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Around the first of August, 1943, Basil sent for
me. I boarded a train for San Diego. It was my first trip by
train, other than on what we called the Motor, which carried
passengers and mail from Paris to Ennis, Texas. This was some
trip! There was no air conditioning; it had broken down. If
you have ever been in Texas in August, you know whereof I speak.
Several times our train was sidetracked for hours while other
trains went by on the main track--probably carrying troops or
military supplies. There were very few complaints about the
discomfort though.
There were four soldiers from somewhere in the South on the train
and they appointed themselves my guardians. A good thing, too,
because when we changed trains in El Paso, they were only
permitting service men and their spouses to board--I would have
been scared out of my wits in El Paso! One of the soldiers
said I was his wife, so I got on. My ticket called for me to
change trains again in Yuma. The soldiers, who were going to Los
Angeles before changing, begged me not to get off. They said I
could change in Los Angeles instead, but I was afraid to not do
as my ticket directed, so I got off. A later train trip to San
Diego proved the soldiers right--but Basil was with me then and
I wasn't afraid.
The train I was supposed to change to was thirteen hours late.
There was no vacant place to spend the night in Yuma, so I slept
on the cement floor of the ladies rest room at the train
station. Sand was really blowing and was all over the floor I
slept on--what a miserable place to spend a night! Anyway, my
train did finally come the next day and I had no more changes
until San Diego. The San Diego & Arizona Eastern Railroad went
through part of Mexico on the way to San Diego--my first time to
be out of the USA.
When we arrived in San Diego, I was expecting to see Basil, but
he had duty that day--wife or no wife. We did have an alternate
plan, though, so I took a cab to where Basil's mother's friend,
Gladys Bridges, lived at 4201 Ocean View Boulevard. Basil came
out the next day (Sunday) and we went to the Mission Beach
Amusement Center--my first roller coaster ride.
They found out I had been editor of our high school paper, so I
was soon recruited to write a column for the "Ryan Reporter," a
little monthly news magazine the company published for their
employees.
On Monday, Virginia (Gladys' daughter) took me to the employment
office of the place where she worked. Ryan Aeronautical
Company (the company which built Lindgergh's Spirit of St.
Louis) snatched me up almost before I got in the door. My
beginning job was driving a Buda (a little 3-wheeled vehicle)
all over the plant, taking papers and parts from department to
department. They decided to put me in the Inspection Department,
however, after I almost ran my supervisor down (I AM my father's
daughter!).
Basil's mother came out in November to be with Basil as much as
she could before he went overseas. There were only two kinds of
marines those days--the ones overseas and the ones going
overseas. Mother, too, went to work at Ryan. And the rains
came. From mid-November, 1943, to mid-February, 1944, it rained
at least some every day. Gladys had moved to an apartment at
Frontier Homes Defense Housing by then and Virginia rode the bus
down Midway Drive to work. The water was up to the steps on the
buses once--I guess Virginia didn't work that day. Being a
Texan, I was not accustomed to a "rainy season." If you don't
like the weather in Texas, we always said, just stick around --
it will change in five minutes. But San Diego has a definite
rainy season in winter, and it may not rain again for months
once the season is over.
Mother and I made up a box of "goodies" for the guys in Basil's
outfit at Christmas--fruit cake, candy, and whatever else we
thought they might like. When we finished, it weighed over
twenty pounds. Taking it to them was up to Basil. Poor guy
-- he had to lug that heavy box ten miles out to Tent Camp in
the rain. We spent Christmas Day, 1943, at the beach.
Then January 13th rolled around--I was about to learn what it
really meant to be the wife of a Marine. I stood on Point Loma
and watched the convoy sail away, taking my husband with it.
It was a sad and very lonely feeling. I had never felt so alone
before in my life. When the convoy passed over the horizon, I
went to work. The day after Basil left, Mother went back to
Texas, and I was really all alone.
Since I was employed by a defense firm and the trailers were for
defense workers, Basil and I were able to rent one of the
trailers. Our first home in San Diego was a 26-foot trailer
which was supposed to sleep four. Every time Basil came in the
door, he knocked his barracks hat off. I was working 48-54 hours
most weeks, sometimes longer. Basil was assigned to Camp
Pendleton about a month after I arrived in San Diego and
assigned to Team 3.3 of the First JASCO of the Fourth Marine
Division. Since he was the only married guy in the outfit, the
other guys took turns standing duty for him when it was his turn
to have duty, so he could come home every night. He went back
and forth on the Greyhound Bus. We really appreciated what
those guys in his outfit did for us.
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