Our Boys with the Colors

Coconuts, cannibals and the Coney Island of the South Pacific – all were wondrous sights encountered by Gulf County men serving in World War II.

For many of those who wore the uniform, the war marked their first time away from the comforts of home.

In their letters home, many of which were printed in The Star's regular "Our Boys with the Colors" column, the men described in colorful detail their journeys to far away lands.

Though many would lament the rainy weather, mosquitoes and other troublesome creatures inhabiting their new surroundings, others found beauty in strange places.

James Traweek had encountered far worse conditions when he arrived in the Southwest Pacific in the summer of 1944.

In a July 18, 1944 letter to Star editor William S. "Bill" Smith, Traweek described an exotic land where coconuts and tropical fruits hung from trees, parrots gathered in jungles and natives wore coats of many colors.

"The natives are very friendly, and they look and act quite comical, wearing parts of different kinds of uniforms that they have acquired from almost every branch of service of the Allied nations," wrote Traweek, who was struck by the native's unusual adornments.

"Some of them have short sticks or bones stuck through their noses and safety pins through their ear lobes."

Though he complained about the rainy weather and occasional mosquito, Traweek knew that, as a soldier, he had it good.

"When we aren't working on our planes we spend our spare time playing ball, swimming and taking short hikes into the jungle. So you see we don't have a bad time of it at all. In fact, Mrs. Rossevelt called this island the 'Coney Island of the Southwest Pacific.'"

No more lamb

In a lengthy dispatch to Smith, Dave Maddox described life on a large coconut plantation, where he was stationed in July of 1945.

Maddox had explored the island thoroughly, finding evidence of cannibals or "head hunters," bats with 36-inch wingspans and the world's largest snakes.

While banana hunting in a jungle echoing with unnerving sounds, he encountered a hillside waterfall inhabited by crayfish the size of lobsters.

The native villagers, who dressed in leaves, scraps of cloths and little else, intrigued Maddox, who likened their huts to Florida's palmetto shacks.

"They eat quite a bit of pork," Maddox noted, "and if one chief goes visiting another he carries a pig under his arm and presents it as a friendly gift."

One of the islands had an active volcano that gave Maddox and his fellow sailors the occasional "shakeup," and an inviting, clear ocean held sharks and barracuda beneath.

Maddox enjoyed eating the island's ripe bananas, but he developed a distaste for lamb through sheer repetition.

"Guess I had better close now and go to chow," he signed off. "We will have lamb, I know. It never fails. I expect to start bleating any time now."

Englishman and Amazons

William "Bill" Coody shared his impressions of our brothers across the pond in an October 23, 1943 letter to Smith.

Coody, who was then stationed with the 339th Service Squadron in North Africa, described his first experiences overseas in England, a land of vegetable gardens and Amazon women.

Coody marveled at a woman doing taxing work in her home garden and another swinging a sledge hammer on the railroad.

"Wow! I thought to myself, 'What are these people, a race of Amazons?'" Coody remarked.

Upon further examination of British customs, Coody realized that the hardworking, able-bodied women were but two examples of "how the people of England have entered the total war.  They talk war, think war, eat war and sleep war."

The British families he met in town proved hospitable hosts, inviting him to share their dinner despite country-wide food rationing.

British civilians plied him with questions, and Coody answered graciously.

"I only hope that my love for my native land didn't lead me to misrepresent it to them," he wrote.

Coody took everything in – the famous fog, the blackest blackouts he'd ever seen, even the caste system that shackled the lower and middle classes, rendering upward mobility all but impossible.

He learned some practical wisdom, too. "I found that if you want a fight on your hands, just call a Scotsman an Englishman—then start swinging."

"One in a million"

Even on the remotest islands of the South Pacific, Port St. Joe men encountered one another in uniform.

The reunions were always joyous affairs, bringing a bit of home to homesick soldiers and sailors.

Traweek closed his July 18, 1944 letter by describing chance encounters with old pals Frank LaGrange and Buck Watters.

Watters was headed back to the U.S., while LaGrange had bought a parrot off of a native, which he'd taught a few words.

"I sure enjoyed talking over old times with them, for they were the first ones that I had seen from St. Joe in about a year," wrote Traweek.

Coody's "one chance in a million" encounter with pal Charles Pridgeon in North Africa made front page news on March 26, 1943.

In a letter to his sister, Myrtice, Coody said he'd been walking to work when he heard someone say, "Well if it isn't Billy!'

Since his comrades called him either Bill or Coody, he knew the voice must have belonged to someone from home.

When he turned around to see Pridgeon, he was overjoyed.

"I sure am glad that he is stationed here at the same field as I am," wrote Coody. "It makes a fellow really feel good to be able to talk about home with someone who knows the same people that you know."

Frank LaGrange was spotted by a local boy in August of 1943 while eating chow at a navy base hospital in the South Pacific.

Alfred Whidding recognized LaGrange from his days working in the market at the Kenney Mercantile Company.

Reunions, Star style

The Star was instrumental in reuniting several servicemen by printing soldiers' mailing address in its pages.

Casey Jones looked fellow Blountstown native Paul K. Johnson up in Italy after reading an article about him in The Star.

Both grew up hearing the sounds of sawmills and spent two days in October 1944 reminiscing about home.

"It certainly is good to see a fellow from home 'way over here, and I was almost as glad to see him as if it had been either one of my brothers who are now in France," wrote Johnson.

Johnson continued to encounter familiar faces while stationed in Brazil in July 1945.

In a letter to Smith, Johnson described an encounter in Naples with his Alabama recruiting officer.

"He said it was a surprise to him when he saw me and I can say it was the same to me," wrote Johnson. "I never dreamed back in October of 1942 when I joined the AAF that I would ever again see the man who signed me up."

While in Brazil, Johnson met former classmate Hildur Sorenson: "He and I were in the 11th grade together when Mr. Cawthon was trying to pound Spanish into our heads. Now I am in a country where they speak Portuguese."

Sometimes seeing a familiar face in The Star was enough to make a soldier feel at home.

In a touching letter written from England on Christmas Eve 1943, Monroe Duncan thanked Smith for the "comforting and enjoyable" news from his first overseas edition of The Star.

 "When I opened the paper and saw my brother's picture there—Thomas Duncan—I felt as if Tom had walked in himself," wrote Duncan. "I sincerely am grateful to you for that happy experience."

Next week: Part III