Life History of DuWayne G. Squire - BYU, Kim, Brad, A New Job and a New Home

The decision to go back to school was definitely inspired, and I have often thanked the Lord for His prompting me to do so. Not only do I feel better about myself for finishing my schooling, but if I had bought a truck, I would have been out of a contract for it within a year after purchase. Thell and Lyman soon found their trucks scheduled for fewer and fewer trips because the dispatcher put several of his own trucks on for Dubuque and he would schedule his trucks around them. They soon had to sell their trucks.

I enrolled for the winter quarter at BYU in January, 1954. We found a basement apartment in Henry’s home in Provo and moved our belongings and family there. The apartment only had one or two little windows near the ceiling, and so it was a very depressing place for Helen and Morris.

I let DeLance help me choose the classes I should take the first quarter, and he really did a number on me. He suggested that I take an algebra class, an English class, and accounting class, and then two or three other classes. For someone who had been out of school for seven years, that was a mighty taxing course. My algebra and accounting classes kept me up until midnight every night, and on weekends, I had to study all day Saturday and Sunday, taking time out to eat and go to Church only.

I made it through the first quarter getting B’s and better. We were able to get an apartment in the old Wymount Village marrieds’ center. They had moved about ten two-story army barracks in an area just east of the campus, and we got a one bedroom apartment in one of them. Kim was born on May 23, 19--, and we were able to get a two bedroom apartment in which we lived for the next two and one-half years.

I had to work hard and long hours to keep up a B+ average as I found it very difficult to compete with the smart returned missionaries and youth just out of high school. I was called as the ward clerk in the BYU Wymount Branch, and that took all day Sunday to keep up with the typing of all tithing receipts and payment of all bills. We had 200 families living in the Wymount Branch, and I think that most of them paid tithing once a week. The Wymount Branch was the first BYU branch, and after about a year or so, they changed us to the first BYU ward, and I served under the bishop as ward clerk.

We found it difficult to live on the G.I. Bill, and this was compounded when Kim was born and we didn’t have any health or group insurance. I had scoured Provo and Orem looking for a job, but with 10,000 students at BYU, jobs were scarce. Service stations only paid 60-75 cents per hour, and I couldn’t even get one of those jobs. I finally went to Central Utah Block and told Sterling Jacobsen, the owner, that I would go to work for him for a couple of weeks without any guarantee of pay, and after that, he could pay me whatever he felt it was worth or let me go. He agreed and seemed pleased with my work and paid me about $2 per hour as I recall. I did the mechanical maintenance work on his delivery trucks, fork lifts, drag lines, and block making equipment. I worked some evenings and then all day Saturday, and when equipment broke down, I worked some Sundays. After a year or so, he moved me into his office as their accountant. During this time, I had to sell our five acres of land in LaVerkin to meet all of our bills and stay in college.

Brad was born on Christmas day, December 25, 19--. That was sure great timing as I was able to tend the other children while Helen was in the hospital, and she was home by the time the winter quarter started. By going to summer school, I was able to graduate in June, 19--, with a B.S. Degree in Accounting and with Minor Degrees in Finance and Banking and in Economics.

DuWayne's BYU graduation with Helen holding Brad
MJ and Kim

Just before graduation, DeLance told me about a job a friend had told him of in Salt Lake City for Bish’s Sheet Metal Works. I made an appointment to visit with T. A. “Bish” Horne, the owner, and Helen and I drove up to his place on Millcreek Road. We sat out in front and both had sick feelings about leaving Utah Valley, and so we agreed that we didn’t want to accept the job but would show Mr. Horne the courtesy of hearing him explain it to us. Bish was very gracious, and we were very impressed with his beautiful home which he had just moved into within the last year. Bish said that if I wanted the job, he would start me out at $5,000 per year. That was considerably more than I was making at Central Utah Block Co. and the most any of the CPA companies were offering was $3,600 per year to start.

Bish did a good selling job, and we accepted his offer. He even told us we could borrow one of the company trucks to move from Provo. When I told Sterling Jacobsen that I had a good offer and would be leaving his firm after graduation, he was very upset and did much ranting and raving. When I told him how much I would be making at Bish’s, he said that he would bet that the job wouldn’t last very long. I really felt guilty about leaving him as he had really helped me get through school.

DuWayne worked at Bish's Sheet Metal from 1956 to 1995

Helen and I spent the next three weekends in Salt Lake City looking for a home we could afford. The more we looked, the sicker we felt about leaving Utah Valley. Finally, we drove out to Bountiful, and we both immediately felt that this is where we wanted to live. We found our present home and made an offer of $16,000 which was accepted. We began to move our furniture (what there was of it) into the home, and we had just moved in when Mr. Swain called us and said that the bank had turned down our application for a mortgage loan since we didn’t make sufficient income to satisfy the mortgage. I was sick and astounded, and so Helen and I talked to the banker. He explained that since we hadn’t bought anything on time (credit), he couldn’t get a good credit report on us. I told him about our buying the home and land in LaVerkin and how the payments were just over $100 per month and my income was only $130 per month and we never missed a payment. I finally convinced him that it would be easy for us to make the $86 per month payments on this home.

At the time we moved to Bountiful, it had a population of around 5,000. With all the wide open spaces and farmland, we had the feeling we were back in a town like LaVerkin.

Life History of DuWayne G. Squire - National Guard, Trucking and Krystal

I was so excited on the trip from Camp Roberts to St. George that I could hardly restrain myself. What a glorious reunion we had at St. George. Helen, Dad, Mother, and many other family members were there to meet me. I must say that had to be my most memorable and exciting Christmas. I had about ten days leave to get reacquainted with my family and then was stationed at Camp Roberts, California.

At Camp Roberts, I was assigned as a supply sergeant over a unit that played the role of the adversary or aggressor in the training maneuvers at Camp Roberts. It was the most undisciplined unit I have ever had anything to do with. Half of the time they didn’t even wear uniforms. In the days that followed, I began to have chills and fever until one day I nearly passed out at work. My C.O. had no sympathy whatever for my condition and just told me to go to the medical center. While waiting out in the cold to catch a bus, I nearly passed out again. I was so sick that I could hardly hold my head up by the time I got to the medical center. They checked my temperature and found it to be 107 degrees. So they put me to bed. They kept taking blood for samples as they suspected I may have malaria. They would not give me anything for my fever since they said they must catch the blood at the right time to determine if I had the malaria bug. I about died with chills and fever for four or five days before they finally determined that I had malaria. They then gave me quinine and other medication which immediately brought my fever down. In the days that followed, my hair grew out about one-half inch pure white. I suppose that was due to the high fever they allowed me to have for so long. I have always believed that my memory was greatly affected by that week of high fever.

When I finally got back to the unit, they had changed it to a training unit to receive returning veterans from Korea. We would receive about two or three hundred men at a time and for two weeks we would put them through a concentrated basic training course. They would go to the firing range every day, and I had to estimate how much ammunition they would use and requisition enough for each day. It would take a truck or two loaded every day to keep them supplied.

I finally found time to go looking for a place to bring Helen and Morris down to be with me. The closest place I could find was a motel room at King City 50 miles away, and it was very expensive. I got a Saturday and Sunday off and drove to LaVerkin and brought Helen and Morris back to King City. I had to get up at about 5:00 a.m. to be on time at Camp Roberts, and I seldom got home before dark, and so my time with Helen and Morris was still very limited. After about one month, we decided that for the time I was able to be with them it wasn’t worth the high cost of room, food, and gas and so I took them back home on a weekend pass.

After about six months’ time at Camp Roberts, I was able to get an honorable discharge. I returned to LaVerkin and went to see E. J. Graff. He gave me my old job back as a mechanic at Hurricane Motor Co. They started me out at the same pay I was getting before I was called up with the National Guard. I found it very difficult to live on about $16 per day and so began to look for another job. Thell offered me a job driving his diesel truck on long hauls from Dubuque, Iowa, to various places on the west coast.

I began driving for Thell, even though it meant being away from my family for 10-13 day stretches. We would drive to Dubuque, Iowa, and pick up a load of hams and deliver them to San Francisco or Los Angeles. Then we would go somewhere in California and pick up a load of produce and deliver it back in various cities in Iowa, Illinois, Kansas, Missouri, Wisconsin, or Minnesota. This is hardly what I had dreamed of doing while stationed in Korea. In fact, while I was in Korea, I wrote Helen and said that I would never leave my family in LaVerkin if it meant digging ditches for the rest of my life.

Soon after I began driving truck, Helen gave birth to a beautiful daughter on August 29, 1952. We gave her the name of Krystal.

It was soon apparent that Krystal had the same congenital diarrhea problem that took the life of Kirk. It seemed that everything we tried was to no avail in stopping her diarrhea. Again, we were heartsick as we witnessed our sweet, little, delicate, angel daughter suffer.

We vowed that we would not put her through the pain and suffering which Kirk was subjected to at the hands of the university doctors in Salt Lake. We kept Krystal at home and under the supervision of the doctors in St. George and Cedar City. Krystal only lived for about two and one-half months. She died November 16, 1952.

We were very sad, but we were reconciled that it was the Lord’s will that Krystal not tarry long in this life. We had so many friends and family members supporting us that we didn’t suffer to the extent we did with Kirk’s passing on.

We held grave side services and laid Krystal to rest by her brother, Kirk, in the LaVerkin Cemetery.

Kirk & Krystal's Graves

After a year of driving, I had made arrangements to purchase a truck with my brother, DeLance, as a financial partner. About the time I became serious about buying a truck, I began to have trouble with my right knee. The socket would go dry and the vibration of holding my foot on the throttle would nearly drive me crazy with pain. I would go to a doctor in Dubuque each time I got back there, and they would give me shots of cortisone and heat treatments, but my knee seemed to get worse each trip.

Dubuque, Iowa 1952
Thell, DuWayne, and dispatcher, Hank Pratch

I finally decided that the Lord was trying to tell me something, and so I had a talk with DeLance to see if he would feel too badly if I decided not to purchase the truck. He assured me that it was all right with him if I forgot the truck. I told him that I was impressed to go back to school. He suggested that I come up to Brigham Young University and get a degree in accounting.

Another aspect that helped me decide to give up trucking was that I could no longer sleep properly on the truck, and so I wasn’t able to stay awake to drive my share of the time. My inability to sleep on the truck seemed to be related to the fact that John Segler had flipped the truck on its side just North of Holden while I was in the sleeper and then, about a month later, Thell hit his brakes hard just before running into the rear end of another truck while passing through Pomona (City of Industry), California. After being plummeted out of the sleeper twice, I found it hard to get to sleep in the sleeper, and then, when anyone hit the brakes for any reason, I would have to stick my head out the window to see what was going on.

Life History of DuWayne G. Squire - Korean War and Morris (MJ)

DuWayne G. Squire
Sargent First Class, 213 Field  Artillery

As I read this portion of my dad's history I was amazed to realize that he spent his entire 23rd year of life in Korea. At the age of 23 he had to leave his wife who was pregnant with their second child, just days after the loss of their first-born. I have an enormous amount of appreciation for my  parents and the sacrifice they made for our country.

All I can remember about the trip back was how sick I got when the bus was descending down the switchbacks along the Columbia River in Oregon. I remember how I felt quite smug as the driver had someone pass out pills to combat moving sickness. I had never been car sick, and so I didn’t take any medication. I smiled to myself for the first hour as I observed people getting sick with the swerving and swaying of the bus, but then I began to feel lightheaded and soon I was as sick as anyone. It seemed we would never get off that winding, steep road along the Columbia River. I know that I was as happy and relieved as anyone when the bus finally arrived to level and fairly straight roads.

For the next three or four weeks, I was so busy working 16 or 18 hour days (trying to make up for the time I had taken off) in getting us ready for the trip to Korea that I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself or to mourn for Kirk.

We were finally loaded in buses and taken to a port at Seattle. While there, I tried to call Helen to let her know that we were boarding a ship the next day for Korea, but I had a terrible time getting through to her. I couldn’t convince the operator that there was a Hurricane, Utah (which I correctly pronounced “Hare-kahn” as southern Utahns do!). She kept coming back to report that she was unable to locate such a town in Utah. I told her I knew it was there as I had been there many times and that all calls for LaVerkin came through “Hurricane”. In desperation, she finally asked me to spell “Hurricane”. Feeling quite exasperated, I spelled “H-u-r-r-i-c-a-n-e,” to which she promptly replied, “Oh, you mean HURRICANE!” and I said, “That is what I have been trying to tell you for the past half hour.”

The next day, January 26, 1951, we loaded all of our equipment and men on a Henry J. Kaiser “Liberty” ship named “USS General M. C. Meigs” which had just been brought out of moth balls. We spent the next couple of days coming down the coast to a port between Oakland and San Francisco. It was a thrilling experience to pass under the Golden Gate Bridge and sail past Alcatraz in the bay. At this port, we loaded on some more troops and equipment and then headed for Korea.

Once we were out to sea and had time to relax a little and time to think and reflect: I was either heartsick or seasick. I was heartsick in the loss of Kirk and in leaving Helen and my family and, for that matter, in leaving everything that provided my feeling of security. We had heard the stories of the many troops who were slaughtered in Korea and of the many who had been frozen and suffered so greatly during this winter at the Yalu River area. When I wasn’t worried sick or heartsick, I was hanging over the rail heaving my guts out. The food they served was terrible. Every morning for breakfast we had powdered eggs which had a greenish, sick look. That started the day with a queasy stomach. I can’t remember much about what the other food was as I was too sick to try much of it. Needless to say, I lost quite a bit of weight during the 13 days it took us to reach Japan.

The time that I got the sickest was during a heavy storm when the ship was bouncing like a cork for 24 hours. We found out later that the screw or propeller shaft had broken during the storm, and we were out of control for most of the rough water. We heard later that another “Liberty” ship caught in the same storm had broken in two. During that time, the ship was heaving uncontrollably as was I. Not only that, but I suffered with diarrhea also. Once, when I went to the head (latrine) in the bow of the ship, water and sewage were shooting out of each of the toilets as the nose of the ship would descend in the waves and then water about six inches deep would come rushing back on the floor when the bow would ascend. It was a sick, humiliating experience to jump on a seat when the water had stopped geysering out of the toilet and then raise your feet to try to keep them out of the sewage rushing back on the floor. As I recall, I finally gave up in trying to keep out of the mess and took a saltwater shower to try to clean up afterwards. When you are sick enough, I found out that one can overlook six inches of sewage around ones feet.

I got to see my brother Phil a few times, and he told me that they had menus giving them several choices for each of their meals, with lots of steaks and all the milk they wanted to drink. Once, he sneaked me into his private shower for a freshwater shower. That was the nearest thing to heaven I had experienced on the trip.

In crossing the Pacific, we crossed over the International Date Line (February 5, 1951), passed close by Midway Islands, Okinawa, and other islands, and finally arrived in the Sasebo Harbor in Japan. It took 14 days to cross the Pacific Ocean to Japan. We sat out in the harbor for a day while they picked up supplies. One thing that irritated us more than anything was when they drained the ship’s milk tanks and literally made the water white for a mile around us. Milk was one of the things many of us craved the most, and on the trip over, they only served it to the crew and the officers.

We finally got underway down through the Yellow Sea to Pusan, Korea. We could readily see why it was called the Yellow Sea since the water was tinted a light yellow color. They explained the color was due to the yellow mud on the ocean floor.

We had an uneventful trip, and when we reached the harbor at Pusan on February 15, 1951, we dropped anchor out in the middle of the harbor. We spent the evening standing at the rail gazing at the hill rising north of Pusan. The strange, oriental-type trees were silhouetted on the skyline as it was getting dark, and I remember the great empty feeling that filled my soul. I was lonely and frightened as I gazed at that strange scenery while my mind was reflecting on the gory stories I had read and heard about the war in Korea. I don’t know about the rest of the fellows, but I spent a restless night on the ship.

The following morning, we disembarked from the ship, and after unloading our equipment, we climbed in the back of some waiting trucks and took a dusty ride for about 30 miles up into the hills north of Pusan. We set up camp in a high valley where we waited for a month or so until our heavy equipment arrived from Ft. Lewis. We no more than set up our tents before the ladies of the night had set up makeshift quarters of cardboard and canvas down the road about 100 yards. Some from our unit, being of low moral character, soon paid the price and then the penalty for their actions by contracting venereal disease.

While waiting at this location, we were kept busy with maneuvers, teaching us how to use our pistols, rifles, machine guns, Browning automatic rifles, and how to safely (if that’s possible) throw hand grenades. One day, a piece of shrapnel came hissing toward me and hit a rock by my foot. We spent much of our time fighting brush fires on the hillsides which we started with tracer bullets from the machine guns. We also spent much time lined up at the four-holer since our inexperienced cooks served up a lot of dysentery. I don’t know if it had anything to do with it, but one of the cooks was trying to get a section eight discharge by wetting the bed several times a night. They assigned the guards to wake him up every two hours, but somehow he managed to wet the bed between times.
When our M5A1 self-propelled 105 MM Howitzers and other heavy equipment finally arrived, we spent some time packing and reloading our equipment on a ship bound for Inchon Bay. It took a day or two to circle around the coast of Korea taking an evasive course. Upon arrival at Inchon, we were appalled at the damage done on the docks and buildings of Inchon. Our troops had recently landed at Inchon and retook it and then Seoul. We landed at Inchon on April 16, 1951.

We loaded everything on our vehicles and set out for Seoul. It was a scary trip, especially in crossing the Han River into Seoul. The engineers had hastily put up a pontoon bridge to replace the bombed-out, permanent structure. The pontoons were heaving up and down and sideways as we rumbled across them. When we drove through Seoul, we observed that most of the buildings were either leveled or gutted out, and there were many tanks and trucks which had been pushed to the side of the road; some were still smoldering.
We were placed just above Seoul to the northeast just behind the infantry to give them artillery support. Since our Howitzers were mounted on tanks, thus making them very mobile, we were moved to the areas along the front line where there were weaknesses. We were moving mostly up through the valley of the Pukhan River below the Hwachon Reservoir.

Our drinking water came out of the Pukhan River which flowed out of the Hwachon Reservoir and which had many rice paddies draining into it polluting it with the human excrement used for fertilizer. The water was a muddy, brown color, and you could never see the bottom of the cup through it. Once a dead Chink floated into the side of the pump used to get our drinking water.

The greatest news I received while in Korea was the word that Morris was born on April 8, 19--, and that he seemed healthy in every way as was Helen after his delivery. When I received this great news along with continued reports that Morris had no health problems, I found myself walking on the clouds nearly oblivious to the war going on around me. It wasn’t until I experienced such relief, that I realized just how concerned I had been about the threats and continued warnings by some relatives that because of our relationship we would never be able to have any healthy, normal children. How great it was to have a confirmation of our faith in that regard. From the day of this great news, I lived only for the day when I would be reunited with Helen and Morris.

We had some more good news in the form of Timothy Irons, and LDS Chaplain. He came to our unit and set us up to begin having Church services. I was asked to be our unit leader and was to help the other unit leaders in our battalion set up Sunday Schools and sacrament meetings. It really helped our morale and peace of mind when we began holding our meetings. (Through Helen and Bob Daley of our ward, I have been privileged to again meet Chaplain Irons. He is their relative and lives on his ranch in Nephi, Utah.)

We finally pushed the Chinks up above the 38 degree parallel past the Hwachon Reservoir. As we advanced up the river valley, I was horrified to see bloated mules lying in the river. They had been napalm bombed and had run into the river to put out the fire. I was sick to think that for the past two weeks I had been swimming in the river and drinking the water from it.

We passed many dead Chinks who had been burned by the napalm bombs, and I can still visualize one who was sitting up alongside the road with his face badly burned along with the rest of his body. He was wailing until someone came along and shot him. It appeared that the Chinks had an ammunition supply train made up of cars pulled by the mules and oxen when they were bombed and their ammunition exploded.

When we got to the Hwachon Reservoir, I observed from our vantage point that many dead soldiers were floating in its bays. Again, it made me sick to think I had been drinking and diving into the water a few miles downstream.

Things had settled down as the enemy had dug in and so had we. From time to time, I would get an afternoon when I could stop and climb to an outpost where my brother, Phil, was stationed as fire officer to call in artillery fire on the enemy. As we visited, we would watch the enemy on the next ridge where they had dug caves and bunkers. When one would come out to stretch or relieve himself, Phil would call in five artillery shots. I about died laughing at one who jumped up when the first shell landed a few feet away; he was trying to run and pull up his pants at the same time. He kept stumbling and falling, but he dived into his bunker without a scratch.

At this time, I was stationed with the supply unit, and our camp was next to a regiment of Canadian and British soldiers who were waiting to be rotated out as they had been in Korea for several months. One night a colonel came walking into my supply tent and asked me for a change of clothes. While he was changing, he told us that he was assigned as an American advisor to the ROK (Korean Army) which was just north of us about seven or eight miles. They had been hit by the enemy, and the ROK’s broke and ran in all directions. During the chaos, some of the retreating Koreans had stolen his jeep and he was left on his own. He was dirty, hot, and tired by the time he had walked back to our camp. He left us to get a radio and give his report to army headquarters.

That night we saw fires all over the mountains to the north, and they kept flaming up closer and closer to our camp, and there was small arms fire all around us. The British brigade stationed by us was called into action to fill the hole left by the South Korean Army. I heard a few days later that they were ambushed and some were killed by our own artillery fire. The report we heard was that out of the 3,000 or so in the regiment only 18 made it back. During this night, there was utter chaos in service battery, and soon we heard the rumor that Captain James (from Cedar City) had panicked and had his first sergeant get a jeep, and he took off in retreat to the south. The junior officers of the unit were so confused that it took some time until the second in command took some control and ordered us to pack up ready to move out in 15 minutes. My supply helper and I and another fellow who was spending the night with us loaded all of our equipment in the half-track and trailer and then dropped and rolled up the 20-man tent and had it loaded in the 15 minutes allotted.

We pulled out in convoy and headed south. We had gone about ten miles when it began to get light, and so we were told to circle like the old pioneers circled their wagons. The officers were disorganized, and so we just milled around for an hour or so and then action seemed to break out all around us. A navy corsair airplane coming back from a bombing run dropped its wing tanks just before it got to us, and when they hit, they exploded into flame. A ROK antiaircraft battery was about two hundred yards from us, and they opened fire on the plane. Then one of our officers pulled out his pistol and ran to the top of the ditch bank and wildly waved his pistol in the air saying, “Fire! Fire!” I could see the marking on the plane very clearly as it was only about 100 feet in the air above us and so I held my fire but many of the unit opened fire with small arms and the machine guns mounted on their trucks.

Sometime later, the unit received a scorching letter of reprimand for shooting at one of our own planes. Someone had hit an oil line and the pilot had to crash land the plane just out of Seoul.

We finally got regrouped. At about noon, the first sergeant had talked Captain James into returning to find us. We then took inventory of what had transpired and determined that many of the service battery personnel had left their rifles, their tents, all of the food supply for our battalion for the week, and even one jeep was abandoned. Later, we heard that one of our allied groups, the Turks I believe, picked up the food and jeep and other abandoned equipment. In fact, we saw them driving the jeep the next day and they hollered “Thanks!” as they drove past.

Captain James was tried by a military court, and he lied his way out of a court martial by saying that he had retreated to find a safe place for the unit to move back to. The first sergeant testified against him, and he was the loser and was transferred from the unit. I understand that justice has taken its toll on Captain James. Those that have seen him since the war say he is a skeleton of a man and is practically a recluse. He knows the truth and he knows that all of us know the truth.

The North Koreans and Chinks pushed our unit all the way back to the outskirts of Seoul. The first night service battery set up camp just east of Seoul. I was assigned the northeast corner of the perimeter with my half-track since I had a 50-caliber machine gun mounted on a turret. I was assigned all-night guard duty and was told to shoot at anyone that came into the perimeter of our camp. Earlier in the evening as we were traveling, I listened to the radio and picked up some of the air force pilots’ transmissions as they were flying over the area just north of Seoul. They said the hills looked like ant hills because the North Koreans and Chinks were so thick as they were advancing toward Seoul. Needless to say, I was very nervous at my outpost, especially as fires began flaming up all over the hills and kept coming closer and closer to our encampment.

Just before daybreak, I was startled to hear many oriental voices and the padding of many feet coming towards my outpost. My hands were gripping the machine gun handles, and my fingers were on the triggers. I was ready to begin firing, but something told me to hold my fire. I held off until the group was within 20 to 30 feet from me. By then it was starting to get light enough that I could see that they were refugees—old men and women and many little children. I was so relieved that I hadn’t followed my orders to shoot at anyone coming into our perimeter.

We were able to stop the enemy from retaking Seoul, and after a few weeks, we began to advance back to the north, pushing the enemy before us.

One of the highlights of the 213th F. A. Battalion happened as we were advancing north at this time. On May 27, 1951, our firing units rambled into a little valley, Kapyons, and set up camp for the night. The next morning, as some of the men went out behind the bushes to relieve themselves, they found Chinks huddled behind every bush and they began to fire upon them. Soon the whole valley and hillside was moving with the enemy. Our 105 Howitzers were firing point blank at the hillsides, and a short time after it started, the Chinks began to surrender. Our unit took about 800 prisoners as I recall. The Citation stated 830 prisoners taken and another 350 were either killed or seriously injured. The miracle of it all was that we didn’t suffer one fatality in the battle.
Another miracle was revealed as our Intelligence Division began to interrogate the captives they found many totally confused and they kept mumbling that they fired their burp machine guns at close range and our soldiers didn’t fall. It was though they were firing blanks, or that our men were behind a shield.

Our unit was commended and given a Citation by General Van Fleet and President Harry S. Truman, along with papers back home that had big write-ups concerning the battle and the taking of prisoners.

Soon after this, I was given a four day rest and recuperation (R & R) leave. They flew us to Japan in C-45 transport planes. I must say that I was disappointed in many of my friends from our unit who showed a complete lack of morality. It is true there were many temptations as the Japanese girls flocked around every G.I. offering every service from a bath in a geisha house to being partners for the entire leave or until the money ran out, whichever came first. To some that happened on the first night as the girls would get up and take the money and things of value and skip out.

On the first morning that I left the army barracks in Japan, I was surrounded by girls all vying for my money and attention. I finally got rid of all but one who I told I was only interested in finding a good place to buy a camera. She grabbed my arm and pulled me over to a rickshaw, and said, “Get in. I know best place to buy camera.” She told the rickshaw driver something, and he took off on a trot. After about 15 minutes, we started going down narrow streets and alley ways where no one was on the sidewalks or streets; I began to get sick to my stomach as I realized that this girl and the rickshaw driver were probably in cahoots and were taking me someplace where some compatriots would probably slash my throat and take my wallet. About the time I began to get panicky, we pulled up in a narrow alley and stopped. The girl said, “Here is best camera shop.” I looked over at some dumpy cow-barn type shacks lining the street and saw a small window in one that had a camera behind it. I got out and went to a door that was cut about eight inches above the dirt floor and entered. At that point, I was nearly scared out of my britches as a big rat came scurrying from under another door. It nearly ran over me before making a hurried retreat. It was as large as an average sized cat. I was still shaken when a Japanese man came through another door and bowed and asked something in Japanese. I indicated I wanted to see a good camera. He handed me the one from the window, and it wasn’t what I had in mind, and so I handed it back and made a hurried retreat.

Since I didn’t know the way back to the barracks, I had to trust the girl again. I told her that I wanted to go back to the base and that I would buy a camera from the P/X. I was very relieved when we pulled up in front of the base, and I got out and paid the rickshaw driver and tried to give some money to the girl so I could retreat. The girl said no to the offer but insisted that I go across the street with her to a cabaret and buy her a drink. I reluctantly did so, feeling some security in that I was in sight of the base. When we sat down at the booth, about five more girls came screaming and plopped in beside us. Each one was making a bid for my company. I tried to explain to them that I didn’t do those things as I was a Mormon. They were not convinced as they didn’t know what a Mormon was, and they had never heard of Utah. They finally became discouraged and all left except one. She wouldn’t take “No” for an answer. I finally said that I didn’t do those things because I was married. She only laughed at that and countered that married men like it best! When she was convinced I was not going to go with her, she began to tell me her life’s story. She had been living with a soldier from the 25th Infantry Division while he was stationed in Japan. When the Korean War flared up, they called the 25th Infantry Division in and sent them to Korea. She explained that they had a baby and the G.I. sent her money to keep her in their apartment and take care of the baby. Finally, she didn’t hear from him for a while, and so she put the baby in the orphanage and went back on the street. It was a sad tale.
My four day leave was up far too soon, and we were back on the plane headed for Korea. When we got to the landing strip, it was stormed in and so the plane circled the area for an hour or two. As it did so, it would bounce up and down like a feather. I soon found myself lying on the floor heaving my guts up. I wasn’t alone, but that gave me little consolation. What a day—shades of the trip over on the ship.

After my R & R trip to Kokura, Japan, it seemed that things progressed along much more rapidly. We pushed the Chinks and North Koreans up above the magic 38 degree parallel which had separated North and South Korea before the intrusion of North Korea into South Korea. At that point, the fighting slowed down with only minor skirmishes along the established line. Peace talks began at Panmunjom, and after a few weeks, we began to hear rumors of rotation back home.
Finally, the first rotation orders came out and I was not listed on them. The next day or two a supplemental list came out with my name on it, but our C.O., Captain Ford, told me that he would not let me go without a replacement. I was crushed. The next day when I went up to the unit, my brother, Phil, was visiting with Captain Ford. I found out that Captain Ford had sent word to him that if he wanted to see me, he had better come over. He was teasing me about not letting me go home.

It was hard to bid Phil goodbye as I had so hoped that he would be going home with us. Phil said that he had told his C.O. Captain Cox that he would take a step down in rank if he would let him go home with us but all to no avail.

Captain Ford took me aside later in the day and offered to make me a warrant officer if I would sign up for two more years. He said that they would only keep me in Korea for six more months and then I could serve out my time in Japan. I told him in no uncertain terms what he could do with that suggestion.

I found out that the reason I was added to the first rotation list was because I had a son who was seven months old that I hadn’t seen. Also, most of our unit was made up of single men, and so being married gave me a higher priority. The date I was told I was going home was November 15, 1951, which makes it one of the most memorable days in my life.

I sold my chrome-plated 45 pistol and a standard 45 that I had bought earlier hoping to take them home with me. I had heard a rumor that all guns and souvenirs were taken away from the men before they left Korea.

We packed our bags and were loaded on a truck bound for Hwachon. When we arrived there, we were put on a train which was leaving that night for Inchon. The train trip was really an experience. Korean trains were built and the tracks were installed by the Japanese while they occupied Korea. The rails were narrow-gauge tracks and so the freight cars are much narrower than the ones in the USA. The car I was assigned to had many holes in the floor and walls where cannon fire from strafing aircraft had penetrated. On each side they had placed three rows of wood slabs for bunk beds, and if you were lucky, you got one or two army blankets to sleep in. We traveled all night in temperatures well below freezing with the wind whistling through all the big holes in the walls and floor. I was so cold I think I may have given up and froze to death if I hadn’t been heading for home. We arrived in Inchon early the next morning but were kept locked in the rail cars until about 9:30 a.m.

When we were allowed to disembark from the train, we were herded into an old bombed-out schoolhouse where we were told to strip and stack all of our belongings in a single pile. My information about handguns and souvenirs was accurate. They took all guns, knives, weapons, etc., even those shipped from home, away from everyone.

We were then gang showered, and then they doused us all with a white powder to delouse us. We were then given new clothes to wear and never saw the old ones again. Rumor had it that this unit running the port of debarkation was the wealthiest in the service because they sold all the valuables taken from departing troops to other troops still in Korea or to the black market. Then they took it away from them as they came through.

After a time of waiting, we were loaded on a small ship bound for Japan. I remember we had a delicious turkey dinner to celebrate Thanksgiving while on the Yellow Sea. I couldn’t help but compare my feelings of relief and joy as we crossed the Yellow Sea this time as opposed to my feelings of despair and fear as we crossed the last time on our way to Korea and the unknown.

On the afternoon of Thanksgiving Day, we landed at Sasebo, Japan. We were assigned bunks in a brick barracks building and then allowed to have our first warm shower in many months. Again they deloused us and gave us new clothes.

We spent several days consigned to our barracks waiting for a ship to take us home. Finally, on December 1, 1951, we were loaded on the “USS General A. W. Brewster” ship. It was many hours before we pulled up anchor and headed out to sea. After we were on our way, we found that we were restricted to the lower deck as there were dependents on the upper deck who were being delivered to Manila in the Philippine Islands. We again passed near Okinawa which was exciting to see. On the fourth day of December, we pulled into Manila Bay and the dependents were unloaded, but then we took on some more headed for the USA, and so we still couldn’t use the upper deck. In the bay at Manila, it was interesting to see all of the superstructures of many, many ships that had been sunk. Some said that more ships were lost in Manila than in Pearl Harbor.

We had a very slow trip home with classes indoctrinating us back into civilization and getting shots to protect our families from us on our return home. We finally sailed under the San Francisco Bay Bridge and went several miles down the inland harbor between Oakland and San Francisco to an army base. From there, we were finally loaded on buses and ended up at Camp Roberts on the morning of December 24, 1951. We were told that it was too late to issue orders for leaves before Christmas. We all put up such a fuss that they finally made an exception, and we were soon on buses headed for our homes. I called Helen and told her I should be in St. George late Christmas Eve.

Life History of DuWayne G. Squire - The Short Bitter-Sweet Life of Kirk

You might need to get some tissues ready for this installment of my dad's history.  It is a heart-breaking period early in their marriage.  Their faith in God is evident and helped them endure this incredibly difficult time.

Kirk DuWayne Squire
24 March 1950-14 December 1950

Our first son was born on March 24, 1950, in the Cedar City Hospital. He was about five weeks premature, but he looked so good and healthy, and the Doctor assured us that everything seemed to be just great. When Kirk was born, I ran up and down the hospital corridors yelling, “It’s a boy!” We were so happy, but Helen was in pretty bad shape as she was in labor for a couple of days before Kirk’s birth.

By the time Helen brought the baby home from the hospital, it was apparent that he had unnatural and excessive bowel movements. The doctors at Cedar City treated him until it was apparent that they could not find a proper solution to his problem. At that point, they suggested that we take him to a specialist in Salt Lake City. They recommended a Dr. Snow who grew up in Pine Valley and was now a resident doctor at the LDS Hospital specializing in pediatrics.

We went home and called Dr. Snow’s office and were able to get an appointment for Kirk. Dr. Snow examined Kirk and suggested that we admit him into the LDS Hospital, and he would treat him there. Dr. Snow tested and treated Kirk for a few weeks and was unable to find any cause or cure for Kirk’s problems, and so he suggested that we take Kirk to the Salt Lake County Hospital and have him admitted under the care of the University of Utah doctors. He said they could experiment and perhaps find a solution to Kirk’s problems. Dr. Snow stated that he had exhausted every avenue known to him for a solution, and so from now on it would have to be through experimentation if they found a cure. At this point in our conversation, I asked Dr. Snow if it would be all right for us to take Kirk to a Dr. Wilkinson who was once an M.D. in Hurricane but had since moved to Salt Lake City and ran a clinic which determined diseases through blood tests, and then he treated them with some form of electrical device. Because of his unorthodox type of treatment, the AMA had kicked Dr. Wilkinson out of their Association. When I asked Dr. Snow this question, he flew into a rage and told me that Dr. Wilkinson couldn’t do that child any more good than if he took a light bulb and switched it on and off in front of the child. He further stated in a rage that if we took the baby to Dr. Wilkinson, he would personally see that we would be unable to register our child in any hospital in the state and would see that no doctor would look at the baby ever again. At that point, he stomped out of the baby’s hospital room. The nurse that was in there changing the bedding scolded us by saying, “You shouldn’t have mentioned Dr. Wilkinson’s name in the presence of Dr. Snow.” I said, “Why not, since Dr. Snow just admitted that whatever is ailing Kirk is beyond the knowledge of the medical profession and from now on it will be strictly experimental work if a solution is found to help him.” I further stated that we were very upset because, as we saw it, Dr. Snow had just pronounced a death sentence on our son rather than let us try something not approved by the AMA.

Needless to say, we were too frightened to try Dr. Wilkinson, even though Helen’s mother had been going to him and had experienced miraculous healing. We took Kirk obediently to the Salt Lake County Hospital. Helen stayed at her Uncle Harvey Dalton’s home on Seventh East and Eighth South in Salt Lake and would go to the hospital and spend each day with Kirk. I returned to LaVerkin to my job until I was called into active duty in the 213^th F.A. Battalion on August 3, 1950. We were all loaded on the train at Cedar City and traveled to Ft. Lewis, Washington. Those were weary, lonely days without Helen, especially with the worry of our son’s illness. We had administered to Kirk and had faith that he would be healed. Even though we prayed, “Thy will be done,” the thought never entered our heads that the Lord may choose not to heal Kirk.

Since Helen couldn’t do anything for Kirk except visit him daily, I talked her into coming up to Ft. Lewis to stay with me. I had found a little cottage in the pines just off the base. Helen had our belongings loaded into our 1940 Ford pickup and her father accompanied her to Ft. Lewis. As I recall, she arrived the first part of October, 1950. I was so homesick to see Helen that I could hardly stand it. As you can imagine, we had a joyous reunion. Dad stayed overnight in our one-room cottage, and then we put him on a bus for home.

I believe that from the day Helen arrived, we had rain and fog every day. She became very homesick and worried about our little son lying in a hospital bed in Salt Lake City. The weather being so dreary and my being at the base from 5:00 a.m. to late evening every day added to Helen’s loneliness. She missed being with Kirk, and we were both so worried about him that those were sad days, even though we had each other at night.

About 30 days after Helen arrived in Ft. Lewis, we got a call from the hospital saying that we could come and pick up Kirk. We were so elated as we assumed they must have cured Kirk of his affliction. I was able to get a weekend off, and so we packed up all of our belongings from the cabin and headed for home. It was late evening when I got off work, and so it was rather late when we left Ft. Lewis. By the time we started up the Mt. Rainier or Snoqualomie Pass, it was very dark and snowing heavily.

We thought it unusual that we never came upon any other traffic, either coming or going, but I was so busy trying to keep the Ford pickup from sliding off the road or from spinning out as we were pushing snow with the bumper, that I really didn’t give it much thought. We were petrified at times because the snow was so deep and there weren’t any other tracks to follow. At times, we had to nearly stop to discern which direction the road was heading since all markers were covered by snow. We said prayers that we might be able to make it over the pass without sliding off into one of the deep chasms along the road. We knew that if we stopped completely, we would not be able to get the truck to move again since we didn’t have snow tires or chains.

You will never know how relieved we were when we finally made it over the top of the pass and saw some lights at a café and truck stop. We pulled into the truck stop much to the surprise of everyone there. They inquired as to where we had come from, and when we told them we had just come over the Mt. Rainier or Snoqualomie Pass, they could hardly believe us because the Highway Patrol had stopped traffic due to the heavy snowfall several hours earlier. We knew that the Lord had been with us, but we never could understand how we had passed through the road block.

We arrived in Salt Lake City and went directly to the hospital and picked up our sweet little Kirk. We were very disheartened to find that he had not been cured and that the hospital was releasing him because they had done all that they could do for him.

When I got Helen and Kirk home, I had to leave immediately to catch a bus back to Ft. Lewis, Washington. I was very busy at Ft. Lewis trying to requisition all the spare parts of the OVM (equipment for our obsolete 105 MM Howitzers). I would send in a requisition for hundreds of spare parts and get three or four small parts with all of the other parts marked “out of stock.” I then had to re-requisition all of those out of stock items along with the others that I hadn’t requisitioned as yet. Each Howitzer had a book listing hundreds of spare parts required before taking the units into combat.

In December, 1950, Helen told me that Kirk was so dehydrated and thin from lack of nourishment because of his diarrhea that she had taken him back to Salt Lake. When she got to Salt Lake, she called Dr. Snow. He was very curt with her and practically hung up on her. He said there wasn’t anything he could do, and so he wouldn’t come to see Kirk or let her make an appointment to bring him into his office.

Sometime earlier, Helen had taken Kirk to Dr. Wilkinson and he treated him for a time. After one of the treatments, Kirk became constipated and Helen had to use a suppository to relieve him. At that time, he had a large solid stool—the first one since his birth—but by this time, Kirk’s little body was so emaciated and dehydrated that he just became weaker and weaker. Dr. Wilkinson said he only wished he had been able to treat him earlier as he may have been able to save him. After the rejection by Dr. Snow, Helen called and told me how weak and sick Kirk was and said he had received a priesthood blessing and was promised to live long enough to see his father again.

I went to the commanding officer and asked for time off to go home, and I explained the circumstances to him concerning Kirk’s condition. He told me that he did not have the authority to authorize me time off due to the emergency status of our unit.

I then went to the Red Cross, and they were more sympathetic to my cause and were able to get me an emergency leave. I threw some things in a bag and went over to McChord Air Force Base to see if I could get a ride to Hill Field, Utah. They didn’t have any flights scheduled for Hill Field in the next few days, but they did have a flight going to Great Falls, Montana, They suggested that I take that flight, and then I should be able to get a flight down to Hill Field from there. I took the flight in a cold C-47 sitting with my back to the side of the plane in a canvas seat. Needless to say, I was very uncomfortable and cold, but we arrived at Great Falls to find the airfield covered with snow and a cold, icy wind blowing to greet us. I was informed that there wouldn’t be any flights out until morning, and so they were kind enough to issue me a couple of army blankets and give me a bunk. It was cold in the barracks, and so I spent a very uncomfortable night. I was up at daylight and rushed over to see when I might catch a flight for Hill Field. They told me that Hill Field was completely fogged in and they had no idea when it might lift or when they may try to fly in. I waited until late afternoon, and they told me it didn’t look very promising for the next day or two. I called Helen to report where I was and what the conditions were. She said Kirk was in a terribly weakened condition, and she feared that I may not get there in time to see him alive. I called the commercial airline that served Great Falls and was told there was a flight out the next morning, but it stopped at every little town in Montana and Idaho on the way to Salt Lake. I was unable to get anything with the air force, and so I took the flight. It was very scary to me as we stopped (or landed) on several snow-packed, small runways. It was a small two-engine aircraft. I got into Salt Lake in the late afternoon, and Helen’s Uncle Harvey Dalton came out to the airport and brought me to his home.

When I arrived at the Dalton residence, Helen was there to greet me, and we had a very tearful reunion. When I saw my poor, sick, little Kirk, my heart was broken as I was not prepared to see how much suffering he had gone through to stay alive until I got there. It was almost more than I could bear to see how emaciated and dehydrated his little body was. I held him for a moment, and then Aunt Partha took him while Helen and I went to the basement bedroom where Helen was staying. We knelt down and poured our hearts out to our Father in Heaven, thanking Him for the privilege of having such a sweet little spirit born to us, thanking Him for allowing Kirk to live long enough for us to be prepared to accept the fact that it was His will that he was not to live long upon the earth, and thanking Him for preserving his life long enough for me to see him alive once more. Then we asked that He take Kirk unto Himself that he might not suffer longer. We closed our prayer, came upstairs, and Helen took Kirk from her aunt and held him close to her. Within a couple of minutes, he passed peacefully on. That was December 14, 1950.

Early the next morning, Helen dressed Kirk in his best little suit and placed him on the back seat of our car, and we drove to LaVerkin. Our hearts were heavy and our feelings close to the surface all the way home.

We bought the smallest casket we could find and held a small funeral in LaVerkin. We found that we had so many great friends, and they showered us with great love and comfort. Of course, our families were the greatest and gave us the support we needed at that time.

After the funeral, I had to catch a bus and go right back to Ft. Lewis, Washington, since our unit was preparing to ship out for Korea within the next few days. It was with heavy hearts that Helen and I parted that day.

Life History of DuWayne G. Squire - Love & Marriage

DuWayne & Helen

When Helen and I became serious enough to contemplate marriage, we were greatly concerned about the fact that we were second cousins. My Grandmother Sanders and Helen’s Grandfather Morris Wilson were brother and sister. We did much praying and soul searching concerning this problem and finally went to Ivan J. Barrett, our seminary teacher and also a member of our stake presidency. He suggested that we all kneel in prayer around his office desk. After he prayed, we all had a good positive feeling about our continued pursuit of marriage. However, because of comments made by some of my uncles, we were still greatly concerned and frustrated. In answer to prayer, we were guided to go to Brother Roundy, our stake patriarch, to receive a patriarchal blessing to see if the answer would be given there. On October 28, 1945, we went to Brother Roundy for my patriarchal blessing. We didn’t warn Brother Roundy of our concern about marriage, but we both felt the answer was very plainly stated. At that point, we went to our parents with our desires and my parents readily gave their permission.

I guessed that Helen’s parents had given their permission since they consented to ride into Salt Lake with us to buy an engagement ring. Since I hadn’t formally asked Helen’s father for her hand, I spent most of the trip nervously trying to get up enough courage to do so. We were nearly to Salt Lake by the time I finally asked the question. Helen’s father was sitting behind me as I was driving, and so I couldn’t see his face. He never responded to my question for what seemed an eternity. I am sure that it was two or three minutes before he said anything. Dad finally gave his permission, and Helen and I breathed a great sigh of relief. Dad later told us that the reason he took so long to respond to my question was because he couldn’t think of my name. He said that all of my brothers’ names came to his mind, but he drew a blank on my name. I guess he was a little nervous too.

While in Salt Lake, we stayed at Helen’s Uncle Harvey Dalton’s home. We bought Helen’s miniature diamond ring at a supposedly wholesale jewelry outlet (Dahnkens). It cost me $127 which was about one-third of my total summer’s wages. Needless to say, we were so happy we could hardly contain ourselves as we drove back home.

The next problem was to set a date for our marriage. Helen’s mother said that the St. George Temple was closed for remodeling, and she would allow us to marry when it reopened. She had understood that it would reopen in late spring, but the temple presidency decided to open the temple for a couple of weeks in December for marriages. We set the date for December 10, 1947, much to Helen’s mother’s chagrin. Thora felt tricked as the wedding date came about six months earlier than she had first contemplated.

We were married late at night, getting out of the temple at midnight. We drove to Cedar City to the Lunt Hotel to spend the night. I well remember how uneasy I felt as we went up to the hotel desk to ask for a room. The attendant asked our names and I said, “DuWayne Squire and Helen Gubler.” I blushed greatly as I quickly said, “I mean Helen Squire.” There were two or three people in the lobby and their eyes were all upon us. I am sure that none of them believed that we were married. My habit of blushing in my shyness and embarrassment certainly didn’t help our cause. We were both further embarrassed when the attendant asked where our luggage was. We had come with a small overnight case only. We were both still flushed a bright red when the attendant showed us our room and I gave him his twenty-five cent tip. 

DuWayne & Helen
This picture was taken several months after their wedding at Helen's sister, Ramona's, wedding.

The embarrassment wasn’t over because Helen was trying to figure how she could get into her nightgown without me seeing her. When I asked if she would like to go out for dinner, she suggested that I go out and buy something and bring it back to our room. When I got back with hamburgers and drinks, Helen was in her nightgown, and when I saw her, I thought she was in a formal dress and I asked her where she planned on going. She asked what did I mean? So I asked why she was in a formal dress. As I recall, she never did eat her hamburger.

The next morning we got up and had breakfast and then rushed home since we had much to do in getting the church house ready for our reception. We held our reception in the same hall that church services were held as it was also used for all cultural events. We didn’t have any decorations, not even a wedding cake. By the time all of our cousins, relatives, and friends showed up, we had all of the benches filled to capacity and a large group dancing on the hardwood floor of the chapel. At that time, people came to a wedding reception to spend the evening in dancing, eating, and enjoying a program where the M.C. roasted the bride and groom and announced the program numbers. After the program, the bride and groom had to dance alone until some family members finally took pity on us and joined in.

There was much talk of shivareeing us by Helen’s brothers, my brothers, and friends. This made us very uneasy as we had heard many tales from aunts and uncles who were taken to the mountains where the husband was chained or tied to a tree, then left to try to get loose any way he possibly could, and then walk back to town. If the groom didn’t make it back by morning, they would go out and get him. Sometimes they tied both the groom and the bride to a tree. Other times they would put the bride on a front fender of a car and the groom on another and drive them through neighboring towns and cities honking their horns or else they would parade them through restaurants and movie houses.

With this threat hanging over us, like most newlyweds we took evasive action and made a hasty retreat when no one was looking. We went down through the basement, out the basement door, and ran for Helen’s home. When we got there, we went to her room and locked the door. We were so tired that we laid on the bed with our clothes on to wait until we felt safe to proceed on our honeymoon. It was 7:30 a.m. when we awoke. We got up and changed out of our wedding clothes and grabbed our suitcases. Mother insisted we have breakfast. We then went up to tell my folks goodbye. By then, the school students were waiting for the bus, and so we waited for the bus to come as we were too shy to take the ribbing from the high school students as we departed.

I had a 1938 Chevrolet four-door sedan that had at least 200,000 miles on it which we took on our honeymoon. When we got to it, we found that we could hardly see out of any of the windows as our friends had painted it up so much and tied strings of tin cans underneath it. We made a noisy retreat as we left for Pasadena, California. I only had $20 to my name, so I borrowed $100 from Dad for our honeymoon. We drove to Las Vegas before stopping for something to eat. With a feeling of adventure, we put our change in the nickel slot machines before proceeding onto Barstow, California. We were able to get a room even though it was fairly late in the evening when we arrived. Since my car was so conspicuous with all the writing of “Just Married” and crude jokes on it and since every time we stopped for gas or to eat we were the subject of much kidding. I got up early the next morning and took a can of water out and used my handkerchief to try to wash the car. I wasn’t too successful, and since they didn’t have car wash places in those days, we still got much more attention than we desired until we got back home.

We got to Pasadena the next day and went to the oldest and most famous hotel in town and were able to get a room for the next three nights. One night we were entertained by one of Don’s best buddies from the army days in the South Pacific Islands. Don’s buddy’s parents had us over for a delicious dinner, and then they took us all over Los Angeles. Our eyes bunged out at the sights of Signal Hill and the harbor at night. We were also overawed by the freeways, the bridges, the ships in the harbor, and the traffic going at breakneck speeds.

We had a great time on our honeymoon, but it was brought to an abrupt halt when we arrived back home. We were faced with the problem of finding a place to rent and finding enough furniture to set up housekeeping, and then there was the problem of Helen returning to high school. We were able to rent Helen’s Uncle Wayne Wilson’s home for about $25 a month, and with all the used furniture contributed by our folks, we were soon set up for modified housekeeping.

Helen was in the middle of her senior year at Hurricane High School and had to attend school for half a day. I would drive Helen to school each morning, and then I would go to work at Hurricane Motor Company. At noon, I would pick Helen up, and we would drive home for lunch and then drop Helen off at her folk’s store where Helen worked until I got home after work each day. Helen graduated with her class at Hurricane High School the following spring.

We rented Wayne Wilson’s old home for a few months, but the mice and the $25 per month drove us out. We moved to Helen’s Grandmother Gubler’s home and lived in the upstairs. As I recall, the rent was only $15 per month and that fit our budget much better. We lived there until one day John Judd came in the garage and asked me if I would be interested in buying their home and the 11 acres across the street from it. He stated that he and his wife wanted to sell to someone that they respected and who they felt would keep up the place. At first, I was very elated, but when he told me the asking price was $13,000 for the land and home, I began to realize with my income it would be beyond my reach. I was only making $125 per month, and even with Helen working in the store for our groceries, it would be next to impossible to make the payments. I went home and talked to Dad and, to my surprise, found him very excited about the prospect of owning that land. He said that land was some of the most fertile and had the best water rights on the center canal of any land in LaVerkin.

I found that Dad had secretly desired to own that land since he had moved to LaVerkin. Dad suggested that if I really wanted the place, then he would buy the west six acres for the down payment of $5,000 and I could make the payments for the home and the five acres until I paid off the $8,000 balance. Helen and I were very excited to have a place of our own, but the payments were over $100, and so we had less than $25 per month to live on. With Helen working in the store and receiving free groceries for her services and with many free dinners from Mom and Dad when we stopped there after picking Helen up from work, we barely made the payments each month.

My brother, Phil, knowing of our financial bind, suggested that I might consider joining the National Guard. He said that although he was called up in World War II, history indicated that we couldn’t possibly afford to get into another war for the next 25 years or so. I joined up for the $15 or so each month for two days drill exercises. The funds did really help. I also accepted a job with E. J. Graff at his chicken ranch (on the north end of town in the old CCC buildings) as night watchman. My hours were from 2:00 a.m. to 7:30 a.m. each morning. If I rushed, I would barely get home and grab a bite to eat on the way to Hurricane Motor Co. to start work at 8:00 a.m. At this time, we were doing quite a bit of socializing with Verla and Burdell Reusch and Thell and Elaine Gubler and would be up late at night playing cards or some such game. Once in a while, I didn’t hear the alarm at 1:30 a.m. since I may have only been in bed for an hour or two, so we brought in a #2 wash tub and put it by our bed. We then wound up the “Big Ben” alarm clock and put it in the center of the tub. When the alarm went off, I would usually explode out of bed since it made a terrible racket. Believe it or not, we even slept through that a time or two.