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The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current, October 05, 1944, Image 7

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THURSDAY, OCT. 5, 1944
CHAPTER I: Wilbert Winkle, 44, pro
prietor of the Flxlt repair shop, located
In the alley back of hli home, 1* notified
by hla draft board that he la in 1-A. He
breaka the bad news to hla wife, Amy,
and marcher off to work without kitt
ing her goodby.
CHAPTER n: He opens hla shop the
following morning, his imagination work
ing overtime. A bullet had Just sped
through his body he found himself dy
ing in some strange, foreign land. A
"reportographer" from the Evening
Standard calls to take his picture and
get his story, and the next day his picture
appears on the front page under the
headline, “Winkle Proud to Fight.'*
CHAPTER III: Telephone calls of com
miseration pour in. The Pettigrews drop
in that evening. Mrs. Pettigrew weeps
over her son. Jack, who is being called.
Mr. Westcott, next door neighbor says:
“If you're the kind of a soldier we're
going to have. God help us.” Mr. Winkle
makes out his will and tacks a sign read
ing “CLOSED” over his shop. Amy
packs his bag and includes a pair of
CHAPTER IV: Mrs. Winkle confides
her worries. She fears Wilbert might
get interested in other women. He prom
ises to send her a post card if he does.
Amy and Mr. Winkle drive to the draft
board. A fellow draftee calls him “Pop.”
The draft board members shake hla
hand. Mr. Winkle takes his place at the
head of the draft parade, and marches
off behind the band.
CHAPTER V: Mr. Winkle kisses Amy
goodby at the bus station and is off to
the wars. On arrival at camp, he is
given his army physical and is ashamed
of his skinny physique. He is still count
ing on his dyspepsia to save him. He is
passed along from doctor to doctor while
his spirits sag.
CHAPTER VI: To his utter dismay.
Mr. Winkle is accepted by the army and
takes the oath of enlistment. He gets
his dog tags and so many "shots" he
cannot remember what they all are for.
He is sent to Camp Squibb, a thousand
miles from home, where he meets Mr.
Tinker, a plumber—a man of his own
age. They become very friendly.
CHAPTER VII: Mr. Tinker tells Mr.
Winkle that he wants to get just one Jap,
with his hands, to avenge his kid brother,
killed at Midway. Any more that he
gets will be "gravy.” Mr. Winkle gets
KP and some bayonet practice. He for
gets to take his pills for three days
straight and realizes he has no further
need for them. His first day on the range
comes along, but he only plows up the
Once more Mr. Winkle fired the
machine gun. By moving it about
sufficiently he managed to send sev
eral bullets where they were sup
posed to go. He clung to the trig
ger desperately, hoping to do well,
if only by accident.
The Sergeant had to yell for him
to stop. “Pop,” the Alphabet told
him fondly, “if it was anybody ex
cept you, I’d know he was gold
bricking. In that case I make him
into the best machine-gunner on the
range. But I guess you and any
kind of a gun ain't the kind to make
friends. You got to learn some
more, but you’ll never learn much.
All right, Private Tindall, let’s see
what the master mind can do.”
Freddie sat nonchalantly at the
gun. It was the first time he had
followed an order with any kind of
grace. He looked around. The Lieu
tenant was far down the line.
“You see that target?” Freddie
asked Sergeant Czeideskrowski.
“That’s you.”
“Shoot the gun instead of your
mouth,” Jack advised.
Freddie glared at him.
Freddie took his time at the gun.
Finally he fired. Delicately he han
dled the bouncing death. He sliced
the up and down marks on the tar-
He clung to the trigger desperate
ly, hoping to do well, if only by
get. He sliced those running across.
He cut to ribbons those marked on a
When he was through he asked
triumphantly of the Sergeant, “How
do you like yourself now?”
The Alphabet regarded the target
with regretful admiration. “If there
was somebody else than a rat who
did that,” he observed, “it would be
One-A nice and I would send him a
gold-engraved invitation to join the
machine-gun crew I think the Lieu
tenant’s going to let me make up.”
The first Mr. Winkle knew of it
was the sound of loud voices coming
from the rear of the barracks. Run
ning out with other men, he discov
ered that Jack hadn’t waited to get
Freddie away from camp.
When Mr. Winkle rushed forward
to stop it, he was caught and held
by one.Qf the. huge arms at Mr. Tink-
ftf. WMKLE
The battle was progressing on
pretty much of an even basis by
the time the Alphabet arrived on the
scene. Afterward, Freddie claimed
that he was swinging at Jack when
he hit the Sergeant. Jack recounted
the same tale when one of his blows
caught the Alphabet instead, and
in his case he was sincere but not
appreciated by the higher authori
As they were led off to tfte Lieu
tenant by Sergeant Czeideskrowski,
Jack called to Mr. Winkle, “Please
“I won’t,” promised Mr. Winkle.
He didn’t even write home about
the incident when both the warriors
were given terms in the stockade.
Mr. Winkle was ordered to report
to the orderly room. Wondering
what serious breach of military eti
quette he had committed, he de
parted to the accompaniment of en
couraging remarks from his com
“It was nice knowing you, Pop.”
“When you get to England, drop
us a card.”
Mr. Winkle faced the Lieutenant.
He had never objected to the Lieu
tenant, as others had done in whis
pers, referring to him as a shave
tail and calling his bars diaper pins.
The Lieutenant knew more about
war than he did, and Mr. Winkle
realized how hard he worked at his
job, rising before the men in the
morning to taste their breakfast and
see that it was good, and rarely
getting to bed at night before one
“At ease,” the Lieutenant said.
Mr. Winkle relaxed.
“In fact,” the Lieutenant went on,
“sit down.”
Mr. Winkle thought that this was
handsome of his superior. He took
the chair indicated and sat very
straight in it to show his continued
The Lieutenant leaned back in his
chair behind his desk and regarded
him. “Getting along all right?” he
“Yes, sir—that is, I hope so, sir.”
“We’re satisfied with you in most
respects, if that’s what you mean
Like the Army?”
“I like it, sir.” Mr. Winkle knew
this to be the stock answer to the
The Lieutenant seemed to know
it, too, and to want a little more in
formation, for he rephrased the
question. “Happy in it?”
Mr. Winkle hesitated.
“Answer just the way you feel,”
the Lieutenant instructed.
“Well, I can’t say I’m happy, sir.
I’m not exactly a fighter, that is,
with my fists, so to speak. And be
ing away from my wife and ...”
“Your regular work? You miss
“Yes, sir. But I recognize why
I’m here.”
“You know the new regulation^
that went into effect the other day.
You’re over thirty-eight arid can get
a discharge if you go into a war in
dustry. Why haven’t you applied?”
It was difficult for Mr. Winkle to
give an answer to this. He wasn’t
able to explain to himself just why
he hadn’t taken advantage of the
new rules. It was like going through
the physical examination and at first
not wanting to be accepted and then
yearning to be.
Amy had written that she would
leave it up to him, and that she
would be proud of him no matter
what he decided. As yet he hadn’t
given her a formal answer. Now he
prepared it.
“I’d like to stay in the Army,”
he heard himself telling the Lieuten
ant. “If you want me.”
The Lieutenant glanced at him
once, with approval. “I’m going to
ask you one more question, Winkle.
Think it over before you answer.
Are you afraid?”
Mr. Winkle jumped. He was sure
he looked guilty. He didn’t stop to
think it over before he murmured,
“I suppose you can say I am.”
He waited for the Lieutenant to
look contemptuous.
“Don’t be ashamed of it,” the
Lieutenant advised. He smiled. “If
you’d told me you weren’t afraid,
I would have known you weren’t
speaking the truth. And I don’t
mean you alone, but all the men in
cluding myself. It's a normal thing,
like being nervous before making a
speech. Usually you make a better
speech because you’re nervous. It’s
the same way with fighting. Fear
makes you more aware, keener,
alert—a better fighter. No soldier
has ever gone into battle without
being afraid—if he has, there was
something the matter with him.”
Mr. Winkle’s eyes opened wide.
He realized that the Lieutenant had
observed the thing in him that he
thought he kept hidden. He saw
then that the other men were afraid,
too, but kept it to theniseives better
than he did.
“Don't connect my lecture,” the
Lieutenant went on, “with the fact
that I’m recommending you for the
Motor Mechanics School. I simply
feel that’s w-here you belong, by pre
vious experience, and at your age.
And you may have to fight there, or
be so close to it that it’s virtually
the same thing. That’s all, and
good luck to you.”
It was a moment before Mr. Win
kle could scramble to his feet and
salute. “Good luck to you, sir—
that is, thank you, sir.”
Mr. Winkle felt that the Army had
something of a soul after all. While
he didn’t exactly walk on air, which
was impossible, anyway, being an
Army mechanic was work he would
like better than marching or shoot
ing. At least it found a round hole
for him to fit in more comfortably
than. the. one he now. occupied..
Mr. 1 uuxvi, uu ue vwicr uuna,
when the reclassification notices
were posted on the bulletin board
and his name was listed with that of
Mr. Winkle, was not pleased.
“Me!” he complained. “I ain’t
in the Army to be any nursemaid to
a jeep. It ain’t right! It ain’t right
for a minute!”
“You better write to the Secretary
of War about it,” advised one of his
squad who was remaining an infan
tryman. “You just write to him
and he’ll fix it up for you.”
The Messrs. Winkle and Tinker
moved in new circles.
They changed to barracks at one
of the far ends of Camp Squibb, so
many miles away that it might have
been a different world. Their asso
ciates were all mechanically inclined
individuals. These spoke their lan
guage better than had their previous
companions, and over them all was
a slightly technical aura. Many of
them were more nearly their own
ages, which made social gatherings
Their office during business hours
was a large, hangar-like building.
Two lines of engines, mounted on
high wooden frames, were placed
down its length. On these they
worked, in select groups of four,
with a Technical Corporal over each
quartet, and a supervising Captain
miraculously clad in coveralls like
their own.
Mr. Winkle, who could repair any
thing, here really learned about
Army regulations, which presumed
that he knew nothing about a com
bustion engine. They also held that
there was only one way to do a
specified job, the Army way, and
that anything felse might as well
not exist.
“We will now,” lectured his Cor
poral instructor, “locate the trouble
in this engine, which won’t run.” To
illustrate, he turned on the ignition
and pressed the starter with his
hand. The motor turned over, but
refused to start. The Corporal looked
about at his four men, peering at
their nameplates. “Winkle, you
take it.”
Mr. Winkle, who had been regard
ing the engine idly, had already no
ticed the trouble. “Why,” he said,
“the carburetor’s out of adjust
He swiped briefly but expertly at
the carburetor with his screw driv
er, snapped on the ignition, pressed
the starter, and the motor roared.
The Corporal, looking apoplectic,
gestured wildly for him to shut it
Mr. Winkle obeyed.
Indignantly, the Corporal put the
carburetor out of adjustment again
and then addressed Mr. Winkle se
verely, a good deal put out that this
little ruse had been discovered so
“Look,” he said, “here we work
up to be Thomas A. Edison slow
like. Starting from the ground. I
think you heard the Captain men
tion something about procedure
sheets. You got yours?”
Mr. Winkle held it up.
“What’s it say you do?”
‘First,’ Mr. Winkle read,
‘crank engine by starter if en
gine fires but motor won’t run, pour
gas in the carburetor.’
“Now you got the idea,” the Cor
poral ordered.
Mr. Winkle cranked the engine,
which fired but didn’t run. He took
up a can and poured gasoline in the
carburetor dnd tried again. The en
gine ran for a moment and then
spluttered to a stop.
Mr. Winkle glanced longingly at
the carburetor adjustment and then
consulted his procedure sheet once
He learned he now knew that the
seat of the trouble was the fuel
system. He checked the gas sup
ply, the lines and the connections.
Finally he came, according to pro
cedure, to the carburetor. He swiped
with his screw driver again, and
this time, when he pushed the start
er, Army procedure was triumphant.
When he shut off the engine, he
stood back with a puzzled expression
on his face. “Can I ask a question,
“Something you don’t under
“Well,” proposed Mr. Winkle,
"supposing I’m out in a stalled truck
with the enemy after me. Do I go
through the procedure and get cap
tured, or do I adjust the carburetor
and escape?”
He knew by now it was heresy to
make such inquiries, but the answer
to this one worried him genuinely.
The Corporal regarded him with
eringly. “Maybe your skin will tell
you that if you think it’s worth sav
Mr. Winkle and his friend, Mr.
Tinker, were in town to celebrate
their completing the Motor Mechan
ics course and having received their
certificates of graduation.
They stood outside the bar Mr.
Tinker patronized. Mr. Winkle was
about to be on his way down the
street alone, as usual, leaving Mr.
Tinker to the attractions within. Mr.
Tinker had been wishing that he
along all right?” he
Seen and heard in October cider
making swinging into high gear
and radio programs featuring that
Robin Hood tune “Brown October Ale”
several woodcocks seen along the
creeks stopping here in their south
ward migration and some of the
boys who were banging away in the
woods Monday morning apparently
forgot that squirrel season was over
and football season hitting its
stride—the Pirates hitting hard luck
again last Friday—well cheer up—
look what happened to Michigan
and that flurry of coffee buying last
Saturday to bet rumored rationing
was a false alarm—wonder what that
woman who bought 5 pounds is going
to do with it and speaking of ra
tioning, OPA has released sugar to
those making apple butter for sale—
if you can find the sugar rains the
first of the week improving prospects
for fall wheat seeding and few
Bluffton people—only seven—cashed
their bonds Monday for a total of
$300 and if you're expecting to
take your Sunday dinner at the res
taurant, better get a schedule of which
one is open.
Lee Coon, custodian of Maple Grove
cemetery is using the town’s air ham
mer equipment for digging graves.
The ground, packed to almost flint
hardness by the long summer drought
has made grave digging by the ordi
nary pick and shovel method virtually
What is news—a lot of folks ask us
that question—and about the best an
swer is one we came across the other
day. News is something that makes
a woman say “O, for heavens sake.”
Radio listeners will be interested to
know that Norman Sumney, son of
Mr. and Mrs. Wilbur Sumney is a
member of the naval choir at the
Navy Training Station at Sampson,
N. Y. He also sings in a quartet at
Sunday services there.
There will be a lot early spring fry
ers in the country—at least one of the
largest single consignments of baby
chicks 6,000 went thru the Bluffton
postoffice, Monday night, being trans
ferred here from the A. C. & Y. to the
Cleveland-St. Louis Nickel Plate train.
The chicks were shipped from a Syca
more hatchery to poultry raisers thru
out the Mid-west.
Bluffton’s housing shortage doesn’t
worry Harry Mericle, expert carpen-
would join him this time. “How
about it?” he inquired.
“No,” Mr. Winkle replied judi
ciously, “I don’t think so.”
“I know you're married and all,
but that ain’t any reason you can’t
enjoy yourself.”
Mr. Winkle shook his head.
“I ain’t trying to get you to do
anything you don’t want to do,” ar
gued Mr. Ti.
ood discussing it, with
king most of the com
aw two soldiers com
street. One was Jack,
dn’t believe their eyes
i they recognized the
While they stc
Mr. Tinker
ments, they
ing alon(
but they
seen Jack or Freddie
Incredible rumors,
fused to accept, had
hat Freddie had final
into small pieces and
since the
which the
reached th
ly been bn
was being put together again in an
other form.
Now the soldier on Jack’s arm
stood straight. He was confident,
but not arrogant. And no mustache
blackened his upper lip, which was
shaven clean.
Mr. Tinker was the first to speak,
to Freddie. “That ain't you, Tin
Mr. Winkle stared, perplexed,
from one to the other of the young
men. “It can't be,” he said.
Jack laughed. “Sure it is. He’s
an Army lug now.” He nudged Fred
die. “Go on, yardbird, speak your
Freddie had been standing with
his face slightly flushed, making no
comment. Now he looked sheepish
for an instant before he said “I
guess I owe you an apology, Mr.
ter and all around handy man. The
Mericles are living in their recently
completed garage on South Main
street on a lot purchased from the late
Mrs. Eliza Fett. The interior is will
fitted up for a residence and every
thing cozy and in ship shape for the
winter. Mericle expects to build a
house as soon as present wartime
building restrictions are relaxed.
The current October number of
“Click” Magazine on page 23 has a
picture of Betty Lou Geiger Farrell
testing a meal at the Amy Quarter
master’s corps at Chicago. She is the
daughter of Dr. and Mrs. I. W. Geig
er of Minneapolis, former Bluffton
residents. Her husband, recently
graduated from the Northwestern
University Medical school is an in
tern in a Chicago hospital.
And speaking of the Geigers—you
can imagine I. W.’s surprise when a
youth called at his office the other
day and introduced himself as a native
The demands are
and WOMEN—to
of Bluffton. It was Dale Davidson,
student in the manual training grad
uate school of the University of Min
nesato—and Dr. Geiger is on the uni
versity science faculty. Well, the two
ex-Blufftonites took an hour out of a
busy afternoon to discuss people and
places back in the home town.
And by the way, Dale says that
hunting and fishing in Minnesota is
all that anyone ever claimed for it.
The other week he snagged some two
pound crappies and four bass that
weighed seventeen and three-fourth
pounds. Also he has seen a mink,
numerous muskrat and deer.
It’s an ill wind that blows no good—
and Ernest Hall of near Bluffton says
it was an ill wind that struck his
newly painted barn the other night
when dirt, leaves and dust carried by
a near-gale stuck to the wet paint
and detracted greatly from the ap
pearance of the building.
Bluffton garbage collection system
u-as off schedule last Thursday for the
first time since the town took over the
job since the spring of 1943. The
on garbage collection
to postpone the job.
Raising of peanuts is
more a hobby of Bluffton gardners.
Latest addition to the list is Jacob
Nusbaum east of town, who placed a
stalk on exhibit in the News window.
Esmond Griffith and Sidney Stettler
also have experimented in raising this
Mrs. Ida Boyd spent several
with Mrs. B. F. Hall.
Mrs. Georgia Watt spent the
with Mrs. Nettie Knoble.
Mr. and Mrs. Ira Grant and
Bernice Grant were
guests of Mr. and Mrs
Mrs. Mollie Allerding of Ada was
a week end guest of Mrs. Jennie Ever
sole and Mrs. Carrie Lentz.
The Aloha club met with Mrs. Dor
othy Bierly, Thursday, and members
present were Mrs. Elsie Bierly, Mrs.
Inez May, Mrs. Hilda Badertschcr,
Mrs. Ivy Binkley, Mrs. Raychel Rex,
The Army and Navy are still needing large quantities of
Come in and talk over the matter with Mr. Capell, our
Personnel man. He will tell you about getting a temporary
release from A. A. A. to help in this important work.
All Applicants Must Comply with WMC Stabilization Program
Practise Typing Papei
Standard Size 8 1-2 11 Inches
5CC Sheets
(No Broken Packages)
A Complete Line of
including C. C. C., SMUDGE, and SPRAYZUM
also complete poultry service.
Now in stock at—
Llufftcn News Office
Cherry Street Phone 182-W Bluffton, Ohio
urgent—more help is needed—both MEN
make these very essential war materials.
work is light you may be able to work 8
While your farm
hours—either day shift or night shift—to assist in producing
this war material. Or if you are not now in war work, you
tan help our boys at the front by helping to produce these
important war items.
Paid While You Learn
Steady Work Good Pay
Good Prospects for Regular
Employ inent After the War
Mrs. Irene Stump, Mrs. Illa Long,
Mrs. Gretchen Heiser.
Mr. and Mrs. John Barges of Lima
called on Mr. and Mrs. Oscar May,
Mr. Bruce McGinnis and daughter
were Sunday dinner guests of Mr. and
Mrs. Walter Oberdier.
Use Right Soap
One of the first steps in reducing
soap waste is to use the right soap
and the right amount of soap for
each washing job. For laundry work
where a washing machine is used,
two inches of suds are plenty to do
a good job. And in hand laundering
it urn’t necessary to use a whole bowl
of thick suds to wash a pair of hose,
two or three handkerchiefs or a
sheer blouse.
Every Load Insured
Bluffton, Ohio
Dries in one hour. Just faintest
pine scent remains ... no un
pleasant paint odor. Use paint
ed rooms same day.
Stands repeated washing with
Quart 69c Gallon $2.49
We also handle Kem-Tone
authorizid dialir
Ed Waitermire, Owner
N. Main St. Phone 389-W
Bluffton. Ohio

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