Alice Esther Woolever Miller

(born August 27, 1927)

It was Sunday, December 7, 1941. Mom, Dad, and I were sitting down to dinner, the radio was playing. The program was interrupted, President Roosevelt came on to announce that we were at war. The Japanese had just bombed Pearl Harbor in a surprise attack. I can't remember if we ate much, just digesting what the news meant for our country and for our family. "Remember Pearl Harbor" became the rallying cry for the U.S. The country had 18 ships sunk, or damaged, about 170 planes destroyed and 3700 casualties.

It seems within weeks rationing began. Everyone began saving things like grease. Gas was limited to one or two gallons per week or less. Tires were made from synthetic rubber as the Japanese had occupied the rubber-growing islands of southeastern Asia and cut off all supply to the Allies. Many food items were rationed: sugar, butter, meat, coffee, all canned goods, requiring coupon stamps for purchase. (Pink for meat, green for canned goods.) After school I clerked in the grocery store and had to count out the proper number of stamps for each item purchased, along with the money. Coupons for shoes provided for only one, maybe two, pairs of shoes a year.

The young men were enlisting in droves. I think Frank had already gone and probably Russ too. Everyone took seriously those impressive signs that said, "Uncle Sam Wants You," and "Buy War Bonds." An eligible young man either enlisted or was drafted. Every household supported the cause in whatever way possible. Earl enlisted at 19 after his first year in college. I remember clearly the chilly, cloudy day Mom, Dad and I went to see him off at the Iowa City train station.

Mom and a lady friend in Nichols did their part too. Every Sunday night for months, they rode a bus to Burlington, Iowa, 50 miles from Nichols, where they worked during the week painting letters on bomb casings. Dad and I bached together my senior year while she was away. During the next summer I rode with a very elderly gentleman from Nichols to Muscatine (16 miles) where we both worked 11 hours a day in a sash and door factory, the part that was converted to making war supplies. He was a dear, some 80 years old, who often could not finish the long day so he would sit in his car and wait for me. I had the fun of driving part way home so he could nap. At the plant I had two different jobs. One was operating an electric screw driver putting hinges on grenade box lids. The other was sitting behind a huge roller on a two-legged stool catching the printed lids as they came through the rollers. When they came too fast, I ended up on the floor. That was the summer when the war ended in Europe (VE Day). The factory went up for grabs with joy. But the war continued in the Pacific.

Near the end of the war, Frank and Russ both came through Iowa City. Russ was there long enough to have dinner with me at the dorm (Currier Hall). He looked so striking in his Navy uniform, he created quite a stir among all the girls. Frank's arrival in I.C. was when he was discharged. He too was handsome in his uniform. We met him at the bus station, he was home for good. He did have an unusual skin tone, yellow from atabrine (or quinine), the treatment for malaria, but he sure looked good. If I am remembering right, both Frank and Russ were married not long after their discharges.

As far as I knew, Earl was the only one of our brothers who was injured. I often wondered how Mom and Dad felt when they received that telegram. There is a stone memorial in the little park in Nichols with the engraved names of the Nichols WWII servicemen. The town saw fit to have the three Woolevers included even though Russ and Frank never lived there. I am sure Mom and Dad were very proud. I believe there was only one Nichols war casualty. He was a farm boy who had been deferred to work on his parent's farm. Later on he enlisted, but not for long. His name was Harry (Swede) Ogren, a star on the H.S. basketball team and later, another star by his name on the park memorial.

After Earl was discharged he returned to the University of Iowa to finish his degree. By this time the campus was being inundated with returning veterans going to school on the GI bill. It was coeds' paradise after several years of what seemed like the university had been an all-girls' school. The veterans, both men and women, were somewhat older and serious. Several I knew had learned to walk on prosthesis, having lost their legs. Earl had earned enough college credit that he could re-enter as a senior. I kept trying to line up various dates for him. I think he finally asked me to back off. As luck would have it, we were able to graduate together and we each got Samsonite luggage from our parents for graduation. That was June, 1948.