It follows that the majority of the west coast to Chicago passenger trains, of that time, had to make their way through our little town and I exulted in them!  I mention these facts because railroading dominated my young life, and at one time I fully expected to become a locomotive engineer.  My father, however, discouraged the idea of my ever working for the railroad.

As the nation's depression of the 30's was upon us, we did not possess a car.   The limited traveling we did do was by way of my father's railroad pass which permitted members of the family to travel at no charge on most of the country's railroads in coach-class accomodations.

Bertram had only an eighth grade school so, to go to high school, I had to go to the city of Cedar Rapids; ten miles away.   Without a car, it posed a problem.   Since my parents insisted on the education, my mother, who was a good money-manager, arranged for me to, some of the time, share a ride with another area scholar (having access to a car) or to stay in the city for limited periods of time with my two older sisters who shared a small apartment, there. 

The family consisted of me and my three sisters.   Their ages extended from 10-15 years older than I.   My mother ran a "tight ship", was very meticulous, hard working, religious and very involved in our local church.   My father was strong, hard working, less religious and not given to anger unless provoked.

As my sisters grew old enough, they each moved out to find gainful employment and such would be the case with me.  In the meantime, however, besides doing chores around home, I earned a little money from a modest Sunday-paper route, worked on area farms doing chores and, as I grew bigger and stronger, during summer vacations I was given the job of stoking a lime-crusher (hammer-mill) in a stone quarry.

At about fifteen, my folks were able to finance a car.   My sister's boy friend taught me to drive.  (He would become almost a big brother to me.)   Also, a little later I began to pay more attention to girls and, soon, one young lady (Ruthie) seemed to dominate my attention.  We started dating, limitedly, and rather soon found ourselves talking about a possible future together.

After high school graduation I found work as a laborer in a feed mill.  It was a plant making various kinds of livestock feed; most of which was sacked in one hundred pound bags.   The heavy, hot, dusty environmment provoked a case of appendicitis.   Thereafter, I searched for other work and one day came across a news-brief, in which was stated, that the U.S. Marine Corps was welcoming enlistments for service in various parts of the world.   It had a romantic appeal to me, as I had had an uncle who was a Marine in WWI; besides, it did offer some opportunities I might not otherwise be able to attain.

It had a 'downside', though, since I would be leaving "Ruthie".   However, she was stoic about it and, bravely, wished me goodbye at the Cedar Rapids railroad station on the morning of December 7th, 1939.  I expected to be able to come home 'on leave' after boot camp, or in about three or four months.  Such was not to be the case, however.

Arriving in San Diego's boot camp became a major "culture shock" but, since I would be sharing it with a bunch of other guys about my age, it would become bearable.   The only award, or distinction of any sort, was shooting "marksman" at the range.   After boot camp there was a brief sojurn at Pendleton where I worked in the galley, etc.

One day a Sergeant lined us up and, going through the roster, issued us new assignments.   Those of us still unassigned were then asked the question "Are there any of the rest of you who DON'T want to go to the Asiatics?   If so, speak up now".  While I was still thinking about it the Sergeant 'signed off '.   I was headed for the Asiatics!  After loading the USS Henderson, in Mare Island, we were off.  After stops in Hawaii, Guam and Manila we finally arrived in Shanghai in May, 1940.  There, except for the few going on up to Peking and Tientsin for embassy duty, we disembarked and were assigned to various company's in the 4th Marine Regiment.

I went to Company A, 1st Battalion whose billet was on Ferry Road.  The 4th Marine Regiment personified the American presence in the International Settlement of Shanghai; it's duty was to protect and defend American citizens and property in that enclave.   Our authority, therefore, was restricted to within it's boundry lines.   We also shared a military presence in the Settlement with a force of British and of Scots.  Adjoining the Settlement was another area called the French Concession and, because of what was happening in Europe, was 'out of bounds' to us.  Occupying the rest of the surrounding area was the Japanese Army.  That territory was, of course, also 'out of bounds' to us.

Shanghai, to me was an overwhelming mix of congestion, various nationalities, filth, poverty and bad smells, co-existing alongside a cordial, inviting bazaar of international charm, grace, beauty and opulence.   For us Marines it was a good duty tour.  Our pay went a long way, we had room boys in our billets to do some of our chores, we enjoyed great respect and there were a lot of things to do.  The 4th Marine Club was the social hub of our off-duty life.

I was adjusting to becoming a Marine!  "A" Company was a 'line' company with guard duty and drills being standard fare.  However, because I was sort of a "jock strap", a friend later on was helpful in getting me transferred into Battalion Hdqs.   There, my primary duty became that of driving a guard truck.   I played six-man football and was on the softball teem.

(At Woochen Bridge across Soochow Creek, Sept. 1940)

About Thanksgiving time, 1941, the 4th Marine Regiment left Shanghai, supposedly to go on maneuvers "in the field".  The leaving was not without sadness and considerable pomp and ceremony.   The Second Battalion left a day before our First Battalion did.   Each battalion departed aboard a different President liner.   The Second Battalion was aboard the USS Madison while the First Battalion went aboard the USS Harrison.   (I was anxious to tell my Ruthie that I'd made an ocean trip on a liner bearing her maiden name.)   Our destination was Olongapo, Subic Bay, Philippines. The "Harrison" was later captured by the Japanese as it returned to China just at the start of the War.

Enroute through the straits of Formosa we passed through a flotilla of Japanese warships.  It was in the dead of night and, since I was on watch, I suddenly realized that the "Harrison's" engines were slowing and, I think, we totally stopped.   Out on deck, in the darkness, signal lights were flashing from a scattering of ships all about us.   Soon, though, the "Harrison" resumed headway and things went back to normal.  Next morning an American submarine surfaced nearby and was our 'escort' to Subic Bay.   When we arrived, we noted that they were under 'blackout' conditions, there.   That struck me as rather ominous.

I believe, now, that I must have been very naive then, because much of what was happening really held no portent to me.   It was all in a day's work, so to speak.   On the morning of December 8th, (1941) we fell out for early reveille, 4:00 a.m., as on that day we were scheduled to move our equipment and personnel down the coast, by barge, to a place called Mariveles.   While standing in the 'chow line' we were suddenly alarmed by the arrival of one of our officers, on the run, shouting that Oahu had been bombed and that the United States was, officially, at war with the Empire of Japan.  I believe, that at that time, my youthful life seemed to acquire a far more serious dimension.

The battalion went about it's business of loading the barge for our trip down the coast.  At about mid-morning we got under way and the trip was uneventful until about noon when we came into sight of Manila Bay.   It was then that, alarmingly, we could hear the approaching drone of seemingly many high flying planes.   Then, abruptly, through broken clouds we could see them; formations of Japanese bombers winging their way out over the south China Sea, presumably toward Formosa.  They were, apparently, out-bound from Manila where they would have dropped their loads.   Chilling reality hit me!   "This is no drill!   You fool, what are you doing here?"   This was just the first of many subsequent misgivings.

After debarking at Mariveles we went into an encampment outside of the village where we stached our supplies, equipment, etc. and then waited for further orders.   They soon came; we would be crossing 2-3 miles of Manila Bay to go onto the fortress of Corregidor.   How lucky could we get; as far as we were concerned, what with all of its guns and things, Corregidor was impervious to the Japs.   The joy was short lived, however!

On the first full day after arriving on Corregidor, right during noon chow, Corregidor's deep, gutteral air raid siren roared into life.   As we spilled out of the galley, Corregidor's anti-aircraft guns were already opening up.   A hasty glance at the sky showed formations of high-flying bombers proceeding, one group behind the other, silvery in the sun and clear blue sky, approaching directly overhead.   The growing crescendo of their engines was ominous.

Within moments, there was the sudden crushing, whooshing force of exploding bombs, distressingly, near to where we lay sprawling on the ground.   I and others legged it for a concrete barracks building nearby.   I took refuge in a shower stall feeling somewhat secure in knowing that there were 3 floors of reinforced concrete overhead.   Again, thoughts of safety were quickly dispelled when a 'stick' of bombs suddenly came staccatoing through the building.   One of them pentrated into the room adjoining, but did not detonate.   Debris and dust rained about!   The air, literally, vibrated and hummed!

For the next couple of hours, formation after formation of Jap bombers rained havoc on the island fortress destroying barracks, utilities and numerous buildings.   After SECURE sounded, smoke and fire was all about.   Fires were quickly extinguished and attention was given to the wounded.   The report that night was, few lives had been lost on the island and none of the major gun batteries had been damaged.   I don't remember how many, but quite a few Jap bombers and their crews were lost in the course of this day's raid over the fortress.   We all were painfully aware that no longer was Corregidor absolutely impervious.

That night the regiment was deployed at scattered points about the perimeter of the island; we became Corregidor's beach defense.   I was transferred from the Hdq. Company (no more guard truck) to "B" Company (a line-outfit) as a rifleman and assistant squad leader.   Our position was at the eastern part of the island, beyond Malinta Hill; rather near the point at which the Japanese would subsequently make their landing attempt.   Specifically, we were to the west of the seaplane hangar and over-looked Fort Hughes, in the distance.   "Home" became one's own foxhole!

From that time, until Corregidor's surrender 5 months later, there were many, many air raids.   The raids were always stressful to me because of the island's topography.   Briefly, the island was narrow and sort of long.   The Jap bombers almost always approached from the west which took them over the length of the island's narrowness.   Therefore, to my chagrin and constant anxiety, the bombers almost always had to pass directly over our positions, depending upon where, on the island, their particular target was.   There were many days when our area was either the primary target, adjoining one or just too close to one.

When Bataan surrendered, in April, a new dimension of terror was added!   The Japs were now in position on the peninsula to set up batteries of their 240mm mountain mortars.   They needed to hasten the demise of Corregidor.   (All this time, Manila Bay had been worthless to the Japs because Corregidor stymied them.)   So May became a period of constant punishment by bombs and by shelling, causing total disruption of ground activities and communications, limited rations, frayed nerves and growing depression among the men.   Hope for reinforcement ended!

On the night of May 5th, the Japanese made their landing attempt.   We were alerted by runner (no phones or radios) that the sound of landing craft had been heard approaching from the direction of Bataan.   Several of the senior non-coms in the area assembled about 150 or so of us, in the watering-point area, into a loosely-knit group.   We proceeded along the road toward the landing area at Monkey Point.   In the darkness, we quickly made unexpected contact, long before reaching the landing area.   A number of Japs must have somehow infiltrated earlier in the evening and were able to occupy an almost deserted, destroyed anti-aircraft battery lying almost directly to our front.   We found several of the battery-personnel dead around it's perimeter.

The well-deployed Japs put us under heavy automatic weapons fire and we rapidly took cover.   In a short time I heard voices approaching from behind us; the direction from which we had just come.   Someone near by said it was "D" Company (machine gun and mortar company) coming to our help.   Good News!!   In minutes (or perhaps it was moments) the Japs suddenly opened up intensely and, briefly, in the moonlight I saw "D" company commander, Capt. Castle, crumple to the ground, dead.

Our sergeants maneuvered us out of that area and took us a little further toward the east from which we could more effectively bring fire to bear on the Jap position.   We were formed into a skirmish line, taking cover behind anything one could find.   All through the remainder of the night ... there was moonlight through intermittent cloud cover ... both sides rained fire on the other's position.

It was shortly after daylight!   Using a small pile of rubble as cover, I, along with the other Marines flanking me, were directing our gunfire into a clump of ground cover where the Japs were holed-up.   It was near the base of a damaged water tower about 250-300 yards to our front.   The sergeant who had been maintaining a long, loud, harangue ordered us to 'fix bayonets'.   My heart sank!   [I didn't know until later that, during the night, two of our sergeants had made their way to the top of that water tower and were lobbing hand grenades into the Jap's position.   Their bravery cost them their lives as the Japs finally were able to target them.]

Suddenly, I experienced an intense, searing pain in my left side and realized I'd been hit.   (Out of all of the gunfire erupting about me, I'm sure I sensed the precise muzzle sound of the shot that hit me.)   I yelled that I'd been hit and asked about a corpsman.   I was told that there was one, in the area, but was about a hundred yards away standing-by in the protection of a bombed-out shell of an old building.   In a crouching run I covered the space and found the corpsman there, bravely ready to help.   He applied a large dressing to the wound and said that I ought to escape the area and try to get to the field hospital in Malinta Tunnel, about a mile or so away.   With much very good fortune, I made it and was in the hospital ward, at noon, when the fortress's surrender came about.

The Japs kept hands-off of the hospital area; leaving it completely under the care of the American and Filipino staff.   While I was confined in the hospital, the main body of prisoners was taken from the island.   Thereafter, those of us, as we healed, were discharged into the custody of Japanese guards who then placed us in one of several work details situated about Corregidor.

I stayed on "the rock" for about a year and then was moved through Bilibid, briefly, before being shipped in railroad box-cars to Clark Field.   I was there for about another year and ended-up being shipped to Japan, on the Noto Maru, in the summer of 1944.   I labored in a copper mine in Hanawa, in northern Japan until the end of the war.

My weight at repatriation was 126 lbs (normal being about 170).   I had a tropical ulcer on my left shin which the hospital on Guam treated with raw penicillin.   I incurred a tempra-mandibular jaw dysfunction (at the hands of a Jap guard) and would find out later that my spine had suffered some damage (in the course of another "disciplinary" action).   Being rescued by the Americans and to once again experience freedom was such a fantastic thrill that words are hard to come by.   Suffice it to say that, to this day I get teary-eyed at the slightest act of patriotism.

When I got back home, I found that 'my Ruthie' (having been told that I was missing in action and presumed dead) was married and living in California.   (Fifty years later, after both of us had raised families and lost spouses, by virtue of her perseverance in trying to trace old family ties, she was astounded to find me in Iowa, quite alive!   The astonishment was mutual on my part!   We got together and are now enjoying each other at her home in Pebble Beach, California.)

At this time Ruthie and I are in pretty good health and enjoy our ambitious bird sanctuary, here on the Monterey Peninsula.   We make every effort to attend reunions and she, being extraordinarily computer-literate, has encouraged me to "get with it", which I am now doing.

You may have recognized "Ruthie" as the WEB MISTRESS for the ADBC Website!