RAPID CITY - During World War II, Dorothy Clements did what a lot of Custer girls did. She wrote to the soldiers.

When one of those soldiers showed up on her doorstep while home on a furlough, the 15-year-old Dorothy fell in love.

The couple married when Dorothy was 16 and her "soldier," Earl "Carl" Clements, left for war. Luckily, he was gone for less than a year. Later, Clements also served during the Korean War.

Though they hardly knew each other when they wed, the Clements have been married for 62 years. They have seven children together and now live in Rapid City.

Thinking back, Carl has just one explanation why Dorothy accepted his proposal, even though she hardly knew him. "Boys were scarce around Custer," he said with a sly smile.

While her husband served, Dorothy returned to Custer to live with her parents. She worked at a candy shop, sending Carl $2 from each paycheck and putting $5 in the bank.

When Carl returned, the couple moved to his hometown of Philip. Later, they moved to Custer.

Carl worked in a local sawmill and eventually worked for the Forest Service for almost 30 years.

The Clements said that laughter is one of the biggest factors in their long life together.

"We both enjoy each other," Dorothy said. "The old boy is a lot of fun, once you get him talking."

Here is the letter that Dorothy Clements wrote to the Journal about her war bride experience:

To the Greatest Guy on Earth: Earl E. Clements

World War II began Dec. 7, 1941. Carl joined the U.S. Marine Corps in January 1942. He went to training and was one handsome Marine.

About 1942 or 1943, the Rapid City Journal began to put servicemen's names and addresses in the paper; eight to 10 every day and all of us goofy girls began to write to several of our great servicemen. Of course, we were in high school and we thought we were the cat's meow doing this.

In August of 1944, Carl got a furlough and came to see me, uniform and all. I instantly fell in love. He was from Philip. When the furlough was over, he sent me a diamond ring and my dad had a fit because I was too young. (Sorry, Dad.)

In April of 1945, Carl called from Camp Lejeune, N.C., asking me to marry him as he was going overseas again.

I rode on a troop train with his mother to Chicago, changed stations, went by train to Norfolk, Va., boarded a bus to Wilmington, N.C, and he met us there. We were married two days later at the Catholic church. Eight days later, I received a telegram that he had shipped out and for me to go home.

I bought a ticket to Philip and had only $3 left for food, but I didn't need to worry. Spike Jones and his City Slickers were on the same train. They fed me, gave me orange juice. It was quite a trip to Yorktown, Ohio, where they left the train. Now, the rest of the trip was pretty blah.

My mother drove to Philip from Custer (where I was born and raised) to pick me up and return me to Custer.

Carl and I have been married since April 21, 1945 … Carl's military life continued when the South Dakota National Guard was called in to the Korean War. He was stationed in Alaska.

Carl is now 85 years young and does not believe they will call him again.

He was a corporal in WWII and a master sergeant in the Korean conflict.

We thank God every day for our luck in finding each other and staying together for nearly 63 years.

I was a war bride, but all is well.

- Dorothy Clements

Readers tell their war bride stories

In October, we asked our readers to tell us their stories of being war brides during World War II. We have received a steady flow of letters with remarkably sweet and touching stories. Some of the letters came from the children of parents who met and married during the war. Still more have come from the war brides themselves.

The letters, which continue on Pages D6 and 7, have been a pleasure to read, and we hope our readers will enjoy them as much as we have.

- Lynn Taylor Rick

Joseph and

Virginia Simmons

My parents are Joseph "Donald" Simmons and Virginia Delaine (Watson) Simmons. Don passed away of cancer on Dec. 27, 1997, at the age of 72.

Virginia resides at the Good Samaritan Nursing Home in New Underwood. She suffers from severe dementia, but she still will light up at the mention of her sweetheart, Don. They ranched near Viewfield for many years. Virginia will be 80 on Jan. 11.

Here is their love story:

Don and Virginia were raised on neighboring farms near Milltown.

Virginia said she could always hear the Simmons kids playing across the pasture. They both went to the same country school at Milltown. They both sledded the same hills, ice skated on the James River and went to the dances at the Park Pavilion at Milltown.

My grandmother, Clara Alice Watson ( Virginia's mother), kept detailed diaries. I have the diaries she kept during the 1940s, which detail Virginia and Don's courtship and marriage.

Don and Virginia began dating when Don helped Virginia's dad with harvesting.

When Don joined the Army, Virgina and he wrote frequent letters to each other and sent many pictures back and forth.

When Don came home on a furlough, they were married July 10, 1945, in a small ceremony at my maternal grandparent's home. Don was 20 and Virginia was 17.

My Grandma Watson made the floor-length wedding gown, the flowers Virginia wore as a wreath on her head and also made the bouquet of flowers that she held. She also made the lovely wedding cake.

Don wore his dress Army uniform.

In those days the newlyweds were chivaried, which was great fun.

Don and Virginia spent their "honeymoon" at her parents' home and at his parents' home. His furlough lasted two weeks.

My grandmother wrote in her diary: "Don left today because his furlough is over. It about broke Virginia's heart."

Don and Virginia continued to write frequent letters and send pictures to each other.

Don was on a ship headed to war. While on the ship, they received word that the war was over and the ship was diverted. He was then sent to Korea.

While he served his tour of duty in the Army, Virginia became a nanny for a family in Mitchell. One day she boarded the train to go from Mitchell to Parkston. She was headed home to my grandparent's farm.

What she did not know was that Don was on the same train car. He was in front and she could only see the backs of heads. His Army tour of duty was over, and he was headed home to his sweetheart. Neither one saw each other until they both got off the train at Parkston.

Imagine the surprise on their faces and the joyful reunion they had.

Don and Virginia's wedding picture sits on a shelf in her room at the nursing home. A cloth picture board hangs on the wall by her bed. It holds several pictures of the young lovers.

- Submitted by their oldest daughter, Gale (Simmons) Christensen, Wall

Fred and Lola

It's said that we never cease to love our "first love" we only move on in our lives, and so it was for my father, Fred, and his first love, Lola.

My father was born and raised in the Black Hills. This was where he met and fell in love with Lola. She was 16, he 22. Their favorite pastime was dancing and every Friday and Saturday night would find them with their friends at the dance hall in Pringle. They loved to dance.

At 22 years of age, with WWII in progress, my father and his brother enlisted in the Army. My father served in the European front and also in South Africa. Somewhere in this time frame, Lola met another man and was married. My father received the infamous "Dear John" letter. His heart was broken, of course, but he continued on.

When he was discharged to come home, he received the news that both of his parents had died suddenly. He came home to the Hills briefly where he spoke with Lola over coffee.

He took the high road and moved on to Douglas, Wyo., where he worked in the POW camp. There he met and married his lovely Marie. They returned to the Hills and lived in the Blue Bell area. On a snowy winter day in January, they were involved in a car accident with a snow plow and his Marie was taken from him.

Daddy was severely injured and it took weeks of recovery before he was physically well again.

My father then met my mother Lois and fell in love. They were married and had two girls, myself Lois and Julia. He worked hard in heavy construction and we lived in Casper, Wyo. My mother and Dad were together 47 years when my mother passed away.

In March of 2003, I lost my dad, but before his passing he revisited his first love and this is their story.

In March of 2000, my dad spoke to Lola on the phone for the first time in 55 years and a new chapter began in our lives. They wrote letters and spoke on the phone constantly.

It had been a long time since I had seen my father so happy. I didn't know about Lola, you see. My father was afraid to tell me, thinking I might be upset. He was so nervous about it that shortly before he and Lola were to meet again, he suffered a small but significant stroke.

I received a phone call from Lola, who explained their story briefly but also told me my dad was ill. I'd spoken to him each day but he never said he was ill. I went immediately to the house and then took Daddy to the hospital.

My husband and I and Lola determined to continue this love story. My husband Brian picked Lola up at the airport on the appointed day with the pink rose as the prearranged signal and then whisked her to the hospital for their reunion. It was a beautiful time and I loved her as soon as we met; something in her smile and eyes. I will always remember my father's face when he saw her on that day. Joy, love and tears.

Lola and my dad had 20 months together. They began to dance again Lola stayed with my dad throughout his rehab. They traveled together to see friends and revisit the area they grew up in. Lola returned to California in the fall with many plans for further visits and travel, and they did travel and visit many times.

On Jan. 31, 2003, however, my father suffered another stroke. This one was not one he could recover from.

My mother always told me, "Your father is a survivor." I guess that's why he came through so many things. He tried to live his life the best he knew how. He loved and was loved by many, all of us are better for it.

The last six days of his life, he relied upon my sister and me to care for him. We bathed him and turned him and loved him. We had many phone calls and had them talk to Daddy. When Lola would call, his eyes would flit back and forth under his eyelids and his breathing would change and become faster. I know he recognized her voice even in his coma. At 3:10 a.m. March 7, 2003 … my father stepped into eternity.

The song from "Titanic" sums up the relationship between Lola and my dad, "The Heart Will Go On." It does for each of us. My sister Julia, myself, and his first love, Lola.

- Submitted by Lois

Carrico, Custer

War bride Dorothy Hall

I met the man who would become my husband while I was visiting my aunt in Grimsby in 1943. We were married in April 1945.

He was stationed in Grimsby, Lincolnshire, and I lived in Middlesborough, North Yorkshire. It was a long distance courtship which, during the war, was not easy what with packed trains and bombing raids. I remember with gratitude the leftover food packages which the cook in the mess hall would give me to take home after a visit to the base.

We were to be married in February of 1945 but his leave was canceled. He had orders for duty in France. Fortunately his unit was put on hold and eventually we married in April. He was sent to Germany shortly after that.

After the Armistice was signed in Europe, he returned to Rapid City and I followed in April 1946. 1 was sent to a German prisoner of war camp near Salisbury where many of the war brides were sent prior to taking a ship to New York.

Then there was the train journey to South Dakota which was amazing. America was so vast after living in Britain. I began to think I would never arrive in Rapid City. The houses were different being made of wood for the most part. The food was different and after many years on a diet of 1,000 calories a day, there was a lot of it.

Although we were all speaking English, I was often misunderstood because so many words carried a different meaning. It was sometimes quite embarrassing. I mean a "bum" in England is a "rear end" in Rapid City and the list of bloopers I made is long.

Sadly, my husband died after a fall from a horse after only 25 years together.

- Submitted by Dorothy Hall, Rapid City

Dale and Barbara Francis

The following is an excerpt from the memoirs of Barbara Francis. Here she tells of meeting her husband, Dale Francis:

When the Women's Army Auxiliary Corps (WAAC) was started, I decided to join it. At first my father didn't like the idea, because my two brothers were already in service and he thought that was enough for one family, but he didn't oppose me. My motives were to serve my country - in any capacity, preferably something exciting like being a spy, still a romantic, to have a job and to look over the husband situation….

We were sent to Big Springs, Texas, south of the Panhandle, in west Texas - interesting flat country where you can see the horizons for miles and miles away.

There I was assigned to the Public Relations Office, because I was the only WAAC who had any semblance of newspaper experience, that being a year of journalism in high school.

I arrived early in the office and found my desk, my first assignment being to write up the arrival of the WAAC detachment for the local Big Springs paper. Then a sergeant came in and sat down at the desk next to me. He was real cute, dark-haired, not too tall, sort of stocky, quite good-looking and rosy-cheeked. I had seen his jacket with the staff-sergeant stripes on it hanging on his chair before he had come in and had wondered what he was like, not really having any portentous feelings about what he might matter in my future life, but sort of vague ones nevertheless.

I found that I had to ask him questions to help me every once in awhile and he was most eager to help, a most pleasant fellow. When the day was over, I asked him where the Post Exchange was since I had to go buy something. He said he was walking right past there and he would show me personally.

When we got there, across the street was the post theater, which he pointed out to me, and I said, "Oh, what's playing? I haven't been to a movie in so long."

"Would you go with me this evening?" he asked eagerly. We still kid each other, now and then. He saying how I hinted, I saying how eager he was for the opportunity to ask me for a date.

Anyway, that started it. And from then on, it was every night except when he or I was on CQ, and if I was on CQ in our orderly room he would pay me a call, bringing me ice cream.

In a week, he had decided we had so much in common, so many of the same ideas and ambitions in life that he proposed. In a few more weeks he was getting mad and impatient because I would not give him an answer, but I couldn't make up my mind. I knew he was desirable husband material, perhaps all that I could expect, but I felt backed into a corner. I wrote home to a girlfriend, "I have at last met a fellow I don't think I'm going to get away from."

- Submitted by Marianne Fridell, Custer

Garrett and Marietta Kimball

My story goes back to the spring of 1941. I graduated from high school in May of that year and had dated a young man of 23, Garrett Kimball, who had worked for my father on the farm.

This was at the time they were drafting young men into the service for a year. All young men reaching 18 had to sign up and be classified for the draft. He was called to report in June and go into basic training. The year he signed up for was extended in December after the bombing at Pearl Harbor to serve until the end of the war.

He was in the infantry and while in the States they were trained in several areas. Our lives were governed by the service. We lived for letters and an occasional furlough. He was planning on coming home at Christmas in 1941 to give me my diamond and the furlough was canceled so he mailed me my ring.

We decided we would be married the next year. He came on a seven-day furlough on the train on a Friday and had our blood tests done and were married on Saturday at the church manse in Rapid City. My sister and her husband were our attendants, and our wedding supper was at my parents' home.

He went back to camp and went from there to desert maneuvers in Yuma, Ariz. They didn't have housing for the wives so we were encouraged to stay home.

The following spring they were sent to San Luis Obispo, Calif., where they stayed three months before they were shipped overseas.

It was at this time I quit my secretarial job in Rapid City and rode a bus three nights and two days to California. We were able to rent a one-bedroom apartment for the time we were there. He shipped out from San Francisco for the South Pacific. He served in Hawaii, New Guinea and the Philippines.

I went back to Rapid City and was fortunate to have my job back and spent my time with other women "war wives" as we were called. We had a sewing club and we went to a few movies. Our lives depended on letters and my husband spent a lot of the time in combat.

When the war was over in August, they were taken into Manila to wait for a ship home. He finally sailed for home in October and arrived in San Francisco late October. He sent me a telegram and the next night he called me after being gone for two and half years.

He arrived home on Nov. 4, 1945, and we celebrated our third wedding anniversary on Nov. 14, 1945. We had been together three months.

- Submitted by Marietta Kimball, Spearfish

Robert and Eva Clark

My parents were Robert and Eva (Hill) Clark. They had a story that was told over and over again in family gatherings, and on each anniversary, about how Dad proposed to Mom.

Bob and Eva met in college at Black Hills Teachers College and dated while in school there. They loved to dance at the Pavilion in Spearfish Park. Then in 1940, Bob decided to enlist in the Army Air Corps to become a pilot. His basic training was in Texas at Kelly Field and when that was over he got orders to ship out to the Philippines.

Bob and Eva had corresponded some after he left but she thought he had lost interest. In the fall of 1940, Eva took a job teaching in a rural school near her hometown of Vale. Teachers could teach with only two years of college at that time.

Bob was shipped out of San Francisco on a troop ship headed toward the Philippines when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. The ship turned around and brought the troops back to San Francisco. Bob was then sent orders to go to Randolph Field in Orlando, Fla., to help train other pilots for the war effort.

He flew his plane home and landed in Spearfish at the Clyde Ice Field. He took his car from his parents' house in Spearfish and drove to Eva's rural school. He knocked on the door wearing his Army Air Corps uniform in the middle of the afternoon.

She, of course, was delighted and surprised to see him. They kissed at the door in front of her giggling class. Bob proposed to her then and she accepted.

When school was out the next May, Eva boarded a bus alone, rode to Orlando where Bob met her at the bus station. That was on Sunday. They were married the next Tuesday in the chapel on the base there. Eva met her maid of honor and the groomsman the day she got married. No members of either family were there. Bob always said that it was "just one of those quick war marriages, it would never last!"

Well, it did last for 53 years till his death at age 75. I thank God that the event at Pearl Harbor turned his boat around and brought my dad back to my mother. I have a hunch that they probably would have found each other anyway.

This rich tradition has sustained our family through the good times and the tough times. They presented a united front all the time I was growing up.

- Submitted by Judy Lindskov, Rapid City

Bill and Velda Bishop

I was a 13-year-old Black Hills small town girl when the War started in December 1941. I was an eighth-grader.

My dad hired out to the Corps of Engineers and went to Black Hills Ordnance Depot - eight miles south of Edgemont. It was a small ranch community. They moved all houses and families and built an ammunition storage facility.

In June 1942, the family moved (due to) very poor housing as the government didn't get much housing till 1943.

In November 1943, I met Bill, the storekeeper's son. He was on leave from Great Lakes Navy Training Station. We were friends right away and went to picture shows, ice skating and had a good time.

Bill returned to duty at Roanoke, Va. He shipped out on the USS Shangri-la. We stayed in touch. He had a leave once more. Then, in February 1945, he was discharged. He went to work at the Ordnance. I was 16 years old and crazy about my soldier.

December 1945: We decided to marry on Christmas Eve. So my dad and a girlfriend went (with me) and we married at a justice of the peace. My mother was driving truck hauling bombs and had no time off. She baked a cake. It fell. We all laughed and had ice cream sandwiches. My little brother thought it was great. I quit school and we were very happy.

We have three great sons, three grandkids. On Dec. 24, we will have been married 62 years.

-Submitted by Velda Bishop, Rapid City

Marvis and

Florence Hogan

In 1996, Marvis Hogan wrote the book "Fifty Years on Main Street." The store that he and his wife Florence started in Kadoka in 1946 was celebrating it 50th year in business in that year. Marvis passed away in January of 1997. Florence continues to reside in Kadoka. Hogan's Hardware is still open, operated by their daughter, Randi, and Don Oyan.

An excerpt from the book tells of their wedding in 1943 when Marvis was serving in the Air Corps:

In October of 1943 I came home on leave from the Air Corps and we were married on the 28th of that month in Omaha, Neb.

She came back and worked again for a while at the AAA office. When she became pregnant with our first child, she stopped her employment there and lived with her sister, Adele. And that is where the financial where-with-all for the start of our first business came from.

When I became an officer in the Air Corps, I sent Florence an allotment of $275 a month. She deposited that in a savings account, and spent absolutely not one penny of that allotment. She worked at various occupations, mostly babysitting for her sister, and so that nest egg was there on my return from the service.

I know of no other World War II bride that saved every penny of her allotment, so we had the princely sum of $2,400 to do with when I came back.

- Submitted by Randi Oyan, Kadoka

Dave and

Janice Moore

I met my husband, David, as he lived as our neighbor seven miles away. He went off to war and when he came back home from Germany, he looked so great and handsome and we dated.

He was always so kind and nice to me. We were married and still we have been married 58 beautiful years and we pray for lots more. We have four beautiful children. We also have been blessed with 10 grandchildren and five great-grand children.

- Submitted by Dave and Janice Moore, Vivian

George and Lorraine Roselles

It was a time of big foreboding of what was happening in the world news - as felt by whoever was paying attention to world news. I happened to have a speech class in high school and gave an extemporaneous speech on "Why are we selling scrap iron to Japan, who is using it to make arms?"

We found out on Dec. 7, 1941 - Pearl Harbor Day.

It put life into a fast lane. So we married young, and then I was left with a very smart little boy, who knew his father was in "Camp-Maxi-Tex-as!" (he could say at 15 months).

George was "greeted" in 1943 by the Army in field artillery, and went overseas in 1944. I wrote every day, and sent care packages and pictures - even a cake packed in popcorn for his birthday. It was a very long separation. No way to know where he was and later knew he was in the Battle of the Bulge.

The movie by that name had a scene where Ricardo Montelban was in his sleeping bag, covered up with snow so everyone was looking for him and he was sleeping. That was exactly what happened to George during the real battle. I always thought someone who was there wrote that script!

But, on the home front, then there were no support groups. Wives had to make it alone - unless they had parents or relatives near. I did have parents, but lived alone in a little rental house, $8 a month rent, utilities about $3 and $5 - on an allotment of $80 at first, then $100 when George went overseas.

I do remember needing a winter coat and had to have an account in my father's name so I could buy the coat on time payments. We had ration books for food - sugar, canned goods, meat, shoes and gas for my father's car - also tires. I didn't eat much, and weighed a hundred pounds. My son only wanted "Cherrioats." There were a few other "war wives," and we sometimes cooked and ate together.

We saw a lot of "war movies." One I remember: Bette Davis singing "They're Either Too Young or Too Old!" And I still react to the war songs: "White Cliffs of Dover," "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition," "I'll Be Seeing You" - sad, "It's Been a Long Long Time" and many more.

Three years - that's how long we were alone, but at least he came home with only a minor injury. He fell off a vehicle and hit his back on a curb. He didn't report it, because he would have been removed from his unit after treatment and put into the infantry.

He had a bad experience in Rapid City. When a plane flew over, he dived down some stairs - because he was strafed by a machine gun in a plane. That was before they called it "post stress trauma."

Things were so different in that war. I was really weary of war, but little did I know how many more were to come later! George was called for the Korean War, because he was Co. E 109th Engineers - but after three months, they sent him home - too many dependants (three sons and me).

He spent 23 years in the National Guard - now I have two grandsons who have been to Iraq. One is another Sgt. Roselles. The other is taking training for being an officer.

And I am still war weary.

- Submitted by Lorraine Roselles, Lead

Dennis and Maye Stout

It was harvest time in1939 and I was helping my mother cook for the threshing crew. I had just received my State General Certificate with which I could teach in any grade school and ninth grade in South Dakota.

There was always a need for more help on the farm at this time of the year so Dad hired a couple of fellows who had called from town looking for work. We saw no more of them after that job was done until the next September when the one from Kadoka, Dennis, came with my folks when they came for me after school on Friday.

He managed to be around often and by late 1941, we were thinking of marriage. He would be 28 in January and they were not taking the 28-year-olds into the service. We were planning to wait until after the last of January in 1942. Pearl Harbor put a stop to that. He was inducted in March.

Following basic training in Camp Wallace, he was sent to Camp Hulen to begin an AntiAircraft Unit. A hurricane slowed induction because of damage to the housing. My husband was sent to a school in Akron, Ohio, for directors of the guns. Just before Christmas he called me, saying, "Meet me in Chicago and we will go to Texas and get married."

I went. We were married Jan. 6, 1943, in Bay City, Texas. He went to Camp Hulen and I lived in an old hotel in Blessing, Texas. He could get to see me on Saturday afternoon and on Sunday.

Late February, the outfit was transferred to Camp Cook in California. That is now Vandenberg Air Base. I and another wife followed by bus to Lompoc, Calif., where we found housing. Here the fellows had Saturday off so we could just being tourists and of course enjoying our time together. He even got a 1930 Model A so we could do a better job of getting around,

When they were given their orders to go overseas, I called my father who came by bus from Reliance to drive me home.

My husband's outfit went to New Guinea and went from the tail end along the top to the other end and then to the Philippines, which is where they were when the war ended. He got home during Christmas vacation. I was still teaching school which I continued until retirement after 37 years.

- Submitted by Maye Alma Stout, Kadoka

Forrest and Helen Batchelder

"She has nylons on."

That is what I heard whispered from the pews as I walked down the aisle in a white kneelength wool dress in a very large, stone Lutheran church.

I, Helen Strom, from Scenic, was being married that very warm, humid day in Columbia, S.C. to Tech Sergeant Charles Forrest Batchelder.

Forrest, too, was from Scenic. He had made all of the arrangements from the beautiful white bouquet of flowers that I carried down the aisle to the formal dinner and dance that followed and the honeymoon at Myrtle Beach. I remember being so proud of all of his planning.

It was June 13, 1944. I had just completed a year of teaching in Sturgis, and took a train to join Forrest in South Carolina. No family member of his or mine could afford to travel with me.

The nylon stockings were very special as nylon and silk were commandeered by the government for the making of parachutes and tires. I wanted to wear a white dress and my wool dress with hand embroidery was the only one I had. I not only brought a wool dress to this humid, hot climate but I had traveled on the train with a winter coat. None of this seemed to matter, however, as this prairie gal had to be with her sweetheart in time of war.

- Submitted by Helen (Strom) Batchelder, Rapid City

Billy and Verena Critser

Easter Monday, 1946. My sister and I were leaving the opera house in Zurich. We had seen a very funny operetta, "Im Weissen Schonell." It had rained and we should have hurried to get to the streetcar for home, but we had too much fun singing the songs from the play and we missed the last of the streetcars. We had to walk at least three kilometers.

Heading down Bahnhaf Street, a car slipped on the wet road and just about hit us.

Three American soldiers were coming our way. They must have seen the near accident. They stayed and asked if we were all right. I could not talk much English, but my sister learned it in office school.

She told them we needed some protection on our way home. (It was an unheard of thing for her to do. We did not talk to strange men normally.)

Well, the three soldiers started walking with us. We soon found out they were very homesick. They had pictures. We stopped under every streetlight and looked at parents, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles and cousins as well as horses, cows, pigs and farm machinery.

By the time we reached our house, we had heard the stories of three farms, three families and three small towns in America. The boys Billy, Tom and Steve said they had a good time and asked for a date to go to the movies the next day. They would give us a call where to meet them. Well, as things went, we got a call from the Red Cross to meet a French girl. They sent us that evening and we could not be home. We told our father what to say when the soldiers called to meet us at the station. Papa forgot the words and told them in German, which they didn't understand.

My sister and I waited for the train from Paris and here came Billy and Tom. They had been thinking we stood them up and just by chance, walked by then.

It was too late for a movie. So we all just had a milkshake and a visit. We promised to send the boys off on the train the next day at noon as they were headed back to Italy.

Noon hour was short, we would only have time to change streetcars at the station, but for the first time our streetcar we needed to get on left before we got there and we had to wait 10 minutes for the next one. So we went to say goodbye to the boys. They were waiting for us with red carnations and very glad we came as it was just minutes until the train left.

Next day I got a postcard from Billy, sent from the first station the train had stopped. It said, "Love, I will write," and he did. I got a letter every day. In the third letter, he did write, "…after we are married."

It all was fine. I fell in love with Billy and his letters. He planned to come back to Switzerland on his next leave. Then came the letter (saying) he was going to be shipped home and would send for me. I was not about to promise to go to America without knowing Billy better than I did. So I was going to Italy.

Visas were hard to get but the lady that lived downstairs in our apartment house turned out to be the Italian consensus secretary and I got a visa. I did buy a ticket to Livorno, where Billy was stationed.

I was told I had to change trains in Geneva. What they didn't tell me was that the dining car would be disconnected in Milan. I did have dinner before that time, but when it got time for super I had nothing. Everyone on the train pulled out sandwiches and coffee. All I had were some bananas in my suitcase. I was bringing them to Billy.

I know they were hard to get, but I did not know there had been no bananas in Italy for nearly four years. When I did take that banana out all at once everyone wanted to trade for it. One lady did speak German and I did trade my banana for a sandwich to her.

She was a teacher going home to Pisa for a week. Her name was Mary and we got to visit.

She told me we would be in Geneva about midnight and had only a short wait for the train from Paris. It would be over-filled and the only way to get on was to get on the step of the car before the people would get off. The train would leave just as soon as the people had got off. She would find me if I made it on.

No problem. I had jumped so many streetcars, a train was no different.

She was right, the train was packed. I managed to squeeze inside - good I only had a small suitcase. Finally Mary showed up pushing her way through.

Soon the conductor came asking for tickets. "Do you have another banana?" Mary asked me. I did give one to her. She did swing it in front of the conductor. "Do you happen to have an empty compartment?" she asked. He opened the nearest door. Six men were in there. He said to them, "Do you have any reservations?" They said no and out they came, and Mary and I had a compartment all to ourselves for the banana.

Early morning we were in Pisa. Livorno was the next station. Mary gave me her address if I should need any help to call her. In Livorno, I managed to get someone to locate Billy. He was happy to see me; worried where I could stay. All hotels were off limits to soldiers and, as Billy would not let me go ask for a room by myself, off limits to me too.

Finally Billy did drive me to Pisa to Mary's house. For another banana I got a room at her uncle's hotel.

Billy had to go back and I was to meet him at the ice cream factory next afternoon. He was in charge to deliver the ice cream. I know it was quite a walk, but I was used to walking. I started out early after dinner. There was a police block along the road. One of the MPs asked me, "You Billy's girl?" And they told me they would get a ride for me.

So I arrived a bit early to the ice cream plant. Billy was out on a delivery. There was a guard at the plant.

He said, "Off limits."

I said, "I wait."

Finally he said, "I shoot."

I said, "Go ahead."

Then Billy got back. He did take me in his office in the plant entrance. Billy was waiting for someone to bring the empty ice cream cans back and he had to make one more delivery. He said, "You can check the cans if they are clean. If not tell them to clean them." So he could make his run a bit early; off he went. I waited. Sure enough a truck pulled in and they did bring cans back. I checked them. They were clean.

As soon as the truck left, some men came out of the back to get them. Billy had told me they were German prisoners. So I talked German to them. Big mistake. All at once I was surrounded by men wanting to know about what was going on in Germany. Wanting to know if this and that town was badly destroyed. I had a time getting them back to their work.

I waited for Billy. I sat in his chair by the typewriter when an officer came in. He was in a big hurry. He asked if he could use the phone. I said, "Go ahead." He called some general. Then he forgot his gloves and came back to get them. I was glad I had worn a tan skirt and a white blouse that day or there could have been trouble.

Well, Billy came. He got a vehicle and we went for a drive. I wanted to see the ships that were sunk in the harbor. You needed a pass to go there. Billy had one, I did not. I showed the guard my passport. No good. My visa. No good. Well, I had my bicycle license. It looked very official - lots of stamps. That was good enough to let me through. I got to see the harbor. Time went fast. I had to go home.

I know by then Billy was the man for me. Not long after that Billy went home. I waited. It was a long time without a letter. But then they came again. Also one from Billy's mother saying they are waiting for me.

Eight months later, I got a notice from the American consulate that I had a visa. I have to have smallpox shots and a health check from a doctor the consulate sent me to. And then I was told the visa is only good for six months once you pick it up. You should have passage to America before you come and get it.

I went to every travel agency and ship company. The earliest would be one and a half years. It was nearly a year since I had seen Billy in Italy - I was going to America now.

I went to get my visa. I was warned I had only six months to go.

One morning on the way to work I went to the Swiss Air office. I knew Swiss Air did not fly to America, but I went to the counter and said, "I'd like a one-way ticket to New York."

The Swiss Air representative looked at me funny and said, "Who told you?"

I said, "Told me what?"

He said, "I just got a phone call that we have two planes going to New York and passage for 88 people."

I got my ticket. They did not know the day we would go yet and said I just had to be ready. It would be three weeks or so. My dad did not believe me, but three weeks later on a Saturday morning he answered the call for me to be in Geneva on Monday. The plane would leave 6 p.m. I was already packed -even my wedding dress that Mama had made for me.

On Monday, lots of my aunts, my sister and mother came along to Geneva with me. Papa had to open the store so he said goodbye and to come back soon. In Geneva we found out the plan was a B-29 filled without seats. No compressed cabin.

I was sad to say goodbye, but glad to be on my way.

We did fly at 15,000 feet. We stopped in Scotland and then were going to Newfoundland.

Shortly before we got there, we were told to fly at 20,000 feet. Next thing I know I woke up with an oxygen mask on. I had passed out. Later we hit some bad weather and many got sick, but not me.

It was dark when we landed in New York. My neighbor on the flight was an 80-year-old lady to visit her son she had not seen in years. She did take me along to a hotel near Central Station.

I had a whole day layover in New York and lots I wanted to see. I walked a long ways looking at the huge buildings, and I wanted to see the Statue of Liberty.

I asked a policeman how to get there and found out. It was a long ways off. Too far for me to go, so I decided I wanted a subway ride. The policeman said the station was at the end of the block. I walked there and I could not see any station, only a small building I thought was a telephone cabin. So I went back to the policeman and told him there was no subway there. He told me to come with him and we walked back.

He said I had to go down to the station. The stations were in that little building. He told me what train to take and soon I was back to the central station.

It was dinnertime and a diner was there. I wanted a sandwich. The lady asked me, "Hamburger?" Well, there is a city in Germany named Hamburg and the people from there are called Hamburgers. So I did think she meant I was from there and said, "No, Swiss." She handed me a cheese sandwich. Well, it was good.

I found a bus to Central Park and enjoyed myself till evening.

The same thing happened at suppertime. The man at that diner said, "Hamburger?" and I said, "No, Swiss." Cheese sandwich again - and the same for dinner the next day.

Did they think that because I came from Switzerland I would only eat cheese?

My train left at 3 p.m. and I was on the way to Chicago. The conductor came by and I asked him when we would be there. He answered "8 o'clock." Then he wanted to know if I want to eat in the dining car. I said no. Later he came again and said last call for dinner.

It was after 8 p.m. and I did think we should be in Chicago very soon. So I asked how much longer it would be. He said, "8 a.m."

I went to the diner. I was not going to eat more cheese. So I told the waiter, "Meat and potato." He did bring a shake and some odd jam. I tried it on the bun. It had not much flavor. The waiter did see it and did bring me ice cream. Later I found out it was Jell-O. Food in America was different.

In Chicago I had to change trains. The one to Omaha had no diner and the lady with the cart had sandwiches and I got cheese again for dinner and supper. From Omaha on I had to change to a very slow train. It did take all night to get through to Nebraska. Beside me only two men were in the car. We talked most of the time.

It was just about 7 a.m. when we pulled into Oxford, Neb., and, to my surprise, Billy and his whole family were waiting for me. I was tired; I had made it to Billy.

We got married on the first of November.

We had 52 years together full of adventure. Two girls, seven grandkids and 10 great-grandkids with two more by the end of the year.

- Submitted by Verena Critser, Sturgis