Tag Archives: World War II

What We Owe to the C.C.C.

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Two weeks ago in this space we looked at the C.C.C., or Civilian Conservation Corps, and what it did locally during the New Deal of 1933 to 1942. C.C.C. was a one-year employment program for young men (or in some cases, Great War veterans), focusing on outdoor work. Watkins Glen, Allegany, Stony Brook, Buttermilk, Taughannock, and Robert Treman State Parks all owe a great deal of their infrastructure to the C.C.C., and they did some of the earliest work to create Montezuma National Wildlife Refuge.
Besides that, they were called into service after the catastrophic 1935 flood killed 44 people. That flood flowed in part from poor land use practices – a problem the state geologist had warned about well before the Civil War. The U.S. Soil Service made the upper Conhocton River, especially the Avoca area, a showcase soil conservation project. Part of this included reforestation, and C.C.C. lads created many tree plantations, including one in the shape of a giant “A” that overlooked Avoca for many years. (It was partly removed when the Southern Tier Expressway came in.) A drainage ditch in Howard, near Buena Vista, is probably C.C.C. Work.
The C.C.C. men put in roads, drainage, and stone buildings for Chenango Valley State Park… not to mention a nine-hole golf course. C.C.C. crews working in Green Lakes State Park in Fayetteville included a company of veterans from the SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR!
Since much of the New Deal was created “on the run,” the C.C.C. was put under charge of the only government agency used to dealing with large numbers of young men – the army.
But these were VERY LARGE numbers in the Triple-Cees. Military men like Omar Bradley and Dwight Eisenhower learned how to work with that – a skill that would be vital in the World War II years of 1940-45.
They also learned to work with men who expected to be treated as citizens, rather than as recruits to be abused and screamed at.
The generation that grew up in the Depression largely missed out on medical care, dental care, and proper diet. In the Triple-Cees they ate well, some for the first time in their lives. They got their teeth fixed. They got their vaccinations. They got care for treatable conditions. Over a fifth of World War II recruits washed out medically. Without C.C.C., it would have been far higher.
Young men learned skills (such as construction) that made them employable in the civilian world AND vital in the military. Those who didn’t have diplomas were given courses, and finished high school. Those who were illiterate (a startling percentage) were taught to read – all of which would strengthen the World War II army, and our postwar civilian economy.
President Roosevelt fiercely decreed that the program would have no hint of militarization, and wouldn’t even offer R.O.T.C. – he didn’t want anything even vaguely like the Hitler Youth.
Even so, participants experienced some very basic military features – uniforms, camps, barracks, K.P. When they went into the service in our huge buildup, these men already had a speaking acquaintance with the military way of doing things. It eased their transition, AND the army called on them as leaders for the younger rookies.
Actors Raymond Burr, Robert Mitchum, and Walter Matthau were C.C.C “graduates.” So was Archie Moore, future Light Heavyweight Boxing World Champion. Baseball great Stan Musial was in the C.C.C. Chuck Yeager, World War II fighter ace and first man to break the sound barrier, did his term in the C.C.C. So all in all, we owe a great debt of thanks to the Civilian Conservation Corps.

The Farming Story Part 4: Prohibition, Depression, Floods, and War

As in the Civil War, so in World War I. The young farm hands went into uniform even as agricultural demand boomed. (We were helping feed France and Britain, as well as ourselves.) There was local agitation to create a Farm Bureau, which as we know was effective, and the Farm Bureau quickly set up tractor workshops. Farms mechanized, BUT the war ended unexpectedly in 1918. Farm prices crashed, and many farmers were now left struggling with time payments on their equipment.

*Then, at the same time, Prohibition came in! This closed the wineries and ruined the grape growers. We think of the Great Depression as starting in 1929. But for many farm families it started ten years earlier, in 1919. With widespread use of the motorcar, community and economic life began to dry up in the hamlets. They had had their own stores, schools, doctors, churches, undertakers. But who needed the little store in Coss Corners or Harrisburg Hollow when you could drive to Bath… or from Perkinsville to Wayland, Bloomerville to Avoca, Hornby to Corning? The rich man of Risingville now ran a shabby little shop in the sticks, with an outhouse in the back, and a kerosene lamp on the counter.

*This is the period in which thousands of Steuben people joined the Ku Klux Klan, which then as now exploited fear and turned it into hate by telling lies about people who are Not Like Us, and blaming THEM for all the trouble.

*When the Great Depression truly set in, one bright star locally (besides the evaporation of the Klan) was the repeal of Prohibition in 1933. Charles Fournier came from France to revive Gold Seal with up-to-date practices. Taylor, which had eked its way through the dry years, expanded its operation, and new wineries opened. Every Labor Day growers and buyers met in Penn Yan to hammer out “the grape deal,” establishing prices that would be paid that year.

*This is also the period in which County Agent Bill Stempfle took the lead in reviving and modernizing potato production in the mucklands, bringing in growers from Maine and Long Island who were grateful to find lower land prices, and whose intensive farming practices could offset worn-out land. And, of course, there were New Deal programs to help the farmer.

*BUT this is the period in which the bill came due for almost 150 years of short-sighted land use practices… especially when catastrophic floods struck in 1935, 1936, and 1946. The ’35 flood, which killed 44 people regionwide, was in many ways far worse than the ’72 flood. One Avoca sharecropper in 1935 received as his share for the year one calf. Avoca became a pilot program for New Deal soil conservation practices. From this period we get diking and re-routing of the Conhocton and Canisteo Rivers, the Almond Dam, the Alfred Dam, tree plantations, drainage ditches… much of the work carried out by Civilian Conservation Corps lads from their main camp in Kanona.

*When the New Deal started, 10% of American farms had electricity. When it ended eight years later with the advent of World War II, 10% of farms did NOT. However, that 10% included Steuben County. R.E.A. got about 50 miles of wire strung before the needs for another world war cut off their materials. But demand for farm producrs, once again, went up… even as, once again, the prime workers were siphoned away.

After Pearl Harbor: Americans Race Into War

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Americans got the word about Pearl Harbor mighty quick by radio… almost while the attack was under way. On the following day President Roosevelt announced that damage had been “severe,” and that “very many American lives” had been lost.

*But it would be a long time before anxious families heard from their loved ones. A river of telegrams started bringing bad news, and that river kept flowing for four years. If families were lucky, instead of a telegram they finally got a post card, on which servicemen and -women had not been allowed to write a message. All they could do was check off pre-printed information, from “I am fine” to “I am in the hospital,” and various choices in between.

*Steve Carassas, a naval musician from Hammondsport, was blown off his ship in Pearl Harbor while playing the National Anthem. He would later be cast into the sea at the Battle of Kula Gulf, and spend the night in the water as a great sea battle raged around and above him. He survived the war but not by much, and his untimely death was presumably driven by his war experiences.

*He wasn’t the only one. Corporal Reuben Shettler of Pulteney died in a Japanese prison camp in 1942, shortly after the Bataan Death March and the surrender of the Philippines. Army nurse Eunice Young was captured on Corregidor, and remained a P.O.W. for almost three years. China missionary Bessie Hille of Bath spent most of 1943 interned as an enemy civilian until exchanged with the help of neutral Sweden.

*Manufacturing of consumer goods almost evaporated. There were no new cars. Tires, shoes, gas, and sugar were rationed. Rural electrification, just getting under way in Steuben, immediately stalled.

*Manufacturing for war, on the other hand, boomed. Mercury Aircraft jumped from two employees to 850, making components for Curtiss military aircraft. Women, elderly people, African Americans, Latin Americans, and underage kids found new employment opportunities. Sixteen million Americans went into uniform, and the civilian work force still grew. Haverling School raised salaries across the board. At least one man from Bath worked on the “Manhattan Project” to build the atomic bomb.

*Hammondsport graduated 14 students in 1939, but a wartime yearbook listed 90 alumni and faculty in the service (14 of them died). George Haley of Bath went from Syracuse University into the Tuskegee Airmen and the first of three wars he would fight in… opportunities he would have been denied a year or two earlier.

*Rochester Business Institute taught military office management, Civilian Pilot Training, and aviation ground school instructor courses… for men and women. Hammondsport opened a Defense Training School to teach the skills needed in war factories.

*Hornell High School became an air-raid warden’s post. Aircraft spotters watched the skies over Hammondsport, and over Arkport Dam. An air-raid warden in Corning was issued a large noisy rattle, specifically for signaling gas attacks.

*Over a hundred Nakajima dive bombers took part in the Pearl Harbor attack — Lieutenant Nakajima had come to Hammondsport in 1911, to learn to fly. Glenn Curtiss was long dead, but the very few American airplanes that got into the air were mostly Curtiss P-40 Warhawks and Curtiss P-36 Mohawks. Seaplane tender USS Glenn H. Curtiss was one of the few American vessels to get into motion, shooting down two airplanes and helping sink a midget submarine, while suffering 19 dead. New vessels in the expanded navy included USS Hammondsport (an airplane transport), USS Chemung, USS Cohocton, and USS Canisteo (all oilers).

*Every month the county draft contingent was sworn in at the courthouse in Bath, then marched (no doubt very badly) to the DL&W depot. The Old-Timers Band performed for each contingent, their numbers padded out by a few callow youths waiting for their own turn.

*President Roosevelt developed the G.I. Bill of Rights to reward the men and women in uniform, but also because it was a massive social engineering program designed to give millions of Americans college educations, and turn them into homeowners — dreams out of reach for most Americans until then.

*The end came with explosive rejoicing, but also left many empty spaces behind. Millions lived the rest of their lives with physical or emotional wounds… and so did those who were close to them. And, of course, America was now deeply and permanently engaged with the rest of the world… something nobody would have predicted on December 6, 1941.

From Muskets to Mustangs — 2015 Steuben Couny Hall of Fame (Part I)

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The 2015 class of Steuben County Hall of Fame was honored on May 2. As usual, they were three in number. All three are deceased. All three are male. All three are military veterans, but only one was honored strictly for his military service, and one partly so.

JOHN KENNEDY lived so far back that we don’t have any clue about his appearance – not even a sketch or a silhouette. He was one of the Kennedys of Kennedyville – now called Kanona.

During the War of 1812 he was an ensign in the militia, and on October 31 of that year General van Rensellaer ordered an attack across the Niagara River. Many of the militia balked, insisting that they were organized only for defense of the state, not for an offensive out of the country into Canada.

The frustrated general asked for volunteers, and Kennedy stepped up. Once they had crossed his company captain reported himself sick and hustled back to the American side. When the new commander was badly wounded Kennedy gathered his own men and whatever disorganized troops he could find into a scratch company with himself at the head… all the time under fire. The Battle of Queenston Heights became a series of small fights, in which Kennedy led from the front, always in danger. He even led his untried and untrained force on a bayonet charge that broke up an attack by redcoat veterans.

Two years later he was back, now captain of a new Steuben County company at the siege of Fort Erie. Once he led a sortie to capture a fortified artillery position, drive off its troops, sabotage the big guns, and rush back to safety. Instead of medals in those days they gave out brevets, or honorary promotions. Kennedy was jumped up three ranks to colonel.

Back home he ran an inn a Kennedyville, held several public offices, and in 1825 became the second elected sheriff in Steuben history – the first to be elected without having earlier held the spot by appointment. Eventually he moved out Dansville way, but only spent six months there before his death at 42. Sad to say, no one now even knows where he’s buried.

JAMES W. EMPEY of Bath joined up for World War II when he turned 18, and in 1943 arrived in Corsica to start flying Spitfire fighter planes against the Germans. A year later he was using the far more modern P-51 Mustang, and in one of these he shot down five German aircraft – making himself an “ace” – in thirty days.

Considering that most pilots never shot down an enemy, this was a remarkable achievement – perhaps the only “ace” ever from Steuben County. After the war he became an Air Force test pilot.

A couple of decades later he was back in the fight, sick and tired, he said, of 18- and 19-year-olds coming back from Vietnam in body bags. Disbelieving youngsters called him the Red Baron as he slipped into the cockpit wearing his goggles, white scarf, and leather helmet from World War II. Now instead of testing cutting-edge aircraft he was taking to the skies in a slow unarmed Cessna O-1 “Bird Dog” (first used in 1947), getting in close to spot and mark enemy positions so that the F-100 Super Sabres could jet in and blast them. He retired as a lieutenant colonel with a Silver Star, two Distinguished Flying Crosses, and no less than 27 air medals.

Next week: a look at the third 2015 inductee, Dr. Joseph E. Paddock.

“Keep ’em Flying!”

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President Roosevelt horrified military and manufacturers alike in 1940, when he called for US industry to produce 50,000 warplanes a year. This was 25 times the then-current output, at a time when the Air Corps had 1100 combat-ready aircraft. Many suspected FDR of pulling the number out of thin air (at least it SOUNDED great), and very few people had any clue how such a job would get done, or how long it would take.
But with increasing demand from Europe and the Far East, and with the Axis declaration of war in 1941, Americans (and Canadians) threw themselves into the challenge. Both nations supplied themselves, and their allies around the globe, with every possible weapon of war — from bootlaces and aircraft carriers to computers and atom bombs.
The work yanked both countries out of the Depression, and transformed society. African-Americans began a third great exodus to the manufacturing cities of the north, while Americans of all races flowed to the newer industries on the west coast… the first time there had been a substantial black population there. By war’s end, half of California’s personal income originated with the Federal government.
Women, once the heart of the factory labor force but excluded for decades, returned in millions. High-schoolers and retirees filled out industry’s ranks, along with neutral Latin Americans. Personal savings soared, to be unleashed in a postwar buying boom that lasted nearly three decades.
America, Roosevelt told his people, must be the great arsenal of democracy. By 1943 workers exceeded their President’s call, cranking out 86,000 military airplanes. The US Army Air Forces alone took a quarter-million aircraft of all types onto strength during the war, well over half of them combat machines. Air power went a long way toward winning the Second World War. American workers went a long way toward making it happen, and western New York plays an important part in the story.

Clouds of Warplanes
A Ninth Air Force Thunderbolt pilot told me that when he was flying air cover for the crossing of the Rhine, he flew in a stream of aircraft that went beyond the curvature of the earth both before and behind him. Given the numbers involved — even looking solely at US production — this was no surprise!
In 1941 total US fighter production amounted to 2246 Curtiss P40’s, 926 Bell P39’s, and 609 of all other types combined. This means that in the year our war started, 84% of our fighters came from Buffalo, where both Curtiss and Bell manufactured, with good results for our region’s economy.
At the height of the war, Curtiss alone had one employee in Buffalo for every twelve residents. Besides engineers, managers, and assembly workers, both companies needed pilots; nurses; day-care workers; publicity people; troubleshooters; janitors; cooks; writers; editors; photographers… and plenty more! Curtiss had its own police force, and its own fire department.
This spilled over, too. The army designated Mercury Aircraft as a major subcontractor for Curtiss, and built them a huge new facility to make it happen. Employment at the Hammondsport firm went from two to 850. They made over 10,000 fin-and-rudder combinations for the P40. They also made gas tanks, oil tanks, and support devices for photographic work.
All this work put labor in higher demand, pushing EVERYBODY’S wages up. In 1938 Bath school district was “requesting” teachers to donate a certain part of their salary back to the school. By 1943 the school was increasing compensation, openly stating that it was doing so to fit in with wartime realities.
The war period’s largest airplane makers (counting all types, from trainers on up) were North American (41,839 units), Douglas (30,980), Consolidated (30,930), and Curtiss (26,637). The top types manufactured were:
Consolidated B24 Liberator 18,188
North American P51 Mustang 15,686
Republic P47 Thunderbolt 15,683
Curtiss P40 Warhawk 13,733
Vought F4U Corsair 12,681
Grumman F6F Hellcat 12,272
North American B25 Mitchell 11,000+
Production for the Bell P39 Aircobra and Lockheed P38 Lightning fell just short of 10,000 each. Figures for some types, such as the Liberator and Thunderbolt, include units manufactured under license by other makers. For instance, in addition to those Warhawks, Curtiss in Buffalo also made a couple of hundred of the Thunderbolt total. Many western New Yorkers who never lifted a rifle played a vital role in winning World War II.

Viola Browton shows her work in the Curtiss Buffalo press and cutting department to President Edwin Barclay of Liberia.

Viola Browton shows her work in the Curtiss Buffalo press and cutting department to President Edwin Barclay of Liberia.