The fair was a memorable event. We saw many exhibits of futuristic projects that were just dreams at the time: freeways… television… air travel… and many other displays we thought were only fantasies, a free play of creative imaginations. But we have lived to see all those things come to pass and much, much more.

Nelina was chosen (because she was such a beautiful girl) to be on a telecast. We went to another room to view this event in black and white.

While at the Fair we rode the free drop parachute fall. I don’t think my sister Marjorie realized what was going to happen until the chute hit the trip and we fell to the earth.

One evening while in New York, we discovered that the one and only fish we had caught while in Minnesota was still in the trunk of the car. Need I say more? A fishy aroma clung to our car until we sold it in 1941.

Milo was a member of Company I in the 34th Infantry Division in Sheldon. Every summer he went to an encampment for two weeks. While there, he and members of his company were notified that the National Guard would soon be activated. The entire National Guard was soon called up for action and Company I was kept at the Sheldon Armory for several weeks beginning on February 1, 1941.

Their day of departure for active duty finally came. Church bells rang and bands played as the entire Company of 120 young men marched to the Union Depot to board a troop train for Camp Claiborne in Louisiana. The day impacted citizens of Sheldon emotionally. Wives, mothers, brothers and sisters, friends and neighbors gathered at the depot to say farewell. The dark, cloudy day matched the mood of the people in that melancholy atmosphere. Those men would be trained for one year before being sent to England and later to North Africa where many of them paid the supreme sacrifice with their lives.

With Milo gone, we had to hire more help at the dry cleaning shop. Many of the young women of our town began to take jobs formerly held by men. Selective Service was brought into the picture and all males under 40 years of age had to register and be classified. 1-A was given to young single men; students and married men were classified as 2-A; the classification of 3-A was assigned to men over 25, married with children; I was given the classification 3-A – married, one child, and 25 years old.

Inasmuch as I had already served four years in the Navy and had lived in a town of 4,00 people, I was frequently asked, “When are you going to enlist, with all that training you’ve had?” War had not yet been declared so I put the matter aside for eleven months into 1941.

We had an ample amount of employees in the shop during the month of December that year and business was slow. So, on December 3, at about 11a.m. I phoned Nelina and suggested we drive to California for a couple of weeks. Although we had only been married for three and a half years she was already prepared for these hasty decisions.

“Yes, I promise, we’ll be home for Christmas”, I told my wife.

We did not realize it then that four years would pass before we live together in Sheldon again.

We left Sheldon at about 2 p.m. on December 3, 1941. Grandma Hoevens hurried over to help Nelina pack. Vic. Jr. was two and a half years old. Just as I was leaving the office Hessel Dyksta, a young man who helped in the cleaning plant, walked in and heard that we were going to California. “Is there room for me, too?” he asked.

“Be at our house in one hour,” I told him.

We decided to drive south to Louisiana first to visit my brother Milo and other friends at Camp Claiborne. We arrived there on December 5 and spent Friday evening, and all day Saturday, with him. We left early in the morning of December 7.

It is difficult to put into words the emotion we felt when the first words of that calamitous news struck. Every adult American alive at that time has carefully carved out in his mind a sort of mental souvenir of that moment. We all knew that our lives would be changed by what had just happened in Hawaii. Washington quickly confirmed the report.

We all sat momentarily stunned by the news. “Let’s go back to Iowa,” Nelina suggested.

“Everything is going to happen on the West Coast,” I said. We will all be in military service very soon.”

It was decided that we would drive on to Long Beach, California. Hessel had a 1-A classification so he would be inducted quickly. Somber thoughts characterized the rest of the trip. No one knew what would happened next. Along the road to California we saw many armed convoys heading west. Many of the main bridges were protected by armed guards posted to prevent sabotage.

On the 11th of December I went to the Naval Recruiting Station to see what was happening. Hundreds of men were milling about. The Long Beach Press-Telegram reported that there were “thousands of men” at the Civil Service office but if they weren’t A-1, they couldn’t be processed for several days. I read that guards were needed at the Douglas Air Craft factory so I worked there for a couple of weeks.

Paul Niewenhuis notified me that he was going to enlist in the Navy so there was no presser at our dry cleaning plant. This caused us to drive non-stop back to Sheldon and work out this problem.

The matter resolved, we headed back to Long Beach, towing a small trailer to live in after we got there. Our Ford was overloaded so we blew out several tires along the way. All sales of tires were frozen for the duration of the war so old, second-hand tires finally got us to California.

It is now March 1 and the shipyards are calling for workers. I took a job as a machinist and worked on the main engine of a Liberty ship. My sister, Leone, and her new husband Sid lived in the same trailer park: 2930 Long Beach Boulevard. Sid and I rode together, had the same days off, and enjoyed this fellowship. Sid was drafted on about May1, 1942 as the war heated up. I went again to the enlistment center for the Navy. Upon learning that I had been a journeyman machinist the recruiters offered me a First Class rating in the Black Gang. I wanted to have a deck rating so did not accept this proposal.

On the elevator going down to the street I met a Coast Guardsman from the recruiting office. Upon hearing my desire to be a Boatswain he said, “Come in. I think we can take care of that.” I was assured that there were plenty of slots for sea duty. A short time later I found myself back in uniform as a First Class Boatswain Mate in the U.S. Coast Guard.

I was assigned a 60-foot fireboat with 28 sailors. Think of it – farm boy from Iowa a captain of his own ship! With me at the helm we sailed that boat to San Diego and tied up to a dock with a small building on it to house the men. Our only job was to put out fires on ships, in case the Japanese bombed San Diego.

This was really a dream job. We pulled the trailer to San Diego where Nelina, Vic and I lived in a park right on the ocean. Every day we would take the boat into the bay and shoot water into the air or aim it at a buoy about 200 yards away. It soon became clear to me that I didn’t want to spend my time doing this kind of duty.

When an order came through to send two petty officers to Baltimore, Maryland for schooling in fire fighting and Port Security School, I knew this was an opportunity for a change of duty. So, I made arrangements for Nelina and Vic to return to Iowa and live with her parents. I went on to Ft. McHenry, Maryland.

On the first day I met the Commander of the base. He told me he had just been transferred from the U.S.S. Duane, the finest ship in the Coast Guard. He offered to take me there at once and make arrangements. When the Captain heard that I had four years duty on a battleship he told me to go back and get my seabags. The transfer would be in my hands before I got my bags packed. So, within 48 hours I was out to sea on convoy duty.