Sample Passage

Bill and Mable's cross country journey.

But the trip did have a purpose and a practical destination, and the two finally arrived at Fort Ord on September 9th, where Bill reported for duty at the AGF 2nd “Repo Depo” (replacement depot). Upon reporting in, he found that it was business as usual, army-wise, i.e. more “hurry up and wait.” He and Mable had nearly two more weeks of “casual” time to kill before he would head further north to Oakland, where he would report in to begin his actual “escort duty.” There were undoubtedly more reams of paperwork for Bill to complete as he hung about the post for at least part of each day, but he and Mable were also able to get away much of the time for more sightseeing too. So on some days they visited the shops in Monterey and lunched in its small cafes near Fisherman’s Wharf. other days they drove to Carmel and walked the shimmering white sandy beach, or into the salinas Valley to view the vineyards and orchards and sample their delectable riches. it was a near idyllic time for the country boy from Leroy and the farm girl from Webberville, and being able to see and sample all these new things together made it all that much more special and memorable. Young love has a way of making every experience more pleasurable and delicious, and Bill and Mable made the most of what they figured could be their last days together for a long time.

They managed to rent a room in a private home in salinas shortly after their arrival at Fort ord. this would be Mable’s home while Bill was away at sea. Housing was still at a premium near military bases in these early post-war days, so they felt lucky to find any place at all.

The last couple days before Bill departed were filled with last minute paperwork and a full regimen of numerous immunizations and inoculations for him. They also squeezed in one more “tourist” trip to the redwoods national Park. Because of all these activities and the shots too, Bill was not too surprised that he felt exhausted, sore and achy the night of his departure from Fort ord. in point of fact, he had been feeling sick most of the day, and it was all he could do to get himself dressed and onto the train that was to take him to Camp Stoneman, some forty miles north of San Francisco.

In describing it today, Bill remembers a “splitting headache, the worst headache I’d ever had,” along with a stiff neck and another very peculiar symptom. It seemed as if the soles of both his feet had suddenly become extremely sensitive, and every time he put a foot down to take a step, it was as if he could feel it jolting all the way up his spine and into his brain. It was a very unsettling and disturbing sensation, not to mention painful.

But he had his orders in hand and it was time to go. So, with Mable’s solicitous and worried assistance, he got his gear together and boarded the train. It would have been difficult enough for the two young people to say good-bye, not knowing for sure when they would next see each other, but now they were pre-occupied by this unexpected turn of events. Both of them figured, however, and quite reasonably, that Bill was probably just experiencing an adverse reaction to all the shots he had received in the past forty-eight hours, and that the unpleasant symptoms would soon pass. So, with large lumps of emotion lodged in their throats, they embraced, kissed, and made their good-byes.

A few painful hours later, Bill arrived at Camp Stoneman and, after checking in at post headquarters, he was directed to a transient officers barracks where he could spend the night. By this time, he remembers, he was in “just excruciating pain” in his head, neck and shoulders, and it still hurt to walk. But he was determined to gut it out, figuring that this awful feeling couldn’t possibly last much longer, and besides, his own personal “excellent adventure” was about to begin. He rationalized to himself that if he could just get some rest he would start feeling better. He got himself undressed, then, and went to bed. And lay there, hurting horribly, and praying that it would soon stop. It didn’t. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse, as the near debilitating pain radiated throughout his body. So finally, after a few sleepless hours of silent suffering, he got himself up again and – very painfully – got dressed and made his way slowly to the post clinic, which he had noted nearby on his way in to the barracks.

An army medic, an enlisted man, was on night duty at the small clinic when Bill reported in and haltingly explained his problem and described his symptoms. The man listened sympathetically and then showed Bill to a chair and sat down with him to take down his name, rank, serial number and other information. Then he also wrote down the symptoms and the approximate time of their onset on his clipboard. Taking Bill’s temperature, the man looked at the thermometer’s elevated reading, and decided Bill had better spend the night in the clinic and see a doctor first thing in the morning. Gathering up the paperwork and rising to his feet, the medic told Bill to follow him and he would find him a bed and get him settled in.

It was a moment Bill Porteous will never forget.

“I couldn’t get out of the chair,” he tells me. “It was the oddest thing. I couldn’t move at all.”

It was September 26, 1945. The private war of Young Bill Porteous had begun.

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