Of soldier-filled trains, simpler times and national unity

I was 19 and not happy about leaving my home and family — especially if it turned out to be a one-way trip. It was early in 1942, shortly after Pearl Harbor pushed America into war.

The overwhelming number of civil service employees arriving in Washington, D.C., to fill various newly created government jobs resulted in a shortage of housing, a story in itself. Our armed forces virtually exploded with the sudden and unexpected task of protecting our freedom and our nation. Millions of recruits were enlisted to be trained to serve in all of our armed forces.

Our troop train was heading east from Camp Crowder, Mo., after six weeks of basic training in the Army Signal Corps. We were now heading for New York City for two months of specialized training in communications, to be followed by assignments overseas.

There were no empty seats on the train. Each seat sat two men facing two men opposite them. Each man had two large duffel bags. The trip was long and slow, hot and boring. After early efforts at getting to know each other, we told an occasional joke trying to pass the time. A lot of time.

It was an overnight trip. After someone’s suggestion — rather loudly — we were all tired enough to want to get some sleep. So picture this: Two guys sitting opposite two other guys with hardly enough space on the floor, between the seats, for eight feet wearing G.I. shoes. We finally settled on a sleeping arrangement by having both feet resting on top of the back of the seat opposite us. From left to right on the top of the back of a seat it was in this order: Foot, head, foot, foot, head, foot.

This arrangement led to an unpleasant trick played on sleeping soldiers. It’s called the hot foot. The trickster pushes the head of a match into the area between the top of the shoe and the sole. Then, with a sinister giggle, he lights the stem portion of the match, leaving it to slowly burn toward the head of the match, resulting in a sudden flame and intense heat on the foot of the no longer sleeping, frightened soldier. Lots of laughter and good sportsmanship was generally the result.

We didn’t sleep very well, probably four or five hours with smelly interruptions. The morning’s spectacular sunrise held our attention for a few minutes. Then back to the very slow, steady, rumbling sound of the train. Then it’s slowing down — braking, actually. We came to a full stop in the middle of nowhere. We were all fidgeting, nervous, wondering where we were. Why did we stop here? How long are we going to be here? We have to remain on the train, for sure. There was no one to ask, so there were no answers.

We soon heard a familiar rumbling sound, and it wasn’t us. Pulling alongside our train was another one, also from out of nowhere. How appropriate.

All of our train’s windows were completely open during our trip because the weather was quite mild. The new train was filled with troops heading for the Pacific and the war with Japan. Compared with them, we looked like new recruits, generally pale and less self-confident. That was my impression, anyway. They looked physically fit, tanned and ready to fight. The visiting train had lined up perfectly so that all of the open windows on our train were exactly opposite the open windows on the other train. By hanging halfway out of the window, you could shake hands with the guy across from you.

The next several minutes were among the most exciting and emotional of my life. We were all complete strangers, greeting and touching each other as though we had all grown up together. All of them. There was never a moment of silence, just shaking every hand you could reach, or passing across a comic book, a bar of candy, a newspaper or some personal item.

We were all in it together, as one, to fight for our country’s freedom and safety, against the enemy, whomever and wherever they may be. During the war years, all Americans were united and willing to go out of their way to help any stranger.

New York native Sam Chinkes, a 22-year Las Vegas resident, served for two years during World War II. He is an artist and industrial designer.