughts are always resting, On the one he thinks is true.

“When he returns in years, And finds you false, His whole life will be ruined, And his happiness lost.

“Don’t bear this strain little girl, Make your love be true, Greet the boy in khaki, When he comes back to you.

“Throw your arms about his neck, Let him kiss your sweet little lips, Then he will joyfully tell you, All about his wonderful trip.

“Do not respect a slacker, They deserve not even a chance, The boys who you should honor, Are the boys who go to France.

“I will close this letter hoping, You will be mine some day, As I bid you good-bye for this hour, And good-bye for the day.

“If it’s good-bye for a month, He loves you true as ever, Good-bye for a year, And good-bye perhaps forever.”

After receiving a Bronze Star in early 1921, James married Olivia in October in Fall Branch and eventually raised seven children.   

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I have a family keepsake from World War II that I treasure – a V-Mail sent to my grandmother from my father, a soldier stationed in the Philippines. Long before E- (Electronic) Mails, there were V- (Victory) Mails that grew out of a critical need that developed during the war years.

In the early stages of the conflict, military personnel sent and received sizable quantities of letters, such correspondence greatly boosting troop morale. It was said that morale and mail were one and the same. However, a massive letter jam eventually caused interference on ships and planes that carried critical supplies for the war effort.

Mail was frequently delayed by being temporarily stored in warehouses until space could be acquired on cargo vehicles. To combat this dilemma, the post office and the military jointly devised an innovative process that reduced mail delivery abroad from several weeks to about 12 days.

Between June 15, 1942 and April 1, 1945, the military processed over a billion V-Mails – single 4.25 by 5 inch one-sided sheets of paper, containing a gummed edge along one side, which folded into ready-to-mail letters. The outside envelopes displayed a large “V …- Mail,” the three dots and dash being Morse code for the letter “V.”

These “five-minute furloughs,” as they became known, contained explicit instructions on the back with this caveat: “The only V-Mail that is undeliverable is that which is not properly addressed.” They sold for a dime a dozen and were readily available at post offices and stores – stationery, drug, department and 5 & 10 (cent). The writer’s message could not exceed one page; additional pages had to be sent as separate V-Mails.

The sender was directed to write neatly and, as an extra precaution, to print the “To” and “From” information in the blocks at the top so as to insure readability for delivery. The left top of the letter contained the censor’s stamp. This individual had the authority to cut out or blacken information that was considered classified. After the letter was written, it was folded, licked, sealed and deposited in any regular mailbox.

Members of the Armed Forces were granted gratis delivery, but others required a 3-cent stamp for ordinary mail or a 6-cent one for airmail. The post office microfilmed each war letter, reducing it to thumbnail size, onto a continuous roll of film containing other V-Mails. The paper copy was then destroyed.

The rolls were summarily sent overseas to one of several processing centers where each letter was converted back to its original paper size and forwarded to the designated military person. This clever process reduced 37 mailbags weighing 2575 pounds to a single one of only 45 pounds. An ad from that era proclaimed that 1700 V-Mails could easily fit inside an empty cigarette pack.

Dad’s 17-line handwritten note expressed his sincere desire for a speedy conclusion to the lingering hostilities: “I am hoping to hear good news about Germany one of these days soon. It seems that everything depends on her surrender. Sometimes I wish I were over there. I’d get a more satisfying feeling about it all.”

On May 7, 1945, Germany surrendered unconditionally to the Allied Forces, bringing both the war and the V-Mail program to a much-celebrated finale. The unique little letter patriotically served our country well. 

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Merrill Moore, former anchorman at WCYB TV, attempted for years to learn the truth about a purported military plane crash in East Tennessee during World War II. 

Eugene “Jeep” Jones, former chief engineer at WETB Radio and a friend of Moore, recalled hearing about a P-51 Mustang going down on Coffee Ridge in Unicoi County. The newsman’s first big break occurred in 1987 while working on a television story regarding the apple orchards on Coffee Ridge.

Merrill remarked, “The ridge was the location of many orchards in the early part of the 20thcentury, but over the years, hard times and high costs had forced most growers out of business. The theme of the story I was working on centered on the fact that only seven orchards remained. Brothers Harley and Merley Willis owned one of the few remaining ones. During the interview, I mentioned about the tale of the downed plane. Merley said, ‘You see that tree up there on the hill and that sunken area next to it? Well, that’s where the plane hit.’”

The two young boys were sitting on their front porch one afternoon during a severe rainstorm and heard what they believed to be a truck out of control. Suddenly, an airplane descended through the fog, crashed and exploded within 200 feet of their house, sending a ball of flames across the field and setting their barn on fire. As the boys ran to put out the blaze, they unexpectedly spotted the slightly injured pilot, a Lt. McKinsey, floating earthward in a parachute.

A thorough investigation by Army personnel ensued over the next three days. The aircraft was determined to be P-39 Bell Airacobra plane. Additional facts about the event occurred in August 2002 while Merrill was working at the Appalachian Fair. Ms. Helen Edwards, who grew up in Coffee Ridge, recognized the popular TV newscaster and began talking with him.

Merrill questioned her knowledge of the crash: “She said her mother kept a journal on everything that happened and felt she surely would have written something about it. She promised to go home and try to find it.”

True to her word, the lady returned to the fair a couple of days later and handed Merrill a piece of paper. She had located the journal containing this handwritten entry: “An airplane crashed in Jasper Willis’ field on June 17, 1943. It was a P-39 pursuit plane with a pilot. He bailed out in his parachute. As he left the plane, he hit his arm and broke it twice. He was taken to the hospital in Johnson City, Tennessee. Horace Higgins took him to Erwin, and an ambulance took him to Johnson City. The pilot had started from Charlotte, NC, headed for Knoxville, Tennessee. The plane had four machine guns and one cannon. The plane was blown up and the propeller and cannon were driven seven to nine feet into the ground.

“Government officials arrived on June 18 to guard it until the truck and wrecker came from Charlotte. On June 20th, they picked up what they wanted to get and pulled the propeller and cannon out with a winch. The first plane to crash on Coffee Ridge Creek, 14 miles south of Erwin. Written June 20th, 1943.”

Mystery solved. 

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