In 1943, George Field served as a twin engine flying school whose mission was to train pilots and other personnel for multi-engine bombers carrying out raids in various theatres throughout the world. After successful completion of the nine weeks of training, the cadets were commissioned as second lieutenants or flight officers. The remaining compliment at George Field consisted of maintenance and service personnel including the 352nd Air Force Band.

Upon meeting the other 27 members of the band, I was pleasantly surprised to find that two of them, Bill Lyons and Bob Zorn, had been virtual neighbors of mine in civilian life with Bill a resident of Marquette and Bob having lived in Ishpeming, Michigan, some fifteen miles from Marquette. Despite our interest in music and previous musical experiences, I was not personally acquainted with either until I began my service with the 352nd Band.

As far as my reaction and general feeling about the band are concerned, as we grew to know each other during the ensuing months, one should understand that highly creative musicians in the military during periods of wartime, especially those who had been drafted, often included rather unique characters and the 352nd was no exception. How well these individuals could be molded into competent soldiers ready to carry out military objectives was, of course, the basic question. Because the 352nd was not slated for combat duty, our training consisted mainly of close order drills, daily musical rehearsal and some physical exercise activities. There was no instruction in the use of weapons nor did any of us carry any type of firearms. In addition to performing at retreat ceremonies and at Bond rallies in nearby communities, our band also furnished music for base dances and other social events. All in all, it appeared that the role of a military band, such as the 352nd, during this period was to serve as a morale booster in accordance with military traditions. Of course, it was assumed that the band members could carry out other functions in emergency situations.

Perhaps the most memorable event that occurred during my long stay at George Field was the flooding of the Embarras and Wabash Rivers in the spring of 1943 which threatened to inundate the air base. It was one of the worst floods in that area and a top level decision was made to build a wall of sandbags around the base using all available personnel, including members of the band. Assistance was also provided by a contingent of Wacs who were stationed in George Field. Thousands of sandbags were flown in by cargo planes and we worked feverishly throughout the day and night to build a sufficiently high retaining wall to hold back the flood waters as well as plugging leaks as they occurred. After the flood waters crested, the sandbags did hold and the base was saved from flooding. It was an experience that certainly helped to direct attention away from daily routines and one that I am sure none of us could ever forget.

A few months after the flood, another development occurred which changed the course of my military career. Through an information bulletin that had been posted near the personnel office, I became aware of a special Army Training Program (ASTP) which had been instituted by the Army in conjunction with a number of colleges and universities throughout the country to provide an additional resource of individuals with specialized skills in such areas as engineering, medicine and languages to meet the growing demands of the military service. Believing that I met the basic requirements because of my Finnish language background, I submitted an application through appropriate military channels and on September 24, 1943, I was ordered to report to the University of Illinois to undergo further processing for the ASTP Program. Needless to say, I was quite happy to return to my alma mater (though obviously in a different aspect) to await further developments. I was also grateful that I would be able to retain my corporal's rating which I had received while a member of the 352nd Air Force Band.

When I arrived at the campus in September 1943, I had no idea as to how my Finnish language was going to be utilized and what additional training and indoctrination would be needed before a final assignment would be made. Basically, after further screening and acceptance into the ASTP Program, trainees typically would then be assigned to various colleges and universities throughout the country to pursue further training in other areas of specialization. In my case, because there was a scarcity of schools specializing in the Finnish language and Finnish history, I remained in limbo until it was decided by the placement officer that I would be included in a graduate language program (designated as 9L) with the University of Illinois along with a handful of other trainees who were also specializing in northern European languages, such as Swedish or Norwegian. I considered myself extremely fortunate to be assigned to a graduate program even though I had not completed the requirements for a baccalaureate degree prior to my induction in to the Army.

Following the completion of processing, we were moved to a fraternity house on campus which became our living quarters for the duration of our stay at the university. We were also given considerable freedom in our daily routine which included a weekly seminar with our group leader who was a professor from the University of Illinois. We were also required to continue research into our particular language area, utilizing the university library for this purpose. Especially helpful was access to the "stacks" at the library which were not normally available to undergraduate students. This certainly facilitated our research efforts.

Rumors of a potential breakup of the ASTP program (due to heavy combat losses) began to circulate shortly after we had begun our studies. However, we who were at the graduate level felt that perhaps we would not be immediately affected. How wrong we were! Coming back to the fraternity house one day after lunch, I noticed some trainees huddled around a bulletin board which included a notice that apparently had been posted earlier that morning. The notice came as a shock and the message was quite clear: "The following EM (Enlisted Men) will proceed to Camp Polk, Louisiana for assignment with the 8th Armored Division." My name was included and in one fell swoop, our college sojourn was ending. Soon we would be on our way to join a combat division whose eventual mission would remain a source of speculation as well as a certain degree of trepidation.

Dressed in our class "A" uniforms, the long train ride from Champaign, Illinois to Camp Polk, Louisiana went reasonably well for most of us. As we reached our destination, I inquired of the conductor what it was like in the Camp Polk area. He looked at me for a moment and then said, "Son, I won't lie to you, but it is the asshole of the South." Great welcome, I thought. What other good news should we expect?

As we prepared to depart from the train in the early darkness, I noticed some soldiers milling around with red ribbons wrapped around their helmets and wondered what was going on. I also noticed a lineup of 2-1/2 ton trucks which I assumed were there to transport us to our barracks. This seemed reasonable because we were still dressed in our class "A" uniforms. But no, we were informed, the division was still on maneuvers and that we would join them in the field. Sure enough, we were loaded into the trucks and after traveling for about an hour (or so it seemed), we wound up in a desolate wooded area. After the trucks stopped, we unloaded and we were issued several blankets and told to bed down for the night under the stars. Surely, I thought, this is a temporary situation and soon we would be transported to our permanent barracks in Camp Polk.

As it turned out, it would be awhile before we would have the luxury of sleeping in a real bed in a barracks setting. It soon became abundantly clear that joining a combat division still on maneuvers did not make for an easy transition from life on a college campus that we had enjoyed under the ASTP program.

Processing to determine which division unit that we would be assigned began almost immediately. Rumor had it that anyone six feet or taller would automatically be assigned to one of the infantry battalions. Lucky for me, I thought, because I was only five feet and seven inches in height. As it turned out, my assignment was Troop C, 88th Calvary Reconnaissance Squadron (Mechanized). Nothing in my background suggested any particular relevance for this assignment other than the Division's need for filling their manpower slots with any available bodies.

My lack of appropriate prior military training was perhaps more forcefully emphasized when the platoon sergeant started firing questions at me concerning experience with the M-1 rifle, carbine, 30 caliber machine gun, etc. When I responded negatively to all of his questions, his face turned red and, in a rising tone of voice he yelled, "What the Jesus Christ have you been doing all this time in the goddamn Army?" Obviously, he was not very happy about the army's decision to saddle his platoon with snot-nosed college kids who didn't seem to know the butt end of a rifle from the barrel. As for myself, winding up as a mortar gunner (which was my classification) in a combat platoon of a mechanized cavalry troop did not seem to make much sense either, but that was the Army way, I finally concluded.

Square pegs in round holes. So what else was new? Despite the rocky beginning, our training for combat duty proceeded as scheduled. Familiarity and proficiency with such combat weapons, such as the M-1 rifle, carbine, 30 caliber machine gun, 60 mm mortar and hand grenades were involved in our training as well as the pulse-quickening experience of having to crawl through an infiltration course under live machine gun fire. By late summer, the Division's combat readiness status had been achieved and it was only a matter of a few weeks or so before we would be alerted for oversees duty. The speculation was that we would be going to Europe where other armored divisions had wound up. The order finally came and on October 27, 1944, we boarded a troop train and began our journey to Camp Kilmer, New Jersey, where we would undergo further processing before embarking on ships to cross the Atlantic Ocean on our way for combat duty in Europe.

Our stay at Camp Kilmer was relatively brief. Most of the time was spent on last-minute preparations, including inoculations and final physical examinations. Much appreciated also was a pass to New York City which was my first visit to that city. We were also under strict censorship, not to divulge any information about the Division or its movements. Later on, we learned that Germany, through its network of spies and agents, had knowledge of virtually every combat division that left the states for duty in Europe. Ours was probably no exception.