Ross Columbus Darnell Life History written by Ross Columbus Darnell in 1978 Grand Junction, Colorado I was born a second child to Roy Brock Darnell and Villa Briddy Waldrep Darnell one fine day, January 14, 1917, at approximately 6 P.M. in a family house (that still exists and is owned by my Uncle William Buford Waldrep) about 4 ½ miles northeast of Tallapoosa, Haralson County, Georgia. Present at this great birth, was my grandparents Alexander Columbus and Arminda, my aunt Venora Waldrep, my uncle William Buford Waldrep and the good doctor who delivered me, his name was Dr. Neuman. My uncle told me that my older brother, Darris Young Darnell, who was 2 ½ years old, first heard my entrance to this wide, wide world by a crying noise he mentioned that the noise must be a rooster, chicken, bird or something. It was common to be treated in one’s house for about any and all illnesses. I can remember during my young childhood it was very pleasant and one of the highlights would be to come back to my grandparent’s home to visit overnight and Sundays. My older brother, Darris Young Darnell, who was 2 ½ years older than I seemed to keep me busy in all of our young childhood days; we had lots of fun though. We had our cousins (the Vernor's) we all charged on the hillsides and swam in the rivers & creeks in the different seasons of the year. Our families are all rural and almost everyone farmed at this time. We used mules and horses to pull our buggies or wagons to travel from place to place, usually. Once our family was visiting my great aunt & uncle John Waldrep’s place and my older brother D.Y. was always ready with a rather large rock to throw at birds, etc., and at the moment he threw at the bird I stepped ahead and my head was the target that time. Needless to say, I still carry the scar in the back of my head. There was no going to the doctor or hospital for small injuries as done today. I got sympathy, was the only medication. As I think back money was almost non-existent then. If I was lucky enough to earn a dime I just knew I was rich, I really had lots of time to plan for a purchase. My father followed the construction trade in off seasons, or continuously if the job was important enough to get full pay – in addition to try to farm crops such as cotton, corn & soy beans, etc. I can remember much of myself and my brother’s time seemed to be spent with a hoe chopping or thinning cotton or other crops and chopping out weeds as needed and that seemed constant from the time it came up until it was time to harvest the crops. All work was performed without any power equipment, just by hands, back or any way you could get it done. I will always remember the real cold days in the Fall and Winter if there was any spare time we would cut wood for the fireplace for heat and the cook stove to cook on, as well as shuck corn, etc. My schooling was in the rural schools in the community in which we lived. I was fortunate when I was real young to attend school where my mother taught when I was in the lower grades. We always enjoyed our school days as it was always impressed upon us that learning as much as you could was very important then, and certainly, later on in life. In December 1928, when I was about 12 years of age, my father, mother, brother and I went through a very traumatic time of life. We left Haralson County, Georgia and moved to Lusk, Throckmorton County, Texas. This move had been planned for some time and much thought & preparation had gone into it since it meant a whole new life for all of us moving West to everything completely new & different. The real reason for the move was to take care of a great uncle, Elihu Waldrep, of my mother’s who was about 80 years of age and needed someone to give aid to him in his advanced years. My mother had made the trip from Georgia to Texas too look over the situation about six months before our move so she could tell us of the situation, and I will say, she answered many questions until the day we arrived in Texas. It took us about 3 days to travel by car since the roads, etc. were not so modern then. I will never forget crossing the Mississippi river on a ferry at Vicksburg, Mississippi in flood stage. It looked like the whole Gulf of Mexico in width and I thought we would never get across that body of water and felt I likely would never travel back across it to return back to Georgia again. This thought was expelled tho, when I was about 17 years old I drove my mother, sister, and brother (Nell & Joe) back to Georgia to see relatives & friends. This was some experience driving a 1931 Model A Ford on a trip that distance and with my mechanical ability and a lot of luck we made the trip spending about 6 weeks back in Georgia with my grandmother and uncle in the house I was born in. This house still stands and is lived in (August/Summer 1978). Needless to say, this was a very enjoyable trip for us all except probably my father who was batching it back in Texas trying to take care of things there. Things happened to our family after our move to Texas. My sister, Nell, came to live with us and about 3 years later my brother Joe was born so we were a family of two older boys and Nell & Joe. As I look back I was not home very much after they were born as my older brother, D.Y., and I were getting old enough to go out on our own, as we did. He joined the Army and served about 9 years. I graduated high school in Caddo, Stephens County, Texas and as I look back now that was a very carefree part of my life, very enjoyable we were in the time when automobiles were becoming more plentiful and I was always interested in going anywhere I could to travel and I did so. One trip I can remember in 1936 when in high school; our school superintendent was an auto dealer (as a sideline) and we went to Detroit, Michigan and picked up new cars; driving one and pulling one; in those days this was permitted. By the way, these were Hudson Terraplanes, long gone by the boards in manufacture now. During those Depression days, mid 1930’s, it was difficult for a young man to find a paying job. I tried joining the Navy; since I knew nothing of it, but was turned down as the strength was adequate and did not need anyone then. I tried to go to work for an oil company in Abeline, Texas and attend Abeline Christian College on a support scholarship but this also was an exercise in futility. I was 20-21 years old. I finally got work in a Texas road house (good food & beer) on the county border of Stephens & Shackelford and this was an experience I will never forget. This work was from 6 P.M. to 6 A.M. seven days per week with a few hours off on Saturday taken out of my sleeping time. My pay was room and board plus $30 per month. My duties were Service Station Attendant, waiting on the counter serving alcohol (beer & wine) up to 14%, cooking sandwiches of all kinds, and whatever else this type of business presented for one to do. I had a varied education in this occupation for a whole year and I was beginning to have the idea that I wanted no part of this type of life. I can remember one Christmas season the people from Breckenridge and Albany met at our place (the road house) for a celebration and it literally was. Sometime after midnight, when everyone was beginning to feel no pain, a fight broke out and we had tables, chairs, and about everything else to try to take care of with fighting, screaming and noise of all kind to contend with. When things got almost out of hand my boss, Harry Cutshall, pulled out his old police special Colt .45 and order was restored finally. He was an ex-policeman. After a few more of these celebrations I was involved in I began to look for other type of employment and to this day you could never get me interested in any of this type of business (booze, nightlife) no matter how much money there could be made. October 1938, after searching for employment in the area I took the opportunity to come to Estes Park, Colorado in the Rocky Mountain National Park to work for the government in a CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) camp. This was a great learning experience for me as we were exposed to lots of different trades such as truck driving, photography, cooking, baking, clerical, civil engineering subjects, weather high in the Rockies and many others. One thing we learned was to live with other people, which is very important. I became interested in property management and administration work and had many months of good experience while high in the mountains. One experience I can remember was, in the Summer the college girls would come to work in the mountain lodges nearby and without fail we knew when they were coming and when they had to leave in the Fall. Many lasting friendships were made at these places. These were the good old days. My service in the Civilian Conservation Corps was [as] an enrollee to an assistant company commander (called a subaltern). In the Summer of 1939 we had word that it was possible for those who qualified to transfer to Grand Junction, Colorado which I did with gusto. We had our own educational system and as I could also attend Mesa College at night or any free times. The camp was located where the VA hospital is now situated in Grand Junction and another camp was next door. With these two camps and six others within a radius of 50 miles of GJ this was a tremendous boost to the  economy as well as occasionally it would try the law enforcement departments on weekends. I lucked out shortly after I arrived here (GJ), I got the supply job I wanted and enrolled in Mesa College. The college was where the GJ City Hall is now; it was a 2 story building. It was finally condemned and was torn down about the time the Mesa College administration building was finished (1940). The City Hall building has the brick that was formerly the Mesa College administration building. With work and school to take care of we were kept busy except our free time on the weekends and holidays of which my good friend (Buford Hayworth, Ft. Gibson, Oklahoma) and I took good advantage of. This was a very carefree part of my life; I look back on it with much reflection of the good times we had here in Grand Junction. The Heavenly Father just had to be with me when I met my wonderful wife, Geneva, who was here attending Ross Business College, then on 400 block of Main Street, where American Fur[niture?] Co. is now. She was from Cortez, Colorado having been born & reared there. Her parents farmed a dry land place for several years and then her father & mother purchased a dairy in Cortez where Geneva helped with the many chores that a small town dairy would present. Geneva & I met here in Grand Junction, Colorado on a blind date and we dated for a little less than a year, got engaged for a few months and then we were married January 12, 1941. We drove to Green River, Utah and were married there the same night. Mormon Bishop J. Barnett did the job for us and our good friends, the (Buford) Hayworth’s were the witnesses. They had just gotten married a few weeks before so we were led on just a little; they were good about doing these types of things. Geneva & I had just been married four days and on her way to work early one morning she was involved in a car wreck as a passenger, breaking her right arm below the elbow. This was some blow to us newlyweds. Her arm was broken in such a place and it took months before she was able to get the cast off. Her arm is still not very straight or strong, yet. My work took me to Worland, Wyoming and she remained here with her parents in GJ, who had sold out in Cortez and moved here. I was with the War Department in those days as a civilian employee hired by Federal Civil Services after having had my name come from the personnel register that was maintained then. My work was office admin, working on payroll, etc. in the office of the construction engineer at Cheyenne, Wyoming (Fort Francis E. Warren). I had transferred from Worland after having spent about 6 months there and I was really happy about that. We then spent about six months in Cheyenne and took a transfer to Colorado Springs, Colorado for which I was also pleased. I really had all of Cheyenne’s cold & wind to do me for the rest of my life. “I got back through there 42 years later.” At Colorado Springs I went to work there at Camp Carson (now Ft. Carson) before the first building had heat or water; this was February 14, 1942 in the personnel leave records & hiring department office. I ran into some very interesting personal histories on the employment applications. In those days a criminal record was not a desirable thing but I found lots of people who did admit to having spent time in prison at Cañon City who were hired. I worked at Camp Carson until I was drafted into the Army in early 1944. While we were at Colorado Springs our son, Donald Ross, and daughter, Jo Ann, were born. Our rents went up three times in six weeks so we decided it was enough and began to look for a place to live. The growth impact had hit the town due to the military involvement, etc. We found an army officer who was shipping out to go overseas so we purchased his mobile house to try to have a place to live without being caught in the higher rent squeeze further. We liked to live in Colorado Springs and were doing very well when [Gruting?] came for me to go for my physical, I did, to Denver and my papers were stamped all over to go into the Navy when called – after job and children deferments Mr. Roosevelt sent me a further personal word that my services would be needed and back to the induction center I went expecting to be some sort of a sailor. This was not to be, I suppose, as it was explained to me good men were needed in Europe in the Army and for that day the Navy didn’t need me. So Army it was for sure. I was sent from Grand Junction after having gotten my wife and the two youngsters situated in an apartment near her parents. Needless to say, these were sorrowful days for me and my dear wife; the not knowing anything except the actual induction day and that came real soon. 7-13-1944. We loaded on the train and went to Denver at Ft. Logan, Colorado (near Denver) for processing, we were, and then on out on a troop train headed East and finally we went South stopping down in Tyler, Texas where we were to reside for about 17 to 20 weeks taking Infantry Replacement training. Many bodies were needed in Europe very badly then, so after this intensive training program we were on shipping orders to go, who knows where. My wife & little daughter were sick and it was just before Christmas and I was to ship out to the port of embarkation which was New York Harbor so all of these factors made my plight harder to accept. The only way I could accept the task was to realize that I wasn’t alone and the word patriotism was a meaningful word to almost all Americans then. We were processed in Ft. Mead, Maryland & finally Camp Shanks, New York before we took that glorious & wonderful cruise to Europe or someplace. This wonderful mode of travel was a victory ship made in California and if I live to be 100 years old I will never forget that 18 days at sea in the Atlantic during various winter storms. If you can visualize a cork the size of a half dollar traveling downstream in the Colorado River during Spring runoff it would give a little comparison, except we had men inside this metal thing called a ship on a zig zag course – wow! We finally made it to the Mediterranean Sea and on inland toward Southern France finally landing at Marseilles, France. I certainly had mixed emotions about this landing as one might guess but somewhat at ease to have my two feet on the ground once more, regardless of where it was. After seeing ourselves housed in tents on the wet & cold ground, the French children feeding from our garbage cans, I suppose I had to try to turn off some of my emotions and begin thinking of how to try to endure what was to come. I had a case of flu, tonsillitis, needed some medication, once I was fortunate to get aspirin I finally got better. No tonsillitis since then. After days of processing, etc. we found ourselves in [alsoc] Lorraine, south France (assigned to our fighting unit without much delay and with less comfort or peace of mind). This all took place less than six months from induction date, you guessed it, we weren’t seasoned soldiers but we were there for a cause: to kill or be killed. Whether one thinks he would ever use his basic training and a lot of that assimilation we went through it does come a bit natural when one gets himself involved in trying to avoid a direct hit of artillery, fire, or any other type of war weapons directed in his vicinity as the target. No matter how long I live I will never forget the sensation one has advancing under the arc of machine gun or artillery fire going into an attack toward the enemy. It’s these days one could say he fully earned his money. (I know now how I lost my hair & some of my nerve.) Another sensation of concern is to be fired at point blank range by the enemy, like, have rounds pass between your legs and pass on each side of you next to a [?] building. This experience I could have done without. This and many, many more experiences happened to me and some of my buddies...the day we crossed the Rhine River in assault boats (5 per boat) in March 1945 so dark you could not see anything except when the artillery from behind us open up (one of the longest barrages up until that day that had ever occurred). We could sort of stumble along. This was another interesting feeling: getting out of this little boat with 4 other men advancing to a rendezvous point, dodging artillery fire, both ours & theirs in the beginning, and then later machine gun & small arms fire (we thought) hoping daylight would come soon. My boat load got disoriented (thanks to a nutty Sergeant) and we were presumed to be captured for 3 days, then we finally found out where our outfit was and made our way there. This was our first real brush we had with German civilians so you can imagine why ersatz [Ersatzkaffee] (what they used for coffee) tasted like to a G.I., we thought it was poison or something. Our mission was to advance along the industrial Ruhr area clearing out the enemy as we advanced which we did. I can remember after capturing many German soldiers we later needed a place for what was left of our squad of men to stay the rest of the night; there was no electricity, water, or any utilities naturally as artillery fire, etc. had knocked this all out, we spent the night there and when it became light we discovered we were the guests of two deceased women behind the couch in the living room some of us bunked in. I think we became very hard human beings with buddies being hit all around us. This was a war of much needless suffering and so very much hardship from all concerned. Another experience I can remember was where we had advanced all day and into the night in battle with tank support; in fact, we rode the tanks when we were so tired but near dark we were moving along when we were fired upon by enemy tank & small arms fire; this happened to be out in the open & flat ground and as we came off those tanks and hit the ground nearby a mole surely couldn’t get any flatter to the ground. After advancing further and later that night I was called to go make contact with another unit who had advanced out of one Army Boundary into enemy territory across a large stream. When my patrol got about midway on the large bridge the Germans fired upon us with this railroad artillery (a huge artillery piece mounted on a railroad flat car) gun. I still don’t seem to have the words to describe my feelings that took place when that ball of fire (it looked like the moon) came straight at us. Thank heavens it missed us. We made our patrol duty and met their patrol trying to contact us. We met, took the prisoners, and went back to our outfit. A sliver star was issued to the party. Later our squad had set up resting quarters in an active beer house (joint) and, would you believe, the Germans landed an “88” artillery shell into our room; it did not explode, so we very carefully notified the 101st Airborne Artillery who took over the next morning to be easy or they could have an explosion that would waste about anyone, or anything in the near vicinity. [More written in 1994:] This is probably enough about the “Big War” we call it; since time has passed to date there was “Korea”, “Vietnam”, Granada & of course Desert Storm and other places we are trying to use our tax dollars to save the world. Not to say how many lives are lost. Don, our eldest son, served in Vietnam for a year; he was an F-4 Phantom Jet Pilot, that’s another book and his history. To go back in time, I was discharged from service February 5, 1946 in Camp Fannin, Texas about 100 miles northeast of Dallas, Texas where I took my basic training. I was a very relieved and grateful person to have been an honorably discharged soldier with hopes of forgetting some of the past two years. Geneva & the two children, Don & Jo Ann, came on down from Grand Junction, Colorado to where I was taking my training to be with me as much as was possible and when I was shipped out, she went to Breckenridge, Texas to be with my parents and brother, Joe, and sister, Nell while I was gone. Geneva was working for National Farm Loan (farm lending agency) to help supplement income and to keep occupied. My support to her from government & my pay was $100 per month. We stayed for about 3 weeks in Texas so she could get her vacation pay before we left for Grand Junction, Colorado. I got a job in a real estate, property management and insurance office with 3 owners. I was lucky to be able to work with good, honest men that taught me a great deal about life, liberty & the pursuit of happiness. I took G.I. bill training on the job in insurance that was very helpful to me as well as many other business matters such as banking, real estate, property management, etc. My teacher who was approved by the government was Miles M. Kane, a wonderful man, he served in World War II in the South Pacific (mainly Okinawa), he was smart, considerate and always thought of his fellow man. Mr. Borschell was much older than us, a fine man. Mr. Robert M. Porter, a little younger than Mr. Borschell, was also a very fine man with much knowledge to share. Geneva and I bought a house, 625 White Avenue in GJ, close to work, older house, for $5,000, furnished (not very well), and the loan was handled thru the office I worked in it so happened. Borschell-Porter-Kane Agency also collected 1st mortgage paper for individuals in these days. The real estate department would sell the property and arrange for the loan. I was very satisfied with my job & work there. In about 2 years we sold our home and purchased one at 1130 Ouray Avenue, a larger house; then in 1950 Michael Dean Darnell came to live with us and in 1953 Linda Kay came to live with us. So our family became larger and we had more responsibilities of family to take care of. Wages were never very much to shout about in this part of the country but a good place to live & raise a family. I will always remember Mr. Porter telling me as we discussed incomes in GJ, he said “with all of this beauty here if we could convert some of the beauty to money we would have more money to spend”. I have used this saying many times but am glad to have lived here so long and enjoy this beauty.