Around 1940, when I was 17 and fresh out of high school, I was working my first job as a secretary to four realtors and an insurance agent. I had a friend named Dorothy VanBushirk, now deceased, whose husband was in the military. After receiving the dreaded news that he had been killed in action, Dorothy and I soon discovered we had a mutual interest in the military. She told me about a group of women who were meeting at the Armory on East 8th in Eugene, Oregon, for training in the Women’s Ambulance Corps to help with the World War II effort on the homefront. These women were taking men’s jobs so the men could go to war. Since I had two older brothers in the Army, I gladly accepted her invitation to “check it out.”
We were both “hooked” at the first training session, became members, and started paying our monthly dues of 50 cents. I was certified in 1943 and received membership cards for the O.W.A.C. and the Oregon State Defense Council. Lucky for me, my ID card called for “left thumb print.” I wonder if I would have been disqualified if a right thumb print had been required. My brother cut off my right thumb in an accident when I was 1½ years old, but I learned to be ambidextrous and compensate for the loss.
I worked days in an office, then went to drill evenings (I believe once a week). I especially enjoyed the synchronicity and discipline of marching, plus the chance to do something worthwhile, to help win the war, and get our boys home. I also enjoyed working in harmony with like-minded women, and I wore my uniform with a sense of pride for the cause it represented. I looked forward to completing my training and putting it into action.
Besides learning to march in unison, we learned how to give CPR, how to load and unload a body on a gurney, and how to operate a telephone switchboard in the old “Ma Bell” building. Unfortunately, we were unable to complete the scheduled training, which included firefighting and getting a Chauffeur’s License to operate an ambulance. After 1943, the Oregon State Defense Council’s activities diminished rapidly, and by the end of the war in 1945, the Defense Council ceased to exist. Since there was no perceived threat of air raids or other disasters, federal funding could not be justified.
Once, while in uniform, we passed around offering plates at a local theater to take up a collection for the O.W.A.C. cause. I was assigned to the balcony. I never heard how much we collected that night.
One of the first things I purchased when working was a 1936 Model A Ford Coupe. It was a convertible with a rumble seat, and I paid $150 for it. A decal of the insignia of the O.W.A.C. in red, white and blue was made available to us and I proudly put one on the driver’s side door. My car was dark blue and quite lovely to look at with the touches of red and white.
Everyone who needed gas to get to work had to apply for “ration stamps.” We estimated on the application how many miles we drove per week, and the government issued stamps. Well, my little car was easy on gas, so I always had stamps left over at the end of the month.
Eugene was full of soldiers on Sunday afternoons, and West 6th was lined with men hitchhiking back to Camp Adair in Corvallis, about 45 miles away. We would drive down West 6th, pick up two soldiers, tell them to sit in the rumble seat, and drive them back to camp – one trip per week. Dorothy and I always kept the front seats. It was a small thing to do, but we felt good that we helped the soldiers and used the stamps for a good cause.
My bus riding days over, I was free to come and go as I pleased, with one eye on the gas tank. My first inspiration was to take my grandmother and younger sister to church every Sunday, so that’s what I did, and I still had stamps left over.
Names I remember are Lt. Esther Dunlap and Lt. Stryker as instructors. Another O.W.A.C. member I am aware of is Edna Toll Teal, who lives in Oakridge, Oregon. She was a high school friend and is now 90. She still has her original O.W.A.C. uniform shirt.
I still have the original cards showing membership in O.W.A.C. and the Oregon State Defense Council. I also have my cap and photos in full uniform, which are preserved in a shadow box that is on exhibit at the Shelton-McMurphey-Johnson Museum in Eugene until mid-October, 2014.
I am 91, live alone, still drive, and maintain a house and a yard. All praise goes to my Heavenly Father who watches over me.
I agree with Major Hoople, who used to say, “When we had the least, we had the most.”