Rescue on the surly river: A 100 percent true story by Uncle Joe

By ELMER SPRICK

LAKE CITY, MINN. -- His name was Terry Quast, and he came from Mount Pleasant, Mich. I never saw him before, and chances are I will never see him again. He made a lasting impression, however, because we seemed to have much in common. He was a lover of the silent sport of canoeing, which he calls "motorless motion."

Terry operates a bike shop in Mount Pleasant that keeps him close to home in the summer months. This fall, he decided to canoe the Mississippi River from top to bottom, the bottom being the Gulf of Mexico.

Early October 2007 produced some unprecedented warm weather in Minnesota. A strong south wind pumped tropical heat into the state. Terry was bucking a headwind in his canoe until the front abruptly moved, bringing snow to northern Minnesota. What it brought to Lake Pepin was a strong north wind, whitecaps and morning temperatures in the 30s.

I met Terry one recent windy morning in Lake City. In the relatively sheltered boat harbor, I had managed to catch a meal of panfish. I was filleting them in the boat landing's fish-cleaning station when Terry appeared at the door and ask what I had caught. That didn't seem unusual; fishermen coming and going often ask that question. But it did seem odd to me that no vehicles were in the parking lot, and Terry didn't look like he'd come off the adjacent river walk. He was wearing a week's growth of whiskers and his clothes looked like he had been sleeping in them. No doubt he had.

A few minutes later, he came back to the fish-cleaning station and asked me if I knew of a motel in the neighborhood. A glance at the launching ramp gave me the picture; there was a canoe pulled up on the ramp with a huge backpack.

I advised Terry that the motels were on the opposite end of town about a mile away and said I'd be happy to give him a ride and to shelter his canoe and gear in my garage overnight. I also told him that there was little chance that the winds would diminish overnight and that the forecast for the next day was much the same.

He carried his gear and 75-pound canoe the long block to my house. While storing the canoe, I asked him if he wanted to consider skipping the lower half of Lake Pepin. If so, I said, I would give him a ride to Wabasha. He was very receptive, having seen enough of the lake's angry mood. We loaded his gear in my truck and headed for Wabasha.

On the ride, I should have listened more and talked less. I did learn, however, that Terry is an adventurous sort, having spent winters in the Everglades, canoeing among the alligators. He had business cards in his backpack, and I got his name and e-mail address. Around Thanksgiving, I plan to e-mail him and find out how if he survived the rest of the trip and how many paddle strokes it took him to get to the Gulf of Mexico.

The last I saw of him, he was making good time exiting of the Wabasha boat harbor, past Slippery's, of "Grumpy Old Men" fame. Just beyond that, he passed the newly dedicated National Eagle Center. But Terry had no time for tourist stops -- he had miles to go and a schedule to keep, and a good tail wind from the north!

Terry is one of many who has canoed the Mississippi. If he writes a book about it, I wouldn't blame him if he left Lake Pepin out.
_________________________________________________________________
Postscript: Terry Quast recently e-mailed this to Joe:

I made it back safely and it was a wonderful trip. People like you, willing to help, were found along the length of the river. Further down the river, access is limited because of the big fluctuations in the water level. Access to the river is at town parks only, and people who live along the river drive into the public access areas to get a glimpse of the river since the levees are 40 feet high and nobody can see the river from their homes. But without exception, the people visiting these parks were willing to drive me to grocery stores, or restaurants, or even rides to state parks. That was the nicest part of the trip; people looking out for strangers.

The northern half is much nicer than the lower half of the Mississippi. You live in a nice area on Lake Pepin.

Thanks again for your help. If I get a chance to post it on the internet, I'll send you a link. Not many pictures, but a nice adventure.
--Terry Quast, Mount Pleasant, Mich.

A gallery of slides from Vietnam, 1968-69, Part III

More photos Dad took during U.S. Army service in Vietnam, 1968-69:

A gallery of slides from Vietnam, 1968-69, Part II

More slides from Dad's 1968-69 U.S. Army service in Vietnam:

A gallery of slides from Vietnam, 1968-69

Dad/Uncle Bill took these photos in Vietnam in 1968-69. We'll put more history and information on this file over time.

The crucible of war

Still inspired by Ken Burns' "The War," we've done more sleuthing about Uncle Ed's World War II experiences. It's become clear that he was there for almost every major operation in Europe, the likes of which we middle-aged cousins have, thankfully, never seen. The old book pictured above is a rough soldiers' account of the history of Ed's 329th Infantry Regiment. The photo glued to the front of it was taken after the war; the photo posted below before the war. In the book we found tucked this letter written by Ed's old fishing buddy Don Mueller of Dressen, Wis. It read:

March 30, 2002

Dear friends and family of Ed Sprick,

As we all know, Ed never said much about his experiences during World War II. The only two comments I can remember were, "I got to see Paris from the back of an ambulance" and some talk about walking across Europe.

One time we were deer hunting south of Lake City and several of us met up in the woods. Ed had a habit of placing his shotgun butt on the ground and putting his hand over the muzzle while he stood and talked. A stranger came up and commented about this unsafe act. Ed's comment about carrying his rifle across Europe ended that debate.

When questioned about the war, Ed would tell his family that it was "in the book." Finally, after all these years, I borrowed the book from Elmer. I would like to make some comments in it.

Ed was an Army staff sergeant in World War II. I was an Army staff sergeant in Vietnam. The 12th Infantry of the Fourth Division relieved Ed's unit a couple of times in Europe. I was assigned to the 12th Infantry in Vietnam. How I wish Ed and I had known that when he was alive.

In Ed's photo album there is a small photo [above, on the book cover] of Ed in a plain uniform, wearing no stripes or ribbons except for a long rectangular rifle with a blue background. That is the Army Combat Infantryman's Badge (CIB).

For those who have been in combat, that picture is worth a thousand words. The CIB is awarded to soldiers who have been infantrymen in a combat zone for at least six months. Truck drivers, cooks, clerks, etc. cannot receive the CIB. In Vietnam, I was assigned to an artillery unit of the 12th Infantry. No artilleryman could receive the CIB. We tried hard to find a way to earn it. Our jobs might have been dangerous, but they were not infantry.

Several years ago, I wrote to the then-chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and asked him how he could wear the CIB. He was an Army general who had always been in the artillery. He wrote back and said Congress had passed a special bill authorizing advisers in Vietnam to receive the CIB. Yeah -- right. But that four-star general knew the real significance of the CIB.

Many times I have seen civilians in church or at events where a suit and tie were worn. On their lapel would be a miniature CIB. Nothing else had to be said.

On the back of the photo, Ed had written: "July 28, 1945, Swezel, Germany. To Elmer from the Sarge." Ed knew the significance of the Combat Infantryman's Badge, and it shows in that picture.

Don Mueller

We think we see a subtle difference between Ed's expression on the photo of him with the Combat Infantryman's Badge on the book, taken after he was fought across Europe and was wounded (click on it to make it bigger), and the one below it, taken on Sept. 8, 1942, before he shipped out. The war surely was the defining experience of his life. (And we thought it was his taking us all fishing!)

Uncle Joe thinks that Ed would have enjoyed the scrapblog history entries, but liked the fishing photos even more. In honor of his wonderful postwar self, we're posting again one of our fav Ed photos, Ed in a tree, below.

"The War" and our very own Ed

The scrapblog editor and her senior executive associate research director, Uncle Elmer Sprick, watched all seven episodes of Ken Burns' "The War" on PBS, and pronounced it darn good. The scrapblog editor kept thinking she saw her dad and the uncles in various grainy segments. In the harrowing Hurtgen Forest episode (those are American GIs in a snowy foxhole in the Hurtgen, above), there was one blurry guy we are SURE was Ed. That led us to dig up Joe's ode to Ed in the family history book "An Even Dozen." Here it is:

By ELMER (JOE) SPRICK

What was history's greatest military operation? It was the Allied forces' landing on the coast of France on June 6, 1944, marking the beginning of the end of the Nazi war machine that had enslaved much of Europe. Books have been written and movies made about it, graphically documenting the horrors of war. Brother Ed was a part of the invasion force as an infantry sergeant in the U.S. Army.

There is a small book that one might read every Veterans Day. It is not available in the local library, as it was published in Wolfenbuttel, Germany, in July 1945, shortly after the end of World War II. The book, a history of the U.S. Army's 329th Infantry Regiment, was called "Buckshot." Page 147 is one of many pages listing the names of men killed or wounded in action at Normandy between June 6 and July 23, 1944. The name of Staff Sgt. Edward Sprick appears on that page. [Note from scrapblog editor: This book is probably "329 Buckshot Infantry Regiment," a history of the regiment edited by Daniel P. O'Connor and published in 1945 in Germany.]

That June, I had just completed my junior year of high school in Lake City, Minn. Two classmates and I were on our way from Lake City to the St. Joe National Forest in the panhandle of northern Idaho to work in remote 50-man forestry camps. Most older able-bodied men were in military service, so fighting forest fires and forest diseases had to be done by those under draft age, prisoners of war and Mexican nationals.

There was only one radio in our camp and no newspapers, so we knew very little about what was going on in the rest of the world. It was August before a letter came from my sister Anna telling me that Ed had been wounded in action in France and was hospitalized in England. By the time his V-mail letter arrived in Minnesota from England, he was back in action, fighting his way across Europe, enduring among other things the bitter cold and bloodstained snows of the Hurtgen Forest.

Ed never talked much about his war experiences. When asked, he would say, "It's all in the book." The book he was referring to was "Buckshot," which traced the history of his 329th Infantry [part of the 83rd Division? we're researching that] from the beaches of Normandy to the outskirts of Berlin. The 329th fought across France, Luxembourg, Belgium and Germany. Along the way, they faced bombs, tanks, mortars, rifle fire, minefields, booby-trapped pine trees, mud, hunger and deathly cold, sleepless nights. They also faced the sight and smell of corpses.

The 329th Infantry took every fortified objective in its path, often using "breast fire" formation, and always at great cost of human life. Those who survived each battle were reminded by their commanding officer that they were indebted to those who had died. "It is a debt we can never repay," he told them.

Ed was a survivor.

Years later, he spent many enjoyable days during his retirement from the Swift meatpacking plant in South St. Paul fishing Lake Pepin and the Zumbro River. When I retired in 1983, Ed's health was failing. Rheumatoid arthritis caused him a lot of pain. He survived several difficult surgeries, but in the end, lung cancer killed him.

"Any day you can fish is a good day," he used to say. It was my pleasure to take him fishing often during his last two years of sunrises. His former fishing partners were some of the best, frequently visiting with him on the days he was not able to fish. Also, little kids in the neighborhood came to visit him almost daily. They knew Ed was a soft touch with a kind heart, and he would give them gum and candy, or ice cream on a hot summer's day.

Ed died at his home on a cold Sunday morning, Jan. 20, 1985. He was 74. As we were preparing for his funeral, a 6-year-old neighbor girl came to me and asked, "Will you take me to Ed's funeral?" She sat next to Mavis and me in a packed church, paying her final tearful tribute and sharing our sense of great loss.

Several years after Ed's death, a Memorial Day story appeared in the local newspaper. The last paragraph read: "A visitor at Ed Sprick's final resting place paid eloquent respects by placing a beautiful fishing jig on his modest headstone. An old friend and fishing partner remember that 'we have a debt we can never repay.'"

Here is Ed's service record, as recorded in his own hand in his World War II scrapbook:

1942
April 10: Drafted, Fort Snelling, Minnesota. Medics, Camp Robinson, Arkansas.
July: Station hospital, Camp Campbell, Kentucky.
October: Transferred to Co. K., 329th Infantry, 3rd Battalion, 83rd Division. Camp Atterbury, Ind.

1943
July-August: Maneuvers in Tennessee.
September: Camp Breckinridge, Kentucky.

1944
March: Camp Shanks, New York.
April 6: Sailed from New York on Samaria for England.
April 19: Landed at Liverpool, England. stationed at Wrexham, Wales.
June 18: Plymouth, England.
June 19: Sailed for Omaha Beach, France.
July 4: Went into action in France.
July 6: Wounded.
July 12: Flown to England in a C 47. Hospitalized in 186th General Hospital until Sept. 5.
October: Landed at Omaha Beach en route to old outfit.
Oct. 17: Wounded at Birgel, Germany.
1945
About Jan. 14: Got trench foot. One week in a Paris hospital. Back to England by boat. At 67th General Hospital.
March: Discharged from hospital. [Illegible] near Birmingham, England. One week's leave there.
April 25: Went from Southhampton, England, to Le Havre, France.
May: Got back to old outfit at Braunschweig, Germany.
June: Frauenau, Germany.
August: Maneuvers (Jap tactics) at [illegible; Graf--- something]. Back to Frauenau.
Sept. 10: Transferred to 8th Armoured Division. Went to Pilsen, Czechoslovakia.
Sept. 17: Camp Oklahoma, France. Five weeks later at Le Havre. One week at Camp Philip Morris.
Nov. 4: Left for the States.
Nov. 12: Landed at Boston, Mass., at Camp Miles Standish.
Nov. 15: Left for Camp McCoy, Wisconsin.
Nov. 18: Discharged honorably from U.S. Army at Camp McCoy. Arrived at 201 N. Washington St., Lake City, Minn., a tired but happy civilian. Amen.

ADDENDUM

The web is a wonderful thing if you love history. The scrapblog editor just found this information about Ed's 329th Infantry and where it went and what it did. Sounds like the worst, and we mean the WORST EVER, summer and Christmas spent in Europe:

THE 329th INFANTRY IN ACTION

NORMANDY, June 23-Aug. 2, 1944

The 329th Infantry landed in France on D + 17 (June 23, 1944) and moved to an assembly area northwest of Bricqueville. On June 28, the 83rd Division relieved the 101st Airborne Division south of Carentan, and for a week the regiment was in division reserve with the 1st Bn protecting the city of Carentan. On July 4, the big attack jumped off. The 2nd Bn (the only element of the regiment in the initial attack) tried to cross the swamp southwest of Carentan, but met heavy resistance from German paratroops and was unable to gain a foothold on the opposite bank. On the following day, the 3rd Bn, followed by the 1st, drove 2,500 meters through hedgerow defenses to Culot, and although heavily counterattacked by SS troops, held their positions. From then until the great breakthrough of July 25, the fiercest fighting of the war took place, consisting of numerous assaults on fortified hedgerow positions. The Nazis' 17th SS Division opposing them was decimated. On July 26-27, following the withdrawing enemy, the regiment crossed the Taute River and reached Fougeres. where it went into an assembly area.

Towns captured: Culot and approximately 1000 hedgerows. Prisoners of war captured: 106.

ST. MALO, Aug. 3-18, 1944

On Aug. 3, the 329th moved by motor to Pontorson and on the 4th began the drive north to capture the fortress of St. Malo. After a hard fight by the 2nd Bn at Chateauneuf, the town was taken and the regiment drove on to engage the fortified belt around the city of St. Malo. Thence followed an attack on the fortified positions that resulted in the entry into St. Servan, a suburb of St. Malo, on Aug. 9. The 2nd Bn was detached from the regiment at this time, and in a brilliantly executed attack seized the heavily fortified Pte. de la Varde, east of St. Malo, and captured 197 prisoners of war. They then proceeded to capture the fort of Grand Bey. In the meantime, the city of St. Servan having fallen, the regiment laid siege to the Citadel, which after several assaults and heavy bombardment capitulated on Aug. 17, when Col. Von Aulock and a garrison of 596 surrendered.

Towns captured: Dolet, Chateauneuf, Chateau Malo, St. Jouan, St. Suliac, St. Pere, St. Anne, La Beurelais, La Balue, La Motte, St. Servan, Citadel of St. Servan, Fort de la Varde, Grand Bey. Prisoners of war captured: 3,203.

LOIRE, Aug. 19-Sept. 23, 1944

On Aug. 19, the 329th moved to the city of Angers, charged with the defense of the city and the north bank of the Loire. By Aug. 27, the sector of defense for the regiment had stretched to 130 miles from a point west of Angers to Orleans. The main activity during the period was patrol incursions from south of the river. On Aug. 30, the enemy forces south of the Loire began a general withdrawal to the east. On Sept. 8, the I&R Platoon received information that a column of 20,000 Germans wished to surrender to American troops. Negotiations followed, and on Sept 16-17, Gen. Elster and 19,854 German troops laid down their arms on the south bank of the Loire at Beaugency and became prisoners of war.

Town captured: Pont Dece. Towns entered by patrols: Tours, Nevers, Romcrantin, Chateauroux, Chatellerault, Bourges and many smaller towns south of Loire. Prisoners of war captured: 20,058.

LUXEMBOURG, Sept. 24-Dec. 9, 1944

Sept. 23 saw the 329th en route to the Siegfried Line northeast of Luxembourg. In the weeks that followed, the attacks on Grevenmacher (Oct. 1-5), and Echternach (Oct. 1-8) took place. German patrol activity was continuous, but no serious threats developed while the regiment held its sector of almost 25 miles of the west bank of the Moselle.

Towns captured: Oberdonven, Niederdonven, Grevenmacher, Osweiler, Berdorf, Dickweiler, Echternach. Prisoners of war captured: 211.

DUREN, Dec. 10-25, 1944

On Dec. 10, the 329th crossed the German frontier and relieved the 8th Infantry, 4th Division, in the Hurtgen Forest west of Duren. Two days later, the attack to the Roer River jumped off, and after a day of heavy fighting the enemy line was broken and the edge of the forest reached. Dec. 13-14 saw a series of brilliant attacks against the towns of Gurzenich and Birgel by 2nd and 3rd Bns respectively, and the seizure of those towns by our troops. The German counterattack on Gurzenich in Bn strength supported by six assault guns took place on Dec. 16, the day of the start of the great German counteroffensive in the Ardennes. It was successfully repulsed, and but few of the attacking troops were able to withdraw to Duren. The following day, the 1st Bn took the town of Rolsdorf and on the 18th sent the first patrol across the Roer into Duren. On the 23rd, the 329th was relieved and moved to a reserved position at Eilendorf, Germany, where it spent Christmas Day.

Towns captured: Gurzenich, Birgel, Rolsdorf. Prisoners of war captured: 1,054.

ARDENNES, Dec. 26-Jan. 22, 1944

On Dec. 26, the regiment was rushed to the vicinity of Havelange, Belgium, to assist in the containing the German breakthrough. On Dec. 28, the 329th relieved the armor in the Division sector and launched the attack which carried B Co into Rochefort. The pressure of the attack to relieve B Co, which was surrounded by Germans in the city, forced a premature withdrawal of the enemy panzer forces to the east, leaving the regiment in control of Rochefort.

Relief by British forces, movement to the east, and the drive with the 3rd Armored Division to cut off the German spearhead followed, and on Jan 9, 1945 the regiment attacked again against German tanks and in freezing cold and snow to capture Petite Langlier. A night attack on the 11th saw 2nd Bn in possession of Pont de Langlier, and a bridgehead for the armor. The attack to the east through the Bois de la Ronce resulted in the capture of Honyelez on Jan. 14 and the seizure of the high ground west of Bovigny and Courtil, which towns were occupied on Jan. 20. The Germans began a slow withdrawal to the Siegfried Line, and on Jan. 22 the 329th was relieved and pulled back to prepare for future offensive action.

Towns captured: Rochefort, Pont de Langlier, Honyelez, Bovigny, Courtil, Cierrieux, Rogery. Prisoners of war captured: 615.

Commanding officers of the 329th Infantry
Regimental commander: Col. Edwin B. Crabill
CO, 1st Battalion: Lt. Col. Tim O. Cook
CO, 2nd Battalion: Lt. Col. Granville A. Sharpe
CO, 3rd Battalion: Lt. Col. John C. Speedie

Total number of prisoners of war captured: 25,247

Campaign stars awarded: Normandy, Northern France, Germany

ENDNOTES

This was written by an Army historian before the war ended. Notice that the history is incomplete, since it does not follow the actions of the 329th all the way to the Elbe River in April and May, and the conclusion does not include the campaign stars awarded for the Ardennes and Central Europe.

In World War II, airborne and infantry divisions were made up of squads (usually nine to 12 men), with two squads to a platoon, and three or four platoons to a company. There were usually three or four companies to a battalion, three or four battalions to a regiment, three or four regiments to a division, plus attached engineers, artillery, medical and other support personnel. Allied infantry divisions were from 15,000 to 20,000 strong in the European Theater, while Allied airborne divisions were about one-half that size. Most German divisions were less than 10,000 strong. (See Stephen E. Ambrose, "D-Day, June 6, 1944: The Climactic Battle of World War II" (New York/London: Simon & Schuster, 1994.)

The scrapblog editor notes an important fact missing from this otherwise stellar account: Casualties. She'll try to track down the number of dead and wounded and update this soon.

"My Life as a WAVE" by Aunt Anna

This piece by Aunt Anna Sprick Smith (Oct. 16, 1920-Sept. 16, 2012) appeared in the Memorial Day 2000 issue of Today magazine. An editor's note read: "What a great story Anna wrote. I've heard many good comments, particularly about the role women played in World War II." Anna's WAVE uniform is on display in the military room at the Goodhue County Historical Society Museum in Red Wing, Minn. The military room was established by none other than Uncle Bill Miller and displays his uniform as well. There's some very good information on WAVES at this U.S. Navy history site.

By ANNA SMITH

A young nephew often asks to see my World War II medals. He never asked what I did to receive them. So here's my story.

After the "Day of Infamy" -- the bombing of Pearl Harbor -- war was declared against Japan on Dec. 8. 1941. I heard the news on the radio on Sunday afternoon after returning to my boarding home in Bremen, Minn., where I had my first teaching assignment.

War-related events during two years of teaching there included teaching children how to knit squares for the Red Cross, conducting programs to raise money for the Red Cross and hopefully, preparing children for a world of peace.

In the spring of 1943, a teacher from Winona State Teachers College viisted my school and asked me to consider teaching and supervising new student teachers in the rural lab department at the college. I was 23 then, trying to envision my future and my country's future. I enlisted in the WAVES.

In March 1942, Congress had created the Women's Auxiliary Army Corps, giving women temporary military status that was to last as long as the war continued. By the end of July 1942, The Navy began accepting women into the WAVES -- that is, Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service. The Coast Guard and Marines soon followed suit, and by June 1943, the Women's Auxiliary Army Corps had become the WACS. In 1948, Congress passed a law marking women a permanent part of the military.

On May 29, 1943, I left for boot camp at the Naval Training Center at Hunter College in New York City. I had never before ridden on a train ahd had only been in one other state, Wisconsin. For four weeks, we endured the heat in the Bronx during Navy classes, drills, discipline and bewilderment. Studying "The Bluejacket's Manual" was a far cry from teaching fourth-grade geography. Marching on the streets of the Bronx was totally different from pitching softballs to my students.

After three weeks of study and drilling in New York, we were given a weekend of liberty. We saw the sights in New York City, including the Empire State Building, Staten Island, the Statue of Liberty, Radio City Music Hall, a Toscanini concert, tea dances at the Biltmore and Roosevelt hotels and dining at Longchamps. And we never got lost!

I was assigned to the Hospital Corps, part of the Navy Medical Department. I endured a five-day train trip to San Diego Naval Hospital, arriving there on June 30, 1943. It was on that trip that I discovered how prone I was to motion sickness.

During the first month of school at the hospital, I had classes in basic anatomy, physiology, nursing, medicine, first aid, minor surgery, hygiene and sanitation. After graduating, I was assigned to the men's orthopedic ward, where wounds were dressed, baths were given, beds were changed and medications administered. I recall "specialing" one patient who had lost a leg. Gangrene had set in, and I was assigned to stay with him after he was prescribed penicillin. Eleanor Roosevelt visiting the patients while I was there.

The hospital had a large Dependent Annex with women, children and babies of servicemen. There I did nursing duties for long hours, often working extra shifts when hospital shipts or trains came in with war casualties.

A bout with scarlet fever left me unable to continue ward duty. So next I worked as a clerical technician in the administration building at the survey and navigation offices, where the typing skills I learned at Lake City High School were put to good use.

Later I was transferred to the neuropsychiatric ward, where I typed medical histories from doctors' notes and patient interviews. Doctors don't always have the best handwriting!

WAVES lived in barracks on the hospital base, ate at the mess hall and worked hard, always ready for an extra shift.

Balboa Park, once a lovely international exposition area with a famous botanical garden, theaters and a zoo, was taken over by the Navy and became Balboa Annex. During the war, it housed doctors' offices, patient quarters and rehabilitation facilities.

Eventually I worked for various psychiatrists in their offices at Balboa Annex. The patients were Marines who were being rehabilitated to return to active duty.

Fifty years later, I returned to San Diego to find Balboa Park restored to its status as a great cultural center. I visited the San Diego Zoo and recalled working just beyond the zoo fence.

On Aug. 5, 1945, we learned that the first atomic bomb had fallen on Hiroshima, and soon after that about the one in Nagasaki.

I was working on a Marine patient ward in Balboa Annex when word came that the war was officially over. What a wonderful feeling!

My world became broader during my 29 months as a WAVE. Guadalcanal, Bougainville, Tarawa, Saipan, Guam, Iwo Jima, New Guinea, Corregidor, Midway and Okinawa became familiar names.

In late November 1945, my brother Edward Sprick, an Army sergeant, received his discharge after several years in the infantry in Germany. He fought on Omaha Beach and in the Battle of the Bulge.

Now a Pharmacist Mate 2/c, I was separated from the Navy on Nov. 20, 1945, in Great Lakes, Ill. I returned to Winona State Teachers College to obtain a four-year degree in elementary education. I also earned a master's degree from the University of Michigan. Both times I was able to take advantage of the GI Bill.

Entertainers, musicians and show people flocked to the hospital to entertain the patients and staff. Bob Hope, Frances Langford, Adolph Menjou, Kay Kyser, Bing Crosby, Eddie Cantor, Eddie Bracken, Rubinoff, the Andrews Sisters, Jose Iturbi, Harpo Marx, Jimmy Durante, Mickey Rooney, Hoagie Carmichael, Xavier Cugat, Joan Blondell, Cary Grant, Danny Kaye and Horace Heidt were among some I saw there.

But when young Frank Sinatra came to entertain the WAVES, I declined because I had heard of all the young girls screaming, fainting and idolizing the skinny kid from New Jersey.

Fifty years later I regretted not going to that show.

I never regretted the decision to join the WAVES.

Great friendships were made during the Navy years. Regardless of background, education, wealth, status, sex or color, we were friends, united in purpose and dedication.

Women's place in society greatly changed during this period in history. Women worked in factories and in the armed forces, doing work that previously had been only in men's domain.

I learned to treasure our freedoms in America. I saw all around me what those freedoms had cost. People united in the common goal of fighting for and working for America can accomplish great things.

The Millers in Monterey: A gallery of snapshots

A gallery of photos of the Millers during their year or so in Monterey, Calif., in the early 1960s. Uncle Bill was stationed at Fort Ord, where he attended Army language school and learned Czech. Whenever possible, the Millers went to the beach, which was windy, cold and gorgeous. We especially like the photo of the Army fort neighborhood birthday party where the boy cutting up is NOT cousin Chris, for once. To make the Miller kids terrifyingly large, click on each photo.