As one who belongs to that segment of the nation's population referred to by Tom Brokaw and others as the 'Greatest Generation', it has been suggested by many that we put down in writing our individual experiences during World War II to provide a more complete historical record of that conflict and how it impacted our nation as a whole. Until now, I have been reluctant to do so, not necessarily to suppress painful memories of traumatic combat experiences in that war, but also to recognize that the very likely diminution of cognitive powers as one ages does necessarily generate some degree of skepticism as to how accurately and realistically one can recall specific events and emotions that occurredmore than a half century earlier. So it is with the caveat that while I have made every effort to describe my World War II and other experiences as accurately as possible, there can be no absolute guarantee that the recollections which I now hold in hindsight coincide perfectly with the events as they actually occurred in that turbulent period of my life. Any subsequent contradictions are, of course, due entirely to personal limitations of recall and perception.

The narrative that follows is affectionately dedicated to my wife, Dorothy; sons Morley and Stephen; daughter-in-law Mary Ann; grandchildren Theresa, Christopher, Jennie, Elizabeth, and my sister Sophie. It is my fondest hope that for many years to come they will be able to enjoy its blessings of peace, freedom and a better world for which my generation fought and died.

I was born in Marquette, Michigan on October 15, 1921. Both of my parents, Victor and Jenny Peura, were of Finnish descent. My father had emigrated from Finland near the turn of the century and my mother was born in Trout Creek, Michigan in 1901. She came from a large family which included five brothers and six sisters. My parents were married in 1919 and my only sister, Sophie, was born in 1920. A younger brother, John, who was born in 1922, died in 1927 of pneumonia. My father passed away on August of 1958 and my mother in 1986. My sister remains alive as of this writing.

Memories of my early childhood during the 1920s remain dim and sketchy. I began my public school education in 1927 when I entered th first grade (there was no kindergarten in those days) at North Marquette Elementary School. Having spoken only Finnish at home, there was a learning process which I had to go through in order to be able to assimilate all of the educational materials which students were expected to master before advancing to the next grade. Fortunately, my progress was facilitated by my avid interest in reading as well as the very basic necessity of communicating daily with my English-speaking classmates. Minor roadblocks occurred now and then as exemplified by an incident which happened one day when the teacher questioned me as to why my sister Sophie was absent from school. Not knowing the English word for throat, I pointed a finger at my throat and said, 'She's sick right here'. A compassionate and understanding teacher knew at once that my sister's absence was due to a sore throat.

The crash of the stock market in 1929 meant very little to us as a family. My father had been employed as a park laborer by the City of Marquette while my mother performed cleaning work and other menial odd jobs in addition to taking care of everyday household chores. When the new Northland Hotel opened in Marquette early in the 1930s, my mother went to work there as a dishwasher for a salary rate of $1.00 per day. The work was hard and without the benefit of air conditioning in a hot and humid kitchen environment. After finishing a day's work at the hotel, my mother would quite often continue to wash and iron clothes after supper for friends as a source of additional income. Years later, I would marvel at her incredible stamina and how much hard work was part and parcel of everyday living during that period. Yet despite all of the hardships, there was surprisingly little evidence of chronic dissatisfaction at least in our particular part of the country, due perhaps in part by a sparse population and lack of large city urban centers. Hard work and lack of abundant material possessions were givens which most people seemed to accept as a matter of course. Little did they realize that within a few short years, the courage and character of the American people would be even more sorely tested by the sequence of events at the international level which would ultimately lead to the greatest conflict in human history - World War II.

It was also during this period of my life that I developed an interest in music which had a direct bearing upon my entry into military service a few years later. Learning of the need from one of my friends for a flute player in the junior high school orchestra, I notified the music director of my interest despite a lack of training or experience in flute playing. With the director's encouragement and support, I was accepted for the orchestra and thus began my career in the field of music education which eventually led to my enrollment at the University of Illinois in September of 1939. My acceptance by the University was made possible by an award of a $1,000 scholarship upon graduation from high school and was based on my academic standing and economic need. Because I had some latitude in deciding which approved college or university I wished to attend, my choice of the University of Illinois was somewhat of a random selection based to some extent on my youthful desire to explore life beyond the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. My decision was also based on the excellent reputation of the University of Illinois Concert Band which the famous composer and conductor John Philip Sousa had labeled as the 'World's Greatest College Band'. Coming from a small town in Michigan and being a total stranger on a new college campus, little did I realize the huge emotional adjustment that I would be required to make before I could settle down to a normal routine in my new college setting. The necessity of a quickened maturation process stood me in a good stead when I was inducted into the Army in January, 1943.

Despite the growing war clouds, life went on as usual. The Munich Crisis in 1938 was an especially tense period with the likelihood of a general European war if negotiations between England and France and the Axis Powers broke down. The immediate cause of the crisis was Hitler's demand that the Sudetenland, which had been part of Czechoslovakia since World War I, be annexed by Germany since it was largely inhabited by people of German descent. At the last moment when war appeared imminent, Prime Minister Chamberlain of Great Britain flew to Munich and capitulated to Hitler's demands in the hope of avoiding war. However, the respite proved to be brief and came to an end in September, 1939 when Germany invaded Poland, touching off declarations of war by the Allied nations who had promised to come to the aid of Poland if she were attacked by Germany. Since the United States was not yet directly involved, I proceeded with my plans and entered the University of Illinois in September of 1939. It was my fervent hope that the European war not withstanding, I somehow would be able to complete my education and thus eventually begin a career in my chosen field of work.

However, fate would decree otherwise and I had no inkling at the time of the many twists and turns that I would encounter before it was possible to return to a life of reasonable normalcy.

December 7, 1941: A day of infamy. So proclaimed the President on the following day as a state of war engulfed the United States. The sudden attack on Pearl Harbor by Japan set in motion a tidal wave of historical currents that changed forever the destinies not only of the United States, but the rest of the world as well. It was truly the defining event of the 20th century.

On that fateful day, I was in my second year at the University of Illinois and residing in a private home for students. As was my usual custom during the football season, I was listening to a radio broadcast of a Chicago Bears football game when the program was suddenly interrupted by an announcement that Pearl Harbor was under heavy military attack and that there had been numerous casualties. To describe my reaction to the news as total astonishment would be an understatement. Pearl Harbor? In Hawaii? Why in the world are the Japanese attacking Pearl Harbor? What does it mean? Are we at war? If so, how will it affect me personally? These and many other questions kept racing through my mind. Reactions to the surprise attack were swift and on the following day, by an act cif Congress, the United States declared a state of war with Japan. A few days later, Germany and Italy also joined in the conflict, thus setting the stage for a war that eventually would be labeled as World War II.

The days after Pearl Harbor at the University wwere a mixture of frenetic activities and announcements. President Arthur Cutts Willard called a convocation of all students on December 8 in an attempt to clarify the anticipated role of the University and students in the immediate crisis. Essentially, his message was that students should continue to remain in school until further official information was available as to how the nation as a whole would proceed in carrying out the war effort. Most students found it extremely difficult to focus on studies at a time when the very security of the country was at state. A number of students (the exact number is unknown) dropped out of school immediately and volunteered for service in the armed forces. But after a passage of several days and weeks, some degree of normalcy did return to student life and from that point on it became somewhat of a waiting game for each individual, not knowing what his/her future would hold. In my case, I had registered for the draft and after taking my preliminary physical examination at the Champaign, Illinois Armory, I requested that my draft registration be transferred to the Selective Service Board in my hometown of Marquette, Michigan, for final processing. After passing the physical and mental standards, I was classified as lA, which meant that I was immediately available for induction into the military service. The final screening was carried out at a large ice rink in Marquette called the Palestra and at the end of the day several hundred of us were sworn into the Anny and ordered to report to Fort Sheridan the following week. As I came home that evening, I could not help but think how dramatically my life had changed within the short space of a year. First there was Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, then my registration for the draft in February, 1942, and finally my induction into the Anny in January, 1943. No longer, I concluded, was I in charge of my own destiny, but like millions of other fellow citizens, we had become rudderless ships tossing about in a sea of uncertainty. We were now about to search for a compass.

I was among 114 draftees who boarded the train at the Marquette depot in the early evening of January 22, 1943. My first inkling that we were under strict military discipline came when Military Police were posted at both ends of the coach, presumably to prevent any draftee from opting to change his mind about entering the military service and returning to civilian life. There was also an immediate search of the coach for any liquor that may have been brought on board to help alleviate the stress and strain on one's psyche in this kind of abnormal situation. Since we were due to arrive at Fort Sheridan the following morning after riding all night on minimally cushioned coach seats, I thought it best to try to grab a few winks of sleep before we got into the ordeal of shedding civilian habits and becoming full-fledged soldiers in the U.S. Arny.

Arriving in Fort Sheridan in the early dawn hours, we immediately began a day-long procedure which included the issuance of uniforms, inoculations, disposal of civilian clothes and other sundry matters, all designed to facilitate the transition from civilian to military status. The day-long activities were capped by an evening session in a mess hall during which the recruits were addressed by an officer who expressed, in a very forceful manner, that we were now subject to the Articles of War, the violation of which could lead to some pretty serious consequences, including death. As I found out in my later military experience, the Anny took great pains to remind soldiers, especially as they got ready for combat, that compliance with the Articles of War was crucial to military discipline. Learning to deal with fear thus became an integral part of converting carefree civilians into model soldiers who would be willing to carry out orders in life or death situations on a battlefield. At least that seemed to be the theory.

My stay at Fort Sheridan was an abbreviated one due to the fact that my military assignment upon my induction into the Army had been facilitated by Captain Mark Hindsley of the Army Air Corp who had been one of my music professors at the University of Illinois while I was a student majoring in music education. In response to a letter than I had written to him earlier, I received the following letter from Mark just before my induction:

January 15, 1943

Dear Walter,

    Very glad to get your nice letter. Flute players are needed in our bands in large numbers. I am writing Captain Harold Bachman, Special Service Branch, 6th Service command, U.S. Post Office Building, Chicago, Illinois, asking that if possible he secure your assignment to George Field, Lawrenceville, Illinois, after your induction and processing. Hope that they can be arranged, but if not we'll hope that something else satisfactory works out. Please keep me informed of your progress.

Sincerely,

Mark H. Hindsley

Captain, Air Corps.

Special Services Division

Music Officer

Captain Bachman responded favorably to Captain Hindsley's request with the result that upon completion of my processing at Fort Sheridan I was ordered to report by train to George Field at Lawrenceville, Illinois, for assignment with the 352nd Air Force Band. Keenly aware of my raw recruit status as I rode in the coach with other civilians, I arrived at Lawrenceville in the early hours of the next morning and was met at the station by a G.I. in a jeep whose job it was to escort me to the air base in accordance with official orders. As we drove along with minimal conversation, I could not help wondering what life would be like in a military band during wartime. I did not have to wait long.