In mid July, many people take a vacation. From July 21 to August 5, 1944, Cliff Digre was on a 15-day furlough (“a leave of absence from duty granted especially to a soldier”). On pages 52-54, Cliff describes that furlough.
“My good friend since radio school, George Larson, a 100% Norwegian from Oregon City, Oregon, decided it would take him 10 or 12 days of round-trip travel time leaving very little time at home, so George came to Minnesota with me. George was a very congenial person, fun to be with, and he fit in great with the Hendricks’ Norwegians.
“Our train ride to Minneapolis was miserable. The hot, humid weather of Florida was with us all the way. To make it even worse, the train was a combination troop and milk train, stopping at every podunk town en route. It was more than a two-day ride to Chicago with a several-hour layover before another ten-hour ride to Minneapolis, and a night in Minneapolis before the four-hour bus ride to Canby where my sister Clara and her husband, Carvell, met us. The traveling time was not pleasant. By the time we got to Hendricks, we both had had enough, and George was glad he had decided not to go home to Oregon.
“Our days in Hendricks were relaxing, nothing super exciting, activities such as picnics by the lake—one with Clara and Carvell and another with my sister Pearl.
Clara and Carvell were always there to pick me up when I returned to Hendricks for leave. They picked me up in either Canby or Marshall. In this picture, I was on leave before going overseas. Standing left to right are: Carvell, Clara, me, my mother, my sister Pearl, and my dog Spot whom I’d had since I was six years old; he lived to be nineteen.
“George and I rowed Carvell’s big heavy wooden fishing boat across the lake. Each afternoon it was coffee time with mother and Pearl in the back yard, playing with my dog, Spot—just small-town pleasures.
George Larson and I having coffee in our back yard with my sister Pearl and mother, Carrie Digre.
“One hot, hot afternoon A. P. Johnson, Carvell’s dad, cornered us on Main Street. He said with all the young men in the service it was hard to get farm help, and asked if we would come out to one of his farms and shock grain. In four solid hot hours, A. P., George, and I shocked a big field of oats. A. P. gave each of us a $5 bill—enough for a few beers out at Bohemian Hall the following Sunday night.
“Much of the time was spent visiting with and saying goodbyes to friends and relatives. My final goodbye with Mother was hard, knowing that in a month or so I would likely be in combat. I couldn’t help but wonder—would I ever be home again?”
Norwegian | Sue | 
May 26, 2010 1:22 pm | 
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