November 18, 2024 - Monday, November 11, was Veterans Day. I am not a veteran—but like everyone in the United States, I know many veterans. When I was pastor at Joaquin First United Methodist Church, the lay leader of our church, Richard Wharton, was a veteran of WWII. He participated in the landing in Italy and later was among the first GIs to liberate a Nazi concentration camp. His twin brother was killed in the Pacific.
Another veteran, in our church, Gene Allen was a WWII Marine who served in the Pacific theater and was involved in the amphibious landings on multiple islands: A. J. Procell, who recently celebrated his 100th birthday was in the Navy. These men are inspirations to all, and I admire them greatly.
The last church that I served before I completely retired in 2022 was Paxton United Methodist Church. We were so small in number that we would have a little celebration if our Sunday attendance was in double digits. But veterans were well represented in that little congregation. Many were members of the VFW, so our church gave each year to the local VFW as part of our outreach. Again, these vets are people that I really admire.
But the two WWII veterans that I knew best were Evelyn and Wayne Smith, my parents. My dad had just started college at Aurora College (now University) in Chicago. While in the Windy City, he met and dated a stunning redhead, and things became serious quickly. Then on December 7, 1941, like many of the Greatest Generation, my dad put away his school books and enlisted in the Navy.
My mother was a farm girl from North Dakota. Yes, fellow Texans, people actually live in North Dakota of their own free will! She was an outstanding high school basketball player, nicknamed Flash because of her speed and agility. This would later become rather humorous when my mom reached her nineties and was on a walker. To hear her old pals refer to her as Flash didn’t quite work! In 1940 she left Egeland, North Dakota, and headed to Chicago, aiming to play semi-pro basketball. But December 7, 1941, changed that plan like it did my dad’s college education.
Even with war and the upheaval in their lives, my parents stayed in touch and saw each other as often as possible. Since my dad was serving on the U. S. S. Green, that meant not very regularly. The reason my mom joined the Navy wasn’t only patriotism, but the thought that joining the Navy would be an adventure that would allow her to see the world. That didn’t turn out as she hoped, as she was stationed in Cleveland and then New York City during the war—but she did get to meet President Roosevelt.
When my dad got her letter telling of her plans to join the Navy, he hit the roof (not that high on a ship). I guess being a sailor himself and serving with hundreds of other Navy men, he did not like the idea of his fiancee being around other sailors. Fair or not, sailors had a certain reputation when it came to the ladies. He wrote her that if she joined the Navy, they were through. Mom let him know very quickly that he wasn’t going to tell her what to do, so “Goodbye, sailor.” She joined the Navy.
After her discharge in 1945 my mother returned to the farm in North Dakota. Not long after getting home, she started getting letters from Wayne—my dad. He even wrote to her parents, pledging his love to their daughter. My sweet grandmother urged my mom to write back: “Wayne is such a good young man.” (Even though she had never met this Iowan who was sweet on her daughter.)
On November 17, 1945, my folks married. Using the GI Bill, they both attended Aurora College this time. Like everywhere in the United States, there were housing shortages, with no one prepared for the return of millions of veterans. At the college, which had no married student housing, their first home was a boys’ dorm. My mother was given certain times in the morning and evening when she could use the common bathroom, it being off limits to the guys at those times. A newspaper article from then, framed on our wall, features my parents living in that boys’ dorm.
On this past Veterans Day, I remembered many veterans in congregations I served as pastor. And so many others I have met along the way. But my special thoughts were with two WWII vets who were my loving and caring parents. Thanks, Evelyn and Wayne, for your service.
Randy Smith/retired Joaquin ISD educator and retired United Methodist Minister
