To say the least, it was GOOD to be home, where I could stay up as long as I wanted, go to bed when I wanted, do nothing if I wanted, etc. At least that feeling lasted about a week, after which I started getting restless. It was difficult at first to fit in as a civilian. Suddenly life was relaxed, and at ease. Other than the War, I liked the Military life, the discipline and the comradery between Marines.
In the days preceding our discharge, all the guys were discussing what each was going to do after he was home. Many were planning on college, others wanted a job, and still others, most in fact. had no idea what was in store for them back home. We had heard of a new program for returning Veterans, one in which they could draw $20.00 per week for 52 weeks. We all said we were going to do nothing but take it easy for a year and take advantage of the 52/20 club as it was called.
I remember the first morning as a civilian. I woke up to a world that was completely strange to me. Of course I had my beautiful wife and twin sons, but there was a difference. I think it was the sudden realization that now, I would be the sole support of my family, that I had to find a job and we had been warned that it was going to be difficult. It would be difficult because there would be literally millions of men seeking work. I also knew that those of us who had been hurt in the war would find it difficult to fit in.
Finally I got around to sitting down with my wife and discussing what we were going to do. At that time I had no real skills. I had graduated from High School at 16 and there was no chance of college for me because I was, for all practical purposes, our sole support. The only thing in my future at that time was fighting a war. Eighteen-year-olds in 1942 had no thought of going to college.
Now, here it was almost four years later and most of us still had no real chance for college. If I had not been married I would no doubt have entered college, but as it was there was not much chance. There was the GI Bill that helped some get into College but in my case the most I could draw was $90.00 per month. That would just about pay our rent, leaving nothing for food, babies, doctors, clothes etc.
At this point I started looking for work and here is where I got my first big surprise. During the war, when we were in uniform and fighting the battles, people treated us like VIP’s. Now the war was over and everyone felt safe, so the veteran was just another man looking for work. Finally I discussed with my wife about returning to the little town where I grew up, located in the northeast part of Texas. She did not, in any way, want to return to the small town life.
I had walked the street in San Diego for days looking for any kind of work and there was nothing. Nothing for a veteran who had been wounded, no matter if he was capable of working. Many times just as I thought I would be hired, the question that I hated would come up. “Oh by the way, what branch of service were you in”. When I answered "Marines," they would then ask, “Oh, were you injured?” I would never lie, so as soon as they heard that I had indeed been hurt, the job disappeared. I can’t remember how many times I was told that they would take my name and call me in about six months or so, that is, if anything came up.
This went on for about two weeks, with me drawing my $20,00 per week, when I decided to return to my home town and check it out. My wife and I decided it would be best if I went alone, looked the situation over, and then if I decided I just had to live back there, she and the twins would join me.
So, I purchased my bus ticket and off to Texas I went, arriving in about three days. Upon arrival I got off the bus and saw the most desolate place on earth, or so it seemed. When I left for the war, this small town was alive with people, especially young people, vibrant and full of energy. I stood there in the town square and didn’t see a soul. For two days I strolled around the town that I had grown up in and didn’t see one person I knew.
All the people I had known were gone. It was a new world. There were only two people there whom I had grown up with and all three of us had joined the Marines. They were still unmarried and attending what was then East Texas State Teachers College. Today it is a branch of Texas A & M University. They confirmed what I already knew, that the town was dead as far as jobs and any kind of future was concerned.
Well, after two weeks of thoroughly checking into my chances, I decided to return to California where I knew I, at least, had some friends. When I arrived back in San Diego and told my wife we would be staying in California, she was very pleased and happy.
Now the real effort had to be made to find a way to support my family. My wife was working but her wages would hardly pay the bills. For many days I continued to walk the streets, exploring every possibility I could think of, to no avail. There was the same old questions about war injuries, and then the same turn down.
Finally in April of 1946 I gave up and decided I would re-enlist in the Marines. I thought they would be glad to get an experienced marine back, so off I went to the recruiting office. At that time their office was located in the main Post Office building in downtown San Diego at the corner of 8th Avenue and E Street.
The office was located on the second floor and I entered with the feeling that now that I had decided what I could do, I would not have to worry about supporting my family. When I told them who I was and that I wanted to re-enlist the answer shocked me. I was told the only way they would take me back was if I waived any claims for disability based on my wartime injury. In addition to that they would immediately send me to China to help the Chinese Armed Forces.
I knew I did not want to go to China; I had just returned from Japan and had had enough of that part of the world to last for a lifetime. Feeling somewhat dejected and totally depressed, I walked back down to the first floor and exited the building.
As I was walking down the steps with my head down in despair, I heard a familiar voice call my name. Turning around I saw a man I had known in the Marines with a carrier's mail bag on his shoulder. After the usual greetings, he asked me what I was doing and I told him of the difficulty I was having in trying to find work. He said, “heck man, go in there , they will hire anybody.”
I did an about face and re-enterd the building and located the offices of Superintendent of Mails, Hugh Street. He asked me what he could do for me and I told him I was looking for work. His next reply startled me. He asked me when I wanted to start and I stumbled a little and replied "Monday, I guess." This was on a Wednesday in April, 1946 and he said "How about tomorrow." That is how I started my career with the Postal Service and it lasted for over 36 years
CIVILIAN LIFE-PART ONE
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