Soldiers of World War II

Soldiers of World War ll by Tracy McCoy

According to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs it is estimated that there are around 300,000 WW ll vets still living in the United States. This number is down from 939,000 in 2015. The young men who volunteered and were drafted were really boys, many of whom had never been outside of the county where they were born and raised. In the early 40s the economic state in Appalachia was still reeling from the Great Depression. Times were very tough and families were large and jobs were scarce. A trip into town was rare so a ride to the local draft board to register under the Selective Training and Service Act of 1940 was not easy to find. Young men were required to register and if drafted must serve on active duty for at least 12 months. A national lottery was how future soldiers were chosen and a letter was sent and the young man had days to report for duty. I have had the privilege to interview two WW ll veterans about their service to our great nation. The picture that was painted in each scenario was one of boys sent to war. They didn’t know what to expect and were not told, they didn’t have knowledge of where they were headed or what would become of them. Barely time to say good-byes. Recently I was granted an interview by two local gentlemen who also served our country during World War ll.

Mr. Coyl Justice

Coyl Justice was born, raised and has spent the majority of his life on Betty’s Creek. He lives with his bride of 72 years, Mildred (Norton) Justice. The couple raised three children, Gary Justice, Mickey Justice and Julia (Justice) Taylor. They have 8 grandchildren, 23 great-grandchildren and 1 great-great-grandchild Here is where his story begins... Coyl was born to Alden and Naomi Justice in 1926. Coyl was the youngest of seven children. He went to school until the fifth grade and then he quit going. In those days every hand was needed to run the farm and keep food on the table. “My dad was a worrywart like I am now. When I turned 18 he asked if I’d been to register and I said I had not. He said he’d take me up to Franklin to get that done. I didn’t much want to do that but my Dad made the rules and I followed them.” Mr Justice told me. The father took his son to the courthouse in Franklin to sign up and the woman who took his information assured him he’d get a letter in the coming week. “She said it’d come and sure enough it did and I had to go,” he said. I asked Coyl if he had ever been outside of Rabun or Macon Counties and he said, “No, goodness no, but I got on a bus in Clayton headed for Asheville, North Carolina. When I arrived I got a good haircut and they sent me to the shower. I didn’t know what a shower was. We didn’t have one at the house.”

Within 2-3 days Coyl was headed to Fort Bragg for basic training. As most would tell you, basic training for the United States Army is not for the weak. We’ve all seen the movies where the drill instructor is screaming in the soldier’s faces. “It was pretty rough. You see I didn’t know what was wrong but I had a lot of pain in my stomach and I was told to get on another soldier’s back for training and the drill instructor told me to lean back and I said I can’t sir. Well you didn’t say ‘can’t’, he cursed at me and pushed me back down. It hurt me real bad. My stomach bothered me all the way through. I wouldn’t know until I much later what was wrong. Once he finished basic training Coyl was sent to Camp

Gladwinm, Florida for more training. The war was near its end but he would be part of the clean-up crew in the 4th Army. They called to say he’d be shipping out and they put him and the others on a Troop Train to Blanding, Florida. Next he boarded a Troop Train headed for California. I asked if he had any say in what job he’d be given and he said, “Whatever they needed you to do, you did. When we got to the Philippines we got on the QS boat and the Skipper said ‘I need a cook’. Well I was a good bit taller than the other guys and when he said that they all ducked down and there I stood. ‘You are the cook’, Skipper said pointing to me. I’d never done any cooking really, just a little when camping but I was trained and got pretty good at it,” he said smiling.

Kwanzaa Huts where soldier’s lived

Coyl with Lieutenant Lightfoot QS Boat

Wreckage of War Coyl Justice - continued on page 10 November 2020 - GML

Turning to Mildred I asked if he did much cooking at home and she said that he actually did most of the cooking during their marriage. “I finally found out what was wrong with my stomach when my appendix burst and I had to have surgery,” Mr Justice said. He got pretty sick and was sent to Clarke Air Base on Luzon Island in the Philippines. It was New Years Eve and most were out celebrating, so his surgery was performed by a nurse. “I made it through and in a couple days they carried me to the kwanza hut and one of the other soldiers helped me to the bathroom and they started to leave. I asked who’s gonna help me up, they turned to me and said ‘figure it out’. I reckon I did,” Coyl joked. “When I returned to the ship they had replaced me as cook and I was OK with that.” “It was hot there all the time and the mosquitos were real bad and they liked me. I got so many mosquito bites that I developed Malaria and spent 2 weeks back at Clark Field Air Base. I was very sick.” The mission of the boat that Coyl spent a year on was to zigzag the Pacific ocean picking up mines, there was a Lieutenant named Lightfoot that took a liking to Coyl and he remembers that he helped him a lot and he never forgot him. The first six months of that year Coyl spent learning and the second six he spent studying how to get off of that boat. He read about how to do it and went to the Captain of the ship and said “I am leaving the ship, and he told me I couldn’t or I’d be court marshaled, but I’d done my homework and knew that I would not, I had a plan. So I left the ship and went straight to my headquarters and spoke to them and they placed me in charge of running the projectors for the movies,” with a smile he said, “I liked that much better. I was glad to be off that ship,” I asked Coyl if he kept in touch with his family and he said he wrote letters to his sister and she would write back. I asked if he made any friends and he shared two stories with me, one about a fellow soldier named Bates from Hayesville, North Carolina who was in Basic Training with him and he kept up with him a little. And then there was a man named Huddleston from Buford, Georgia that he made friends with. He lost touch with him sadly. There was another fellow that was a Native American. He had made a machete but when he drank he got a little out of hand and was afraid he’d hurt someone, so he gave it to Coyl. He still has it and it has a beautifully carved handle and sheath made of wood. He had visited years later at Coyl’s home on Betty’s Creek but never asked for the machete back.

The other story of meeting up with someone from home was when Coyl attended Mulberry School in Otto, North Carolina as a boy. There was a female teacher and one afternoon he got into some trouble and she sent Homer Norton, another boy, to cut a hickory to whip Coyl. Well Homer brought back a stack pole, which was much bigger than a hickory. He said he had to hold that teacher to keep her from whooping him with that pole. She ended up leaving that day, leaving the students there by themselves till the bus came. The next day a man came to teach the students. Fast forward to Fort Bragg and each morning at roll call the man who took roll call would call out Justice and Coyl would say here and that fellow would stare at Coyl. So one day he came up and asked, “Justice, where are you from?” To which Coyl responded, “I am from Franklin, North Carolina, sir.” The fellow officer asked, “You don’t remember me?” and Coyl admitted he did not. “I was your teacher, Justice, at Mulberry School.” We agreed it is a small world! As the days turned into weeks his time was up. No notice was given. He remembers he was in the field and some planes came in taking the tops out of the trees. “Next thing I knew they called my name and handed me something saying I was shipping out. I can’t explain how glad I was to be going home. It was along trip from the Philippines to San Fransisco. When we got there they had the biggest breakfast you’ve ever seen for us to eat and milk, all the milk I could drink. I hadn’t had real milk in two years! I drank all I could, so much so that it made me sick. Later that day I boarded a Troop Train in Oakland, California to San Antonio, Texas where I was discharged from the United States Army. From there I boarded a plane, a C-47. They offered me a cheap trip to Atlanta and I took them up on it,” he continued. “When I arrived in Atlanta I caught a taxi to the bus station. I stepped up to the window and asked the lady, can I get a ticket to Clayton, Georgia? She looked at me and said, ‘Are you from Clayton, Georgia?’ No, I told her I was from Franklin, North Carolina but I’d have to go to Clayton first on the bus. She said to me ‘you don’t know me, do you?’ I told her no, I don’t reckon so and she said she was Pauline Norton, a girl I knew

from home. Her husband was a police officer and she called him to come get me. She could see how tired I was so he took me to their house and he let me get a shower and a bite to eat and I went to bed. The next day they drove me home. I sure did appreciate that,” Coyl said. Once he was home and settled in he went to Dillard one day with his brother Oakley and he say a beautiful young lady get out of a car at “Curly” Pennington’s. He took notice of her and asked his brother, “Who is that?” His brother replied, “That’s Mildred Norton.” He had known Mildred, but she sure had grown up and caught his attention. Well he was older and he didn’t think her parents would let her go on a date with him but they allowed her to double date and here they are, 72 years later still just as in love as they were the day they married. You can hear it in the way they speak to each other. Mildred’s eyesight has been affected by Macular Degeneration and so Coyl said he reads to her each day. They study their Sunday School lessons together. When I asked Coyl about PTSD, he wasn’t sure what that was, but when I explained it, he shook his head and Mildred

did too. “I called it taking fits,” he said. “I wake up scared and sometimes I remember being so far from home and it’s not easy. There were a lot of guys in the Army we’d have to hold down till they got over it.” My final question to Coyl was “How did your time in the military affect the man you are today?” He told me, “The Army helped make me a man. When I left here, I didn’t know much about the world. I finished my education in the military earning a high school diploma. I seen a lot of places I’d have never seen and learned a lot.” I asked him if he was a Christian when he was in the Army and he said, “If I was I didn’t know it. My parents raised me to be a Christian, teaching me to do the right thing and treat people right.” Today the Justices attend Betty’s Creek Baptist Church where Coyl is a deacon. I knew when I left their home that I had surely met some of the finest people around. Mr. Justice is a soft spoken, kind gentleman and Mildred is very sweet. Their home is one filled with children’s art, photos and paintings of family and a lifetime of memories. I am so thankful for men like Coyl Justice.

Fred Gipson – A Family of Veterans

Lernie and Lola Gipson made their home in Lakemont, Georgia, up on a mountain adjacent to the Lake Rabun dam. They had five sons and five daughters. Time and again I’ve written about the economic conditions in the mountains during the depression and after. I would wager there were many families who saw no difference. Trying to scratch out enough to buy food and get the things they had to have, rarely was there extra for anything else. All of the Gipson boys registered with Selective Service when their time came. First to go was Jack in September 1943, serving in the US Navy in World War II, sadly the ship that Jack was aboard was blown up by the enemy and he did not return home. He was killed in action. A letter was sent to notify his parents and a pension was promised. His parents would receive a check for $25 monthly. My thoughts are that Lola cried every time she opened the mailbox and saw the envelope. The next to go off to war was Guy, their second born. His time at war was very hard, Guy surely thought of Jack every day as he fought to defend his country and stay alive. Lola Gipson signed her name to every one of her son’s registration cards. Where it asked the question who will always know where you are living, they each answered with her name. So when she wrote a letter to check on her second son’s condition her request was met with, “His physical health is fine, he is eating and drinking, but he is struggling in his mind.” No doubt from the ravages of war. He returned home a different man than when he went.

I think of Lola. Being a mother myself I know the love a woman has for her children. When her youngest son Fred was called up to go, fear must have gripped her heart. Fred was barely 18 years old, he was nicknamed “Runt” by his sister and it stuck. He is a small man in stature but not in courage. While the war was near it’s end when he was called up and his time reduced due to the family’s loss of Jack, his service was not easy. He was sworn in and went through Basic Training with a local man named Tommy Coleman. He trained with Company H, 351st Infantry of the 88th Division as a Heavy Machine Gunner. He trained at Fort McPherson in Altanta, Georgia and then was sent to Camp Lee, Virginia for 6 weeks before heading to Camp Belvoir in Fairfax. Riding the Troop Train, literally, Fred and a couple others hung on the back because the train was full. He road all night standing on the back of the train holding on. Finally his training wrapped up at Camp Shanks, in Orangeburg, New York. This military facility was the largest point of embarkation for soldiers headed for the front lines in North Africa and Europe during World War II, including the landing forces for the D-Day invasion. This was where Fred Gipson boarded the Liberty Boat with 1400 other men headed for Italy. Climbing mountains was not new to Fred; he had climbed the mountains in Lakemont for nearly two decades. He was agile, willing and light on his feet; he could move quickly. Men who are born and raised in Rabun County were raised hard, taught to work and do as they were told. Fred Gipson was that kind of man, a good soldier. So he and his fellow soldiers settled in the mountains of Italy. “I liked the mountains and I liked Italy. I even learned to speak the language a little. I would have stayed longer but because of my brothers I didn’t have to stay as long as the others. I was a guard but was trained as a Heavy Machine Gunner. The war was about over by the time we arrived. I listened and done what they told me.” Fred stated, “Then I came home and done as I pleased.” After his time in service, the government sent a check for him and he purchased a 1949 Ford Tractor, that sits under the shed today.

Keepsakes found of Fred’s experience during World War II include pictures of his young self and the group of men with which he served, his draft card and that of his older brother, who died during the war, and a copy of a letter he wrote to his sister in 1945.

Fred came home and took a job at a sawmill and earned a mere ten cents an hour. A gentleman named Cliff McManus came to Fred and asked him to help him build his house on the other side of the lake. Offering to pay the same pay, Fred accepted. That’s pretty meager wages even for that time period. He did all he could to make a living. Jobs were scarce and like most mountain men Fred made a little liquor… for sixteen years. When he was caught, it cost him $500. The price was high money and hard to come by, so he may have made a little more. He married a lovely woman, Lotha Marcus. The couple were married for sixty-six years and this past spring Lotha passed away. She was a great artist and good wife and Fred misses her every day. “Marrying her was the best thing I ever done,” he told me. This story would not be complete without a mention about Pup. Four or five years ago, Lotha heard something scratching at the door and she went to the backdoor and told Fred, “There’s a white dog out here that looks hungry. What should I do?” she asked him. “Let it in,” Fred said and Pup has been by his side since that night. I tried to talk him

out of the dog because it is a fine one for sure, but he said “No, I believe I’ll keep him here.” Truth is I don’t think Pup would have left his side.

I feel such a debt of gratitude to men like Coyl Justice and Fred Gipson and his brothers. They are the reason I can do as I please, like Fred said.

Happy Thanksgiving!