It's Safer Being a Dog

Dear Boo and Bubble,

Yesterday was Veterans' Day – a day set aside to honor all of the men and women who have served our country in the armed forces. Over the history of the United States, there have been three “conscriptions,” more commonly known as the “draft,” where young men registered with the government in order to fill vacancies in the various divisions of the forces which could not be filled through voluntary means. Of course, during war, these numbers swelled. The last iteration of the “draft” happened in 1940 in the build up to World War II. It lasted until 1973 when we went to an all-volunteer Army. However, the Selective Service System remains in place today as a contingency plan. All young men between 18 and 25 have to still register so that a “draft” can be readily implemented if needed.

Both of your grandfathers served under the last conscription – PopPop in the Coast Guard and Captain in the Army National Guard. Captain actually was a member of the Selective Service Board for 25 years for the 4^th Congressional District in South Carolina. Had there been a need, he would have been involved in the call up of young men to serve.

Your great grandfather Schaefer was part of what is historically described as “The Greatest Generation,” those people who fought in World War II. In 1941, he had just finished law school and was in the process of opening a practice in Greenville. He and Mamaw were engaged to be married and she busily planned their wedding in Houston, Texas. The attack by Japan of Pearl Harbor on December 7 of that year changed their personal trajectory just as it did for the entire world.

Granddaddy was drafted by the Navy into what was called the “Ninety-Day Wonder School,” an intensive course of study for lawyers in the service assigned to the Judge Advocate General Corps. He hastily left Greenville to his station at the Northwestern Training School in Chicago where he immersed himself in the military system of both defense and prosecution of transgressions that servicemen might commit and in the rules of courts martial.

Mamaw found herself having to dismantle the wedding in Houston and move everything to Chicago. She and your great, great grandmother Eva Bethany, traveled by train for over 24 hours. Other members of the wedding party sacrificed time and money to make the trip as well. On May 14, 1942, she and Granddaddy said their vows to each other at the Howe Chapel on the campus of Northwestern University.

From 1942 until the beginning of 1945, Granddaddy's tour of duty kept him in the United States, out of harm's way in the battlefronts of both Europe and the Pacific. He and Mamaw stayed in Chicago for a while and then transferred to Miami. In early 1945, Granddaddy was given the option to stay in Miami or join the JAG officers in Okinawa, an island in the Pacific that the United States captured from our enemy Japan. He was conflicted, not wanting to leave Mamaw but also not wanting to be so selfish that he would never put himself at risk as so many other men had done. After a long, serious deliberation, he determined to go to Okinawa.

Granddaddy and Mamaw packed up their few possessions and headed West to Houston where she would stay with Eva until he came home. Mamaw took him down to the station and put him on the train. I'm sure it was a heart-wrenching moment – with her waving to him from the platform as the conductor yelled “All Aboard!” and the cars jolted with the engine pulling forward, the wheels silent at first until their speed obtained a rhythmic “clicketty-clack.” From within, granddaddy watched as Mamaw's figure diminished – oh, such a sweet precious sight – until she vanished into his memory.

Little did he know that she was carrying his child. They had always talked about having a family after the war. But she had determined otherwise – lest she never see him again. Your great Uncle Bryant was born on November 6, two months after the war ended, while Granddaddy remained on Okinawa.

Right before that, on October 9, a typhoon named Louise pounded the island with such a force that 12 Navy vessels sank and 222 were grounded. Thirty-six people died and forty-seven were listed as missing after the storm. As the typhoon raged, Granddaddy took refuge in a Quonset hut with several other men. When the storm surge hit, water began seeping into the hut along with snakes and wharf rats. All of the creatures – men, snakes, rats alike– huddled in their own corners with one thought on the collective mind.......survive the storm.

Years later, at 3 Lakecrest, Granddaddy was in his bed sound asleep. Our cat Jinks found the door to the bedroom slightly open and stealthily – without a sound – pushed it enough to slink inside. One hop onto the chair, another to the bedside table placed him within sniffing distance of Granddaddy's slight snore. Gingerly, as cat's are prone to do, Jinks tested the bed with a paw before making his way onto it and across Granddaddy's body.

BAAAAH-------LAM!!!!

In an instant, Jinks had been hurled across the room and slammed into the wall with such a force, one could hardly believe that it came from an unconscious man. The noise woke Granddaddy and he was shaking. Jinks screeched and raced out of the bedroom.

Apparently, the cat walking across him had subconsciously taken him back to that hut in the middle of Typhoon Louise, with the water rising, and he thought one of those wharf rats was attacking him. Poor cat – never went back in that bedroom again!