SEVIER COUNTY REMEMBERS WORLD WAR II . . .

Saturday, May 16, was Armed Forces Day, but for me and 160 other Sevier County residents, May 7, 1992, was a personal "Armed Forces Day."

We gathered at the Sevier County Courthouse to honor those involved in a project entitled "Sevier County Remembers World War II," which has resulted in a collection of local histories related to war experiences. Forty-three Richfield High School Honors English students did interviews, sometimes selecting more than one interviewee.

The result is a collage of World War II experiences which encompass pain, agony, anguish, compassion, anger, relief, repulsion, fear, boredom, sorrow, and joy—the whole gamut of human emotions.

The project explores not only those who served in the European Theater and the Pacific Theater, but also those who served on the Home Front.

As teacher and project director, I had the opportunity to read all of the oral history transcriptions as well as the resulting research papers. I felt myself drawn emotionally into a time fifty years ago with a reality so compelling that present time and space disappeared.

I shared, as the student interviewers had, experiences on a personal and intimate level.

I flew with Francis Parks in his glider as he felt the tug of the tow rope while beginning missions from Rome into Southern France.

I sorrowed with Scott Hansen as, on his first mission, he watched five out of six planes shot down right in front of him. "Those guys were bailing out and going into the North Sea; if they didn't freeze on the way down, they wouldn't last when they got to the ground."

I shared Marvin Christensen's combination of horror and relief as he watched the Bridge at Remagen collapse just as his truck was about to drive on to it.

I rode a tank with Elvin Sudweeks as he faced battle, tried to rescue someone left in the tank after the abandon order, and got shot in the legs in the confusion of smoke and fire that followed.

I laughed with Christine Mennechet Langston as American soldiers freed her town in France, giving chocolate to the liberated French.

I marched through the Arch of Triumph in Paris with Raphael Brugger, as his commander, George Patton, said, "We don't go around the Arch, we go through the Arch."

I shuddered with Gordon Hansen as he entered the concentration camp at Ohrdruff, discovering "trenches ten to twenty feet wide, one to two hundred feet long, full of bodies."

I marveled with Ray Powell as in his truck he hauled wealth of the Germans hidden in salt mines to safety in Frankfurt, as armed guards protected it.

At Hickham Field, with Frank Biagi, I watched as Japanese planes rained horror on the barracks and on Pearl Harbor, and shared his frustration at finding no planes to fight after finally getting airborne.

I felt Phil Jorgensen's excitement as his young bride was unexpectedly waiting for him as his ship docked in San Francisco, and with his captain's permission, he disembarked first, shinnying down the ropes in anticipation.

I shared Bill McKinlay's compassion as, overcoming his hatred for the Japanese, he was touched as he watched this starving people stand in line to retrieve left-overs thrown into a garbage barrel by the American soldiers. He would then get extra food to give them, even bringing loaves of bread from the ship's bakery.

I sensed Joy Ogden's anger as she and her Richfield childhood friends smashed their Japanese tea sets as a protest to the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

I noted the care of Verla Breinholt and the other women who worked in the Manti Parachute Plant as they painstakingly stitched and folded, knowing that lives could depend on their workmanship.

I followed Melba Oldroyd as she jotted notes on a paper kept in her pocket so that each evening she could write a letter to her husband in Guam, scenting each letter with sachet powder, which caused the boys in the barracks to say, "Umm, we know who got a letter today," when Alvin opened the letters.

I mounted a tractor with Myra Sorensen who learned that in war times farm women had to do men's jobs.

I sat on the beach in California with Barbara Middleton, as she gazed at the endless expanse of ocean and said, "My husband is over there someplace."

With Clara Christensen, I became "Rosie the Riveter" at Lockheed Aircraft, as she moved from a sheltered rural Utah life to the warplants of California.

I felt Charlie Inouye's emotion as a Japanese internee at Heart Mountain Relocation Camp when he said, "We pledged to a flag we couldn't defend."

I saw war through a child's eyes as Lorraine Nelson observed German POWs housed in Salina assigned by her father to work in the sugar beet fields.

I winced with Wes Cherry as he saw blood coming down the steps of the hospital in Salina and bodies of German POW's lying on the floor, as these men, machine-gunned by a crazed guard, fought for their lives.

I rejoiced with Ray Whittaker when, as the war was finally over, "the street was full of people, and they were screaming and yelling and weeping and wailing and it was just a joyous occasion and something you just can't imagine unless you've experienced it for yourself."

World War II forever changed the world, forever changed America, and forever changed the people of Sevier County who experienced it. A small part of what the war meant has now been preserved for present and future generations as these histories are archived.