July 1943: The Obstacle Course

Elmer quickly found himself busy once classes started on July 6th. “Same routine,” he wrote two weeks later. “Exercise, chow, classes, chow, exercise, classes, study, chow, study, and then sleep. What a day!”

His mornings started at 6am, when he would get up and begin his physical drilling. He was not used to the frequent and intense training, and although he often complained about it in his uncensored letters home, he did not question its necessity. “I’m tired,” he reported on July 12th after finishing his workout for the day, “but this is good for me.” Several days later he elaborated: “my physical drills tightened my muscles up and made me stiff – especially in the stomach. But it proves that it is doing good.” On the 21st he told his parents he was “wore out” after completing the obstacle course. “It’s a killer,” he wrote.

By 8am he was in class. For the next nine hours it was coursework, study time, and more physical education. He was enrolled in seven classes: Physics, American History, Naval History, American Literature, Physical Education, Engineering Drawing, and Psychology. Of all those subjects, “Physics seems to be the toughest subject for all the fellows.” He apparently held his own, though – on the 28th he learned that he had passed his first exam, “but not with a high grade.”

Naval Students at Brown tacking an obstacle course. Physical training was a central component of the V-12 Program.

The V-12 Program worked Elmer to the bone, but there was a silver lining to his new posting: “they really can serve chow here.” The food on campus was “the closest to home cooking I have ever had,” he reported, and the chicken dinner he had on the Fourth of July was “perfect.” In addition, the dorms were a nice change of pace after spending two and a half years on a cramped ship. “The lounge has really nice over-stuffed divans, chairs, a radio, and such lovely carpets, drapes, etc. It really is swell here, folks.”

But the best part was the people. He became close friends with Hal Spiner, a fellow Cleveland High School graduate and a fellow resident in his dorm. On July 16th he interrupted a letter home by announcing that Hal had walked in and asked him to go out; when he picked it up the next day he described a double-date with Hal and two local girls, Ruthie and Hettie Jean, who worked as waitresses on campus. They drove up to Cape Rock, which apparently was just as frequented by couples in the 1940s as it was in the early aughts. But he quickly added, probably to short-circuit any worrying, that Cape Rock was also “the spot where some frenchmen landed back in 1733.” He was taking American history, after all.

Evenings were just as busy as the days. Elmer and his classmates visited the Rainbow Room, a local bar, and attended a dance held by the school. But the nights were hot in other ways as well. “Even at night you perspire a great deal,” Elmer wrote of the summer heat in Cape. “Boy is it hot here . . . [it] makes it hard to write as my arm keeps floating away in a pool of sweat.”

The Rainbow Room was located inside the Hotel Idan-Ha, which burned down in 1968.

Elmer enjoyed spending some of his weekends in Cape, but he did make an effort to go home occasionally. Usually his visits were brief: he would take a bus up to Saint Louis early Saturday evening and head back Sunday afternoon. The visits were not long, but they were pleasant. “Good to be home,” he wrote after a visit. “The good old home-cooked food hit the spot.” Although he could not make it up for his mother’s birthday – they spoke on the phone instead – he tried to coordinate one visit with his brother Bud and his family visiting from Chicago. And Elmer took advantage of that most hallowed and time-honored tradition among college students: bringing the laundry home over the weekend. After one visit his mother had shipped him his uniform, which she had generously cleaned and pressed for him. It’s “in perfect shape” he announced – “‘just like taking it out of a drawer.’ Thanks, you’re a dear.”

Elmer had one other reason to visit home as well. At the end of the month, he announced his intention to visit. But he would not spend a great deal of time at home that Saturday evening – he had a date. With Rose.

May – June 1943: Two Homecomings

Elmer did not write his parents another letter until June 18th. He did not have to: at 2:15 PM on May 11th, Grandpa arrived at Saint Louis Union Station. His parents were waiting.

After such a long absence, Elmer really enjoyed being back home with his family. His mother cooked his favorite meals, he and his father discussed politics in the den, and old friends and family popped in and out of 550 Eiler Street to visit. His friend Bud Tanner loaned him a late-model Ford to use during his time back in Saint Louis, so he was able to get around town as well.

Needless to say, this 43-day leave represents a 43-day gap in his letters. Since many of the specifics that inform this narrative come from his letters (which, of course, he did not need to write – he and his parents were under the same roof) and his service record, we don’t have a great deal of additional information. However, Grandpa did talk about this trip back home during his oral interview. Here is what he said about it:

So, actually, I got off of the Chew in Seattle, and I took a train home, and stayed at home here for the delayed order’s time. That’s when I met Rose, while I was home. Actually ended up going with some gal here, and she was committed to somebody or engaged. Anyway . . . I went downtown and met her at her lunch. She worked at Gaylord Container. Anyway . . . I guess the most important thing I did on the 43-day delayed order.

Elmer Luckett, Oral Interview, December 31, 2014

We will learn a lot more about Rose Schmid in the coming weeks and months.

She was my grandmother.

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Time flies. June came before he knew it, and his 43 days were up.

“That month at home was heaven,” he wrote his parents after arriving at San Diego on the 15th. “Mom dear, I sure miss that home cooking of yours. Our food is good, but it just don’t compare with yours.”

His train deposited him in San Diego early. Once again, he had several days to kill in California. He spent them with a couple of friends he made on the train west. And by the time he reported for duty on June 18, he received some unexpectedly good news: he would be attending the Southeast Missouri Teacher’s College in Cape Girardeau.

Like many Saint Louisans, Elmer did not know much about the city, which he spelled “Cape Guardeau” (though he did add to his parents, rather sheepishly, that he “spelled wrong, I think – but you know where I mean – don’t you?”). He also did not know quite where it was, suggesting to his parents that “It shouldn’t be more than 300 miles from home,” even though the town is only about 100 miles south-southeast of downtown St. Louis. But he would get to know it soon.

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Academic Hall, Southeast Missouri Teacher’s College, c. 1940. Digital image from Southeast Missourian: https://www.semissourian.com/photos/14/03/51/1403513-A.jpg

On June 26th, Elmer took a train from the Pacific to the Mississippi for the second time in as many months. Four days later, Grandpa arrived in Cape Girardeau, Missouri at 3:15 in the morning. The moon was only a sliver in the sky, and the disembarking passengers immediately found themselves surrounded by pitch black floodwaters. Cape Girardeau’s railroad is so close to the Mississippi that it practically hugs the riverbank. “The train tracks had about a foot of water over them,” he reported the next day, “but all was well.” Elmer and the other arrivals grabbed their bags, splashed across the submerged platform, and hopped a ride to the campus, which was located on a slight hill overlooking the river about a mile away. They only had a couple of hours to sleep before reporting in at 8:30 that morning.

Fortunately, the excitement of the moment quickly replaced the fatigue. “I like it here and this is really an opportunity to attend college first class,” he reported. “I think we will be able to get home over weekends once we settle down.” Despite not having known much about his new city only a week earlier, he was more than ready to trade engineering on the Pacific Ocean for college studies alongside the Mississippi River.