October 31, 1946
OUR ARMY AND NAVY BOYS
Mrs. Howard R. Wilfong, of Phoebus, Virginia, sends in the following letter received from the Navy Department concerning the death of her husband:
Dear Mrs. Wilfong,
Your husband, Howard Raymond Wilfong, Fire Controlman, third class, United States Naval Reserve, has been carried on the official records of the Navy Department in the status of Missing in Action, as of August 9, 1945, while serving aboard the U. S. S. Borie. All available information concerning your husband has previously been forwarded to you in a letter from his commanding Officer.
In view of the probability that your husband lost his life as the result of a Kamikaze plane attack or while in the water, because no official or unconfirmed reports have been received that he survived because his name has not appeared on any lists of reports of personnel liberated from Japanese prisoners of war camps, and in view of the length of time that has elapsed since he was reported missing in action, I am reluctantly forced to the conclusion that he is deceased…
I know what little solace the formal and written word can be to help meet the burden of your loss, but in spite of that knowledge, I cannot refrain from saying very simply, that I’m sorry. It is hoped that you may find comfort in the thought that your husband gave his life for his country, upholding the highest tradition of the Navy.
Howard R. Wilfong is the son of Mr. and Mrs. John Denton Wilfong, of Marlinton. He went in the Navy in December 1943. He was born May 3, 1918 and lost his life serving his Country on August 9, 1945.
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Mrs. Dennis Jackson, of Marlinton, sends in the following letter from her son, Dennis L. Jackson, from Fort Knox, Kentucky:
October 16, 1946
Dear Mother and all;
Here I am with another Monday gone by. The time sure does pass slowly when you are a civilian, but in the army the time goes fast. I used to think that I would not like the army but the life here is O.K. I like it fine; the army life is just what you make it.
I am glad I am near home for if I get a three day pass, it will not take long to fly and I can come home. I can come over and jump right in the middle of the cornfield.
There is one thing wrong with the army and I get it tomorrow – that’s K.P.
I have lots of swell buddies; one of them is from Wheeling. We started together, and maybe we will end up together.
Fred Weiford left there when I did but we got separated in Indiana.
The best thing in the army is a G. I. party when they give you those brushes, soap and water and tell you to scrub the floors.
These shots in the army are not so bad, every two steps you take you get two shots.
You would be surprised how far you can walk in five minutes. We walked about five miles today but got the afternoon off. I sure like this better than working at the tannery.
I got a letter from Stella yesterday, but I did not get any mail today. So, if any of the West Virginia people ask about me tell them to drop me a few lines, I will be glad to answer all I receive.
Please tell Dad not to work so hard, and tell Don and Creola hello and be good. Don’t you do too much, Mother, and when you hear I am coming in, have a big pot of beans cooked. I never get any here. Maybe I should have joined the Navy and got Navy Beans, ha, ha.
Lots of love and goodnight.
All this writing is merely leading up to insistent urgent words to come out and vote on election day
The text is found in the elections held last week in parts of Germany. It was the first election to be held in 14 years, and the first really free election since nobody knows how long. It is beside the point that the radical Russian party of the extreme left ran a very poor third. What is also beside the mark is that a liberal middle of the road party pulled a great plurality. What does count is that out of about two million and a quarter of qualified voters, more than two million of them came out and voted. The unhappy people of that unhappy land have had their lesson. A blatherskite got into high office when the people were not looking; popular elections were done away with; he promised them the world, and in trying for it, they lost their all.
The results of last week’s election in parts of Germany give the truth to the old saying, “we do not miss the water until the well goes dry.”
My, how I hate to take a lesson from Germany, but the record of free America, with its turnout of about half the voters in off-year elections, does not stand up so well beside the first tottering step of Berlin toward democracy with its ninety percent turnout.
Come out and vote.
At midnight, in his red caboose,
The Cap lay dreaming of the day
The union turned its hellions loose –
No trains moved on the right of way.
He woke bug-house and full of beans,
This made disciple of hot air;
“Strike till the ship of state careens!
Rip, rally, resolute and rare!”
He struck – the motor cars honked high
The jobless clamored to be hired.
He struck to win his point or die.
And he did neither – he was fired.
Early one morning last week, a grouse flew against the house of Mrs. Bessie McClintic on Lower Camden Avenue, and killed himself. Later in the week, Edward Wagner saw a grouse on his house on Lower Camden, and proceeded to shoot it off. Then in a day or two, another grouse lit on the residence of Dice Grimes. This one got away.
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Harry S. Moore found and cut a bee tree near his farm between Dunmore and Frost. A bear had found the tree first, and in his try at the honey, he had clawed and gnawed a hole a gallon bucket would go in. the hole was about thirty feet from the ground.
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Some weeks back, Cody Bridger Alderman was home with his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Alderman, of Douthards, on leave from the Navy. One day he was following the long fire trail on Middle Mountain to see what he could see, and he carried a small rifle. Finally, some distance ahead he saw a large varment in the weeds and low underbrush along the trail. As it crossed the trail, he took a pop shot, just for luck. Evidently, he shot under it, for the varment came out of there to jump up on the side of a tree for to look around. Its body was about four feet long, its color was a deep brindle, and it had a long tail. Without a doubt a panther. Mr. Alderman took another shot, evidently just scratching the varment, for the bullet cut plenty of hair, but there was no blood sign. The panther went away from that place, over into Dry Run draft.