A Civilian Once Again

The last of a three-part series of my 80-year-old father recounting his experiences in World War II.

The trip to Galesburg was uneventful. I immediately was figuring out the best way to get to Tonica. Galesburg being a railroad town had the Sanra Fe which also went through Streator,Illinois. Streator was about 25 miles from Tonica. This was another plus.

Two days at the hospital and I had a big surprise. Visitors from Tonica. My folks, brother Dan, and Irene came to see me. Dan was in his Naval uniform which impressed Mom more than anyone else. The visit was short but enjoyable. On one of my weekend trips home I fell asleep returning to Galesburg and a gentleman with whom I had been visiiting with woke me up to tell me the train was now in Galesburg. We had a couple of USO shows but the most important item was the high school basketball tourney. Galesburg was playing Decatur for the State Chamnpionship. It was a close game with Decatur winning 75 to 73 or something close to that. The local radio station announced that while losing, Galesburg was the better team. This was March, 1945 and again I was leaving this hospital.

My new home was Percy Jones Convelesant Center in Battle Creek, Michigan. Easter was approaching and the officer in charge announced that no three day passes would be given over the holiday. I wanted to go home and asked for a two day pass mentioning that my folks had four sons in the Service and that if I got home my folks would have three sons at home. The officer asked me where I lived and proceeded to tell me I would have to take the New York Central to Chicago, transfer from the Illinois Central station to the LaSalle Street station to catch to RockIsland to LasSalle, Illinois. He then stated, "You are going to need a three day pass" and gave me one. I might mention that the officer was from Peoria, Illinois. My train travel, while cheaper for service personnel, kept me broke most of the time. One blessing was that no postage was needed on serviceman's mail. All we had to do was write "free" where the stamp would be, but we had to have the return address on the envelope. At Percy Jones I helped with typing at the payroll section. They had civilians as well as service people working. One day one of the clerks came to me all excited that I was to go to some office to get orders to go to Fort Sheridan, Illinois for a discharge. Being all excited also, I did as instructed and ended up in Fort Sheridan. I received my discharge papers and as I was leaving I noticed a table with a sign that it was a place to request disability. I thought this was automatic and was told otherwise. I received disability and still do at the time of this writing.

My discharge was May 25, 1945. My summer was spent getting ready for college. I was eligible for Public Law 16 which was for service people with a disability. With all these things to do I needed gas stamps for Dad's car and asked Irene's father who was a farmer if he had any extra stamps. He gave me a T stamp which was good for 100 gallons of gas. The stamp gave you permission to buy the gas. I was in seventh heaven. The only problem was that I never got to use the stamp as gas rationing ended a couple of days later.

I enrolled at the University of Illinois and around Christmastime, George was discharged. Soon all of the McMahon sons would be out of the service. My mother passed away not too long afterwards and we all wondered if the war hastened her death.

I was personally thankful things turned out as well as it did for me. It is with admitted pride that I am a member of The Greatest Generation.

Comments

[Wendy]

Thanks so much for sharing your story, Mr. McMahon!

[Maven]

Really enjoyed the postings. Tell your dad "thanks" from my family :)

[Clint]

Thanks for posting your dad's story.

I understand that for many WWII veterans it is very difficult to re-live that part of their lives. My grandfather, who served in N. Africa, will still not talk about it to this day.

There are so many heroic stories from that generation that could be told. I think that that is one of the things that make the WWII generation so special. They were not fighting WWII to be heroes and tell their stories. They were doing it because it needed to be done.

Again thank you. It was an honor to read your father's story.