The Early YearsMillworker to CadetOverseasCollege & Alaska Family& Work

THE MILLWORKER - 1942

In a few weeks I was enticed by a wage of 70¢/hour and signed on as a hostler's helper at the Edgar Thomson Works of the Carnegie-Illinois Steel Corporation. Big money. Once in a while a brother and I. with lunch buckets in hand, would end up riding on the street car to work. The "ET" was the largest employer around. Braddock was at that time a regular mill town. The mile stretch of the main street was the home of about 50 bars. There were no parks. White shirt collars stayed white about 3½ hours. The first Carnegie Library was built in this borough. And it was truly an ethnic melting pot if ever there was one. By this time, hired women had 'invaded' the floors of the mill where they soon could outswear the men!

hostler
I worked as a hostler with a crusty older man named "Curly" who was open to sharing his experience. We were charged with maintaining the small 'dinky' engines which moved ladles and ingots through the plant. Our lunch break on the midnight shift took place upstairs near the roundhouse. We usually shared part of our lunches with the 'pet' rats which showed up.

A steel mill in winter is not a warm place except near the blast furnaces and one other place, the blacksmith's forge. When we needed thawed out, we'd stand rotating in front of the smithy's hot coals. If we got caught up with jobs on night shift, we'd climb the railroad tower and gab with the switchman in his cozy cubicle.

Curly gave me one chore to do on a full-sized steam engine. It evidently had developed a case of "mechanical pneumonia" since its boiler was in a reduced state of health. To bring the patient up to snuff, it was necessary to clear its lungs. 'Doc' Curly directed me to crawl into the cold firebox through the steel firedoors. Once inside, he handed me a work light and a high-pressure air hose with with a metal 'nipple' complete with a wide flange behind it. The front wall of the firebox had a honeycomb pattern of maybe forty open exhaust pipes through which the hot air of the coal fire entered the boiler to produce steam. My job was to insert the hose nipple into each pipe with the flange against the wall. A blast of air was then released into the pipe in order to clean the accumulated soot. Most times this forced the gook out the other end, but if a tight soot plug wasn't forced out, a backfire occurred. This event would fill the firebox with a dense dark cloud of sooty ash, enveloping me in a state of near-asphyxiation until the dust settled. Safety gear was limited to a large handkerchief bound over one's nose and mouth bandit-style. Claustrophobia, anyone?

I did have a chance or two to "engineer" this one full-sized steamer, usually moving it slowly along the rails to where we took on water. After riding a rocket on lift-off, I would think the greatest personal feeling of pure 'animal' power is that when pulling on the throttle of a steam locomotive.

Soon after my January birthdate, I enlisted in the Army Air Corps as an Aviation Cadet. Passed my physical in the old courthouse in Pittsburgh and was inducted in Greensburg. My last or near last pay envelope listed me as RA STUMPH from Works No. 22, Employee Number 28273. The pay period ending 3/13/43 showed 96 actual hours worked for a gross pay of $84.24. F.O.A.B was 84¢, group insurance was $1.10 and the victory tax was $3.01. My take-home pay from the Carnegie-Illinois Steel Corporation was $79.29. I continued working until I received orders to report for active duty on April 3, 1943 in Pittsburgh for the train ride to Nashville, TN. The popular song right then was "Don't Get Around Much Anymore".

[*Note: Sometime either before or after I enlisted, I learned of secret(?) rumblings by some members of Dad's congregation. It was thought by them that since my older brothers had not been taken into the service, my Dad had exerted some kind of influence to get them off. I don't know what they figured when I went in. Of course, they never knew that Dad himself had volunteered for chaplain service during WWI but was rejected due to family commitments.]

THE AVIATION CADET - 1943

In the Army Air Corps

Before starting this section on my military service, I would attempt to show the possibly now-outdated practice of personnel selection. Was it naive then? Judge by the three recommendations submitted on my behalf. All were addressed to Commanding General, Third Service Command, Baltimore, Md.

aviationcadetSt. Luke's Evangelical and Reformed Church, 4th. St. and Camp Ave., Braddock, Pa. - March 23, 1943 - "Dear Sir, Mr. Robert Stumpf, candidate for service and training as he has made application, has asked me for a recommendation which I am very happy to give as a neighbor. I have known Robert Stumpf for the last ten years. His moral character is 100%, and he has been a leader of young people in his own church. I have also observed his study habits, and they are also excellent. I have never seen a bad habit in him, or in any conduct but what has been exemplary. - Sincerely yours, (s) John A. Borger"

Braddock Public Schools, W.C. Evans, Superintendent, Braddock, Pa. - "Commanding General, Robert Stumpf attended the Braddock High School from September 6, 1938 to May 28, 1943, when he was graduated in the Scientific Course. - Robert was a very good student, his rank being 18 (in a class of 196 students). I have always found him to be honest, reliable, cooperative, ambitious, and loyal. He is of good moral habits and character. - I am pleased to recommend Robert, as I am certain he will prove successful, and worthy of your consideration. - Very truly yours, (s)Lawrence S. Reardon, Principal."

 Camp Avenue Pharmacy-Prescriptions-Camp Avenue & Fourth St., Braddock, Pa.- "Commanding General:- It is with great pleasure that I am able to recommend Robert A. Stumpf as a candidate for Aviation Cadet Training.- I have known Robert Stumpf for the past six years and have always found him to be a clean, honest young man of good reputation and excellent character. I believe that he will develop into a good member of the Air force. I hope that he can realize his ambition by being accepted.-Yours truly, (s)Louis Giovannitti"

While stationed at the Army Air Center, Thompson Lane, Nashville, I endured a mild basic training of early rising, marching, running, shooting ( I passed as a sharpshooter on the carbine.) and doing KP. My next post was at Santa Ana Army Air Base in California where I was a member of the Eager Beaver Squadron in pre-flight training. Some of this effort was expended in more marching accompanied by lustily singing such songs as:
The Airman's Song

I've got sixpence, jolly. jolly sixpence,
I've got sixpence to last me all my life.
I've got two pence to spend
And two pence to lend
And two pence to send home to my wife, poor wife.

Chorus
No cares have I to grieve me,
No pretty little girls to deceive me,
I'm happy as a lark, believe me,
As we go rolling home.

Rolling home, (dead drunk),
Rolling home, (dead drunk),
By the light of the silvery moon.
Happy is the day when the airman gets his pay
As we go rolling home.
II
I've got four pence, jolly, jolly four pence,
I've got four pence to last me all my life.
I've got two pence to spend
And two pence to lend
And no pence to send home to my wife, poor wife.

III
I've got two pence, jolly, jolly two pence,
I've got two pence to last me all my life.
I've got two pence to spend
And no pence to lend
And no pence to send home to my wife, poor wife.

IV
I've got no pence, jolly, jolly no pence,
I've got no pence to last me all my life.
I've got no pence to spend
And no pence to lend
And no pence to send home to my wife, poor wife.
In a few weeks I moved to nearby Cal-Aero Flight Academy at Ontario where I was taught discipline in a process to make me "an officer and a gentleman'. Certain behavior was demanded, such as eating "square" meals and "clearing" your air space while walking outdoors on campus. The "square" meal involved sitting at the table quite erect and at attention. When a morsel from the plate was on the utensil, it was lifted vertically to your mouth level, brought at a right angle horizontally to be eaten and returned to the plate in reverse fashion. Before changing direction walking the sidewalks, it was required that you stop, scan to the left, right, up and down. If all was "clear", your "wings" (arms) were spread and you "banked" in the proper way to make your turn. All this "chicken----" was to impress upon us cadets the need to pay attention to the smallest details and to develop our self-discipline. Mornings were spent in classroom work and afternoons were spent in the air learning to fly. The plane used was a PT-13 Stearman, an open-air biplane which was stable as Gibraltar.
My instructor was Mr. Ball, a very nice fellow from Ohio, who had been a 'barnstormer'. I surely enjoyed flying. After teaching me to 'check the mags' and fly the patterns, Mr. Ball made sure I was comfortable in the air by putting us into a snap roll. This is a very wild maneuver but it was fun to me.

Eventually I was set to make my first solo flight. I had no trouble on take-off , made two turns and was on the downwind leg when I remembered stories I had heard. The worst one revolved around former soloing cadets who feared to land and flew until their fuel ran out. That thought was fleeting and I was shortly on the approach leg. I lined up OK with the runway and flew on in. As I slammed the stick back, I was feeling so proud of my smooth three-point landing and then the plane came down the other three feet and hit the runway emphatically. Yet it was a good landing as I got out and walked away.
After a few more training flights, Instructor Ball was transferred and for over a week I did not fly. It was then that a check pilot went up with me and reviewed my competency. As it turned out, my original instructor, Mr. Ball, had not finished covering all facets of flying which the check pilot assumed I knew. Consequently, I was "washed out' by the review board on Sept. 6, 1943. After the war, I was advised by Dad that Mr. Ball had learned of my predicament and had called Dad to say that he would go before the board in my defense. Dad replied that he and Mom were just as happy that I didn't complete the training. So I fell through the cracks, but I had flown solo for just over four hours, to my private satisfaction.
I learned later that I was scheduled to go to aerial gunnery school but orders were changed and I headed alone by train to Scott Field, Illinois for radio training. There I learned basic radio theory, soldered together a working transmitter and a receiver, and mastered Morse code. I even went up for a short training hop in a radio-equipped Piper Cub. I remember a gruff, bitter radioman, lately returned from rough duty in the Pacific, relating to us stories of horrendous treatment of American prisoners by the Japanese. If I didn't before, I took my military training quite seriously after hearing his gruesome tales.

Saw the XP-55 fly, like a flying wing. It was called "Goose". Saw what must have been twin-engine night fighter, P-61, "Black Widow". C-47's were flying around in formation. Thought I saw the new B-29.

I did take the bus to St. Louis, MO via Belleville, IL a few times to visit the Lutheran Service Center, to go to USO dances and to dine on the famous big thick steaks at local restaurants.

A letter home:

Pvt. Robert A. Stumpf
33670028
367th. TSS-Brks.166
Scott Field, Ill.
Sat. Nov. 6, 1943

Dear Folks,

We just got done with Sat. morning inspection. I got through it O.K.-- I wrote four letters last night in only two hours. That's pretty good for me.-- It rained pretty hard this morning so we didn't have P.T. {Physical Training] -- I just got your swell letter with the brat's pictures. Boy, is she cute. [My first niece, Edna] I surely enjoyed your letters, Mom. I usually get one of yours when no others come through. -- I'm going to the show tonight to see Charles Laughton in "The Man From Down Under." I like his acting a lot. -- I'm sorry Ken [Ken Crouse, a cousin] can't stand the army. I guess it is harder for a married guy. I don't mind it so much, though. I expected it to be worse than it is. Of course the gad-a-bout fellows don't like it at all. Ha! I'm the homely homey type. -- I'll write again tomorrow if they don't work me too hard on my day off. Ha! -- I hope you opened this letter right. [It being a fold-up envelope-type letter.]

88,
Bob


I was due to go home over Christmas on a 3-day pass when I landed in the post hospital with flu. My disappointment was eased when I was amazed at finding that the army did have a heart of a sort. The squadron commander, accompanied by our HQ staff sergeant, arrived in the ward on Christmas day and gave each of us patients a basket of fruit, writing materials and toiletries.

One other time I was on "sick call" sitting in the dispensary with a bunch of other ailing GI's. After a short time waiting, the doctor entered the room with his captain's bars showing. Some damned fool yelled 'ATTENTION' and we all scrambled to stand up. My next sensation was looking up at everyone from the floor while a couple of medics loosened my collar and belt. I had fainted from a fever brought on by sinusitis. That got me out of KP for once!

† Attended worship service at the 367th. Chapel, William P. Burns, Chaplain, on January 23,1944.

† Our Bethany church at home presented a Service Testament and an Army-Navy Service Book to each member who entered the military service. Soon after being stationed, I found the following entries which my parents had written in them: {In Mom's hand] "To our dear Bob:-Always we will be thinking of you and will trust you keep close to your God and your religion. You remember this was one of the requests I made of you -- so don't fail me. Your loving Mother & Dad - Palm Sun. Apr. 18th.,'43." [And in Dad's hand] "This is God's message to you. Read it. Dad" †

Some soldiers never could learn code. My ears didn't reject listening to the dits and dahs for hours through the earphones. The tape sent groups of five letters or numbers in endless combinations. Upon graduation I was now a radio-operator-mechanic and was transferred again to Nashville to await further orders.

The next assignment was to Reno Army Air Base in Nevada. Getting there was top-notch. A fellow-GI and I shared a passenger compartment on the train. It had fold-up bunks, bath, upholstered seats and a pull-down table. We could sit and play cards or write letters while taking in the varied scenery of America.

THE BUCK-ASS PRIVATE - Oct. 1943

The enlisted man's dress uniform was quite sharp but now I would never wear those snappy officer's "pinks". Why the dress uniforms of stalwart examples of military masculinity were called by the effeminate name of "pinks", I never found out. private
After arrival at Reno, much of the time was spent seeing the American scenery from a different perspective. I practiced flight radio procedures as radioman in crews flying C-46 transport planes. Pilots were being checked out in flying this type of plane at the same time. Most trips were made across the Sierra Nevada mountains to airfields near Long Beach, San Francisco and Sacramento in California. I recall landing at a very, very dry airstrip at Tonopah, NV and circling over the very beautiful blue-green waters of Crater Lake on the way to landing at Medford among the Oregon pine forests.

It was at Reno that I came very close to death. A group of us were herded into a large decompression chamber. After we were seated and fitted with individual oxygen masks, pumps began to thin the air. The instructor informed us of the dangers of anoxia while flying, He then gave me a paper and pencil with a clipboard and told me to write my signature until told to stop. At this time he removed my mask while I continued signing my signatures. I continued logging my name as I became confidently happier. It wasn't long before he brought the oxygen mask to my face again. When I inspected my writing, I found that after a few adequate signatures, the next lines were unintelligible scratching which then tailed off to nothing. This live exhibit showed us how easy it would be to lose our lives unknowingly at high altitude without our oxygen supply.

With buddies, I hitched out to the ghost town of Virginia City where mine machinery rusted on the hillsides; where the Bucket-of-Blood Saloon could be seen; where one could stand on the dance- floor- on- springs at the old opera house; and where the red brick Catholic church with white trim and spire still looked grand. And then or later, the capital of Carson City was visited. The ultimate getaway was of course to Lake Tahoe, that lovely blue gem set among the peaks.


The Biggest Little City in the World. With its flashy neon signs fronting the many gambling clubs, Reno was indeed a drawing card for me and my fellow GI's. On payday, some of the guys would give me some of their money to hold so that they could at least buy cigarettes for the balance of the month if Lady Luck treated them badly at the gaming tables. It was fun to watch people wager. But Reno's "other" half of town was delightful. It had a hospital, churches, the University of Nevada, the Truckee River, and a pleasant park. A buddy and I joined up with a couple of local girls at the skating rink. I still don't know why, as I can't move on wheels. Anyway we had fun and one of the girls won a few dollars as a prize. Rather than keep it, she took us all to a movie.

One day I joined a group that was offered the invigorating effects of riding retired Cavalry horses. I was given one named "Amos" and was warned to keep him at the end of the line. He was known to have a propensity to kick other mounts if he got ahead of them. As the troop moved out into the desert scrub, Amos would not stay back. In consequence, I struggled during the whole trek trying to control the kicker while praying to stay in the saddle. Enough for Army recreation ventures.

Once you're enlisted, you can never predict what you might be called upon to do, except for KP! One evening as we were enjoying a film at the theater, the show was interrupted with a request for volunteer firefighters. It must not have been a top-notch movie because many of us got up and joined up. We were loaded on to army trucks which headed for the hills. After leaving the public roads, we were transported over rough tracks which wound up into high country. Eventually the drivers had to make their own trails in an attempt to find the unseen fire. At last, after grinding uphill in the lowest gear, the vehicle could go no further and we debarked into a dry arroyo. It was in the middle of the starry night as we trudged to a flat area and bivouacked. A campfire was soon blazing to chase away the cold desert air. Still no sign of the brush fire was evident, so we resorted to an ancient army maneuver---we waited. As dawn arrived, so did breakfast in the form of K-rations. Then we were loaded back on trucks and taken back to the air base, never having met the 'enemy'.

Although we drained our bladders before boarding, relief tubes were installed in many planes. These allowed us on longer flights to vent any frustrations by peeing on selected west-coast cities. Our radios had trailing-wire antennas which were reeled out the lower rear of our planes while transmitting.. On their outer extension ends were attached fairly heavy "fish" made of metal. On one July flight, I reeled in the antenna and as it snugged to a stop, the "fish" broke off and fell to earth. I never took credit for this "bombing" of Fresno, California.
After 12 or 15 weeks of polishing our communications talents, I graduated again, this time as an aerial radio operator. I could hardly wait to pin on those silver crewmember wings. The triangular Communication Specialist insignia also looked fine on my uniform.

At birthplace of my dad

northplatte

On one cross-country trip, we stopped in North Platte, NE, where Dad was born in 1888 and lived next door to William F. "Buffalo Bill" Cody.

 

Once again I boarded a train and rode on back to.....Nashville. There I was in a pool of airmen from which crews were selected. It wasn't long before I was on an Eastern Airlines DC-3 with nineteen others on a night flight. We landed in West Palm Beach, FL at dawn. It was soon learned that two brand new C-54 Skymaster transports , each with two 5-man crews, were to be flown to Washington, DC under secret orders.
Memory tells me that we flew to Bolling Field near Washington; stayed overnight, flew on to LaGuardia Airport with a load of brass; ate lunch at La Maison Pere; stayed overnight on Sept. 7, 1944 at the Hotel Lincoln, 44-45 Sts. and 8 Ave., NYC; loaded on a private bus and while waiting to start, saw the Andrews Sisters come by on the sidewalk; they snubbed us, so I never bought their records; went through Port of Embarkation at No.1 Broadway and then flew on via Presque Isle, ME to Gander, Newfoundland, all this still secret.

FIRST TIME OVERSEAS

Enroute to Gander NFLD, Warren G. VanDorn and I shared responsibility of the radio work. Following is a copy of our radio log for the trip from LaGuardia Airport to Presque Isle, Maine. It may give a little insight on what we did while flying.

ENG ON-[2118Z (the "Z" meaning Greenwich Mean Time)
TXI-RNWY 31-12'ELEV.
T/O-CLEAR
AIRBORNE-[2132Z]-OFF COMMAND
ON WATCH 4595KC-[2145Z]
285 V WYWM QAM ZQ 1730E CIG SRKN
7000 LWR SCTRD 3000 VIS UNR-58-50-SW-8-2970
LIAISON ON 4595KC[2200Z]
[0110Z]WYWM V 284 INT QAM BW K(AS)R(QAM BW 1730-CIG THIN HI BRKN-LWR SCTD 5000
VIS UNR-73-51-WSW 11-ALT 2987-K)R AR
OFF WATCH 4595KC-ON WATCH 100,000KC
TIME TICK-WATCH SET
OFF WATCH (s)Robert A Stumpf[2250Z]
ON WATCH (s)Warren G.VanDorn
4595 2310Z
OFF LSN WTCH ON CMD 0003Z
00042 PI/TNR LND INST/RNWY 28
WD-WSW 8/
0015Z LNDED ZQ
0025Z ENG OFF

The night set for our take-off from Gander to Prestwick, Scotland found the two planes lined up for clearance. The first aircraft lifted into the dark night as my pilots ran through check lists. One of our engines "blew a jug" which I believe meant a piston went through a cylinder. A new engine was ordered from the states. By the time it was installed and flight tested, our departure was delayed for a week until midnight September 13th. Buttressed with box lunches stowed on board, we headed into the inky darkness to the east. Thank goodness we couldn't see the cold North Atlantic below us! With the sun finally up, what a beautiful green landfall we saw as Ireland appeared. Then over more water to the big field at Prestwick, Scotland, with flower beds decorating the place, even in wartime.

Upon our arrival we found the other crews waiting for us while local pilots were "checking out" in their plane. The main shock was to learn that we were ordered to return on the next day to Washington.......in the same planes with the same crews. The following day we flew to Meeks Field, Iceland, staying overnight in a Quonset hut. Flying the Great Circle route, we headed over the scary ice mass of Greenland, stopped in to Goose Bay, Labrador at dark for refueling and arrived in Washington late at night. We were given a 6-day delay en route on 16 Sept. home to ... reporting to Nashville 23 Sept.44. I eventually found that we were to report to London. Since these planes had airline seats, it was conjectured that we were to operate a shuttle service for military brass between London and Paris. The final rumor was that this SNAFU was a 'clerical error".
[*Note-A flash ahead 54 years: This, a letter from Timothy A. Chopp, President and Board Chairman of the Berlin Airlift Historical Foundation. He was Chief Pilot of the refurbished C-54, 'Spirit of Freedom' which he flew to the 50th. Anniversary celebrations in Europe.

Quote: "Dear Robert: Now that I have a few minutes to breath, and I mean a few minutes, allow me to thank you for sharing your experiences with me on your first C-54 flight. I also appreciate your kind words for a safe journey. I feel we shared the same feelings and experiences having been across the same route and that being my first flight across the Atlantic. Goose Bay, flying over Greenland and I agree Greenland was scary, Iceland, and Prestwick are places the "Spirit of Freedom" experienced as you have. In Iceland, we landed at Keflavik. I'm not sure where Meeks Field is in Iceland, or if it still exists.
It must have been very confidant to fly a brand new C-54 that you picked up at West Palm Beach. I wouldn't know how to act if I would have that opportunity. All I know I was aware of every noise and vibration when we were over the North Atlantic. That, too, was scary. The whole trip to Europe and back was magnificent to say the least. We made many friends and took part in many ceremonies. I will never forget them. ...I'm looking forward to meeting you and thank you once again for the card and your kind words. It meant a lot to me."]


Back in Nashville (was it Smyrna Army Air Base?) for the fourth time, I was added to the pool to await being crewed up. Much time was spent consuming gigantic malted chocolate milkshakes at the PX while listening to "Paper Doll" by the Mills Brothers. Then the day came when my name appeared on a roster of new crews. This time we were assigned a Consolidated C-109 cargo plane which was a B-24 bomber converted to transport gasoline. The first leg was to Rome, NY where we stayed over a day or two while the navigator got over a cold and the pilot took a practice run to Detroit to visit his girlfriend. ( Don't tell anyone.) The next hop was to Bangor, ME. Then it was on to Gander, Newfoundland where we were delayed for over a month with engine trouble and weather delays. Time hung heavy as we had no contact with home. We snacked very slowly when we met together at the little line restaurant. We visited with French-Canadian fighters in their barracks as they shined their boots and told stories about the Chateau Frontenac. I have since learned that such Quebec citizens were always quite reluctant to battle for British aims. With no real selection of vices available locally, I purchased a Kaywoodie pipe and a pack of Bond Street tobacco and smoked away the hours. At last we got clearance and headed out over the Atlantic for the Azores Islands.

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