So Helen, born Helen Bolling, grew up in High Point, North Carolina in the 20's and 30's. Her Parents were good Southern stock. Father Andrew Jackson Bolling was from a long line of North Carolina residents, some say stretching back to Pocahontas and King Powhatan (the red line). Her Mom, Bess, was a Cashwell, another great Carolina name stretching back to Revolutionary War times. Jack, as her dad was called, was a miller, engaged in the flour business. He was a partner in North State Milling Company, makers of Daily Bread flour, a thriving enterprise in Greensboro. Makers of the best biscuit flour in the state, as I've heard. Jack's family had farms in Deep River, between High Point and Greensboro. Jack was known for his love of horses, and Helen relayed that he was known to have the best "team" in the county. Helen liked horses, but was never a good rider. She said Jack's review was she didn't have a "seat". Bess was a school teacher, one of the few women to attend college in North Carolina in that time. Her family (a long line of Southern Baptist ministers) was big on education. So Helen and her much younger sister Betsy were well prepared to face the tasks of education. Helen in fact graduated from college at 19, attending what was then known as University of North Carolina Women's College, now UNCG. She took a rigorous course majoring in Physical Education. What you have to understand is though Helen apparently did well in school, all she really wanted to do was play ball. She apparently was talented enough that the boys in the neighborhood didn't mind her playing in their pick up games. It seems it was a struggle for Bess to keep Helen indoors doing her chores and homework when there was any action outside. Consequently, she seemed to miss out on the gene about handwork and homemaking which seemed to run in the family. Helen was more of an outside action type.
Her Dad died unexpectedly her junior year in college, so it was important for her to get a job right away after graduation. She was fortunate to have a mentor at UNCG who was well connected and able to place her students at various positions around the state. Helen got a teaching job in Rocky Mount at a 9 month school, which was apparently a good deal, for you only got paid for the time the school was open. It was at this time that she got rated by the NCAA to referee basketball games. She did a couple of these a week and, as she said, made more money doing that than teaching school. There was one season when the school football coach fell short handed for some reason and enlisted Helen to do some scouting for him of some of the other teams in the conference. Though she only had a cursory knowledge of the game, the coach taught her what to look for, and report back. As you might imagine, she became pretty well known by the various players around the league.
When war broke out, and the country was mobilizing, her mentor from UNCG called and made the recommendation she join the Red Cross. They needed experts to start up and develop recreation programs for the hordes of soldiers being brought in to the system. Though she was young, it was thought that her playground experience would be a solid background for this kind of work. Helen was game, joined up, and soon was sent to a small town near one of the camps to set up some programs. When she arrived in town, some of the proper citizens greeted her (this is the South in the early 40's) with a directive to get the general to clean up some of the brothels that seemed to be developing at a rapid pace. So this 21 or 22 year old lady goes in to meet with whatever crusty general was in charge of the camp and demands that efforts be made to curtail prostitution. "Young Lady" he says "have you ever even seen a hooker?" Helen stammered some response probably, and he adds. "I want you to know that we have the prostitutes well organized. I have one house for the enlisted, one for the NCO's and one for the officers. The girls are checked out every week, and everything is under control. Don't go messing with a system that's working." Must have been quite an eye opener for a young Southern Baptist girl.
Helen by this time had acquired a car to get around to her various activities. Actually she took over payments on her cousin's Plymouth after he enlisted. She got one of her soldier friends to drive her over to where the car was in High Point to get it, for she never even had a lesson on how to drive. He drove them back towards the camps until it got to the point where the road split. Rather than walk back, or wait for a bus, he got out, told Helen to slide over and take herself home. Made sense to her too, and off she went. Apparently there was a little parking lot prang where a headlamp was busted. A policeman helped her and asked for her license. Of course she didn't have one. He suggested that perhaps she acquire one, so the next day went to the station, filled out a form, and they gave her one. Different times. The busted headlamp was another thing. That cost some money to get fixed, which came out of meager pay for the next year. Helen was always very careful parking the car thereafter.
I don't think it was all playgrounds, basketball, and soldier rec. at this time, for there was also a lot of talk about driving for miles to tobacco warehouses to hear the big bands and go to dances. We didn't get a lot of stories about this, but there was enough to let you know Helen wasn't sitting at home all the time. Dancing and big bands remained one of her favorite listening and recreation activities. Jitterbugging, Linsey Hop, and all that. I do recall something about a trumpet player for Tommy Dorsey, but who knows?
Next thing was the Red Cross developed the idea of having Clubmobiles go over to England, where troops were gradually being shipped to get ready for invasion. These were to be large trucks equipped with donut making and coffee machines to be staffed by a group of girls from back home to lend a sense of normalcy to the otherwise rigorous life of the drafted and displaced troops. These women had to be pretty self sufficient, able to handle their trucks and logistics and keep pace with the army. Sounded like a perfect spot for Helen, with her soldier rec. experience , so off she went. Sailed on the Queen Elizabeth in May of 43 off to England as part of one of these Clubmobile units. These women had to be pretty adept. They were issued huge Bedford Lorries, given orders to appear at such and such a village, and then get their trucks, gear, and set up in place. Only thing was, this was blackout. Road signs were removed to confuse the Germans in case they invaded. People not too inclined to give info to strangers. It was no easy task finding these places. Usually they were billeted in small hotels 4 to a room in little villages. Problem was, they were never back until late at night after they had completed their duty at whatever camp to which they were assigned that day. Worn out after setting up, serving, and tearing down each night, they struggled back to a village, parked their truck wherever there was space (not nearby) found their little hotel, and inevitably had to climb in through an open window, as the doors by law had to be barred at midnight. Wake up the next day and do it again.
Its not that they got no training. After a while, the Bedfords were replaced by 2 1/2 ton GMC trucks which pulled a generator. The army didn't want their supply line messed by by a bunch of trucks in ditches driven by a group of "donut dollies" so they arranged to train them how to drive. The location was Wimbledon. There was a big pile of dirt center court which had to be navigated. Some ornery old sergeant gave directions, "If youse girls don't keep your thumbs up, you're going to lose 'em." Helen always drove with her hands at 10-2 and her thumbs along the rim, not wrapped around the spokes. A lesson not forgotten. She earned her truck driving proficiency card, still proudly displayed in the family room.
There are photos of Helen and the other girls at this time. One of my favorites shows Helen and an officer standing in the grass outside a place labeled Talbot Close, Bournemouth - Larry and Me - 3/44. Larry has a glass in his hand, arm around Helen's waist. Helen has a knee bent, leaning in to him, looking very comfortable. My guess is that it wasn't all work during this period. I don't think I ever heard anything about Larry. Usually Helen called her old boy friends "dears" My guess is he didn't make it back, not an uncommon outcome for Helen's friends at this time.
They crossed the channel in July of 44, not long after D-day. As the troops were loading one guy called up to her "Hey Carolina, looka here. Its Mizz Bolling. If she's going over, I guess it won't be too bad for us." It was one of the guys she had scouted in football a couple years earlier. She looked him up after the war. He hadn't made it. Whoever loaded the boats unwisely placed their GMC trucks on top of the anti-aircraft guns. Apparently there was some air activity as they landed and they needed the guns. So the trucks were unloaded and the women moved them to a nearby orchard to get out of the way. In the meantime night had fallen. The girls in the crew figured a good place to sleep would be under the trucks, and set up their camp accordingly. No way!! Some G-2 came over, got them out from underneath and told them to start digging foxholes nearby, but not too close. Not smart being under trucks with air activity going on. They made nice targets. Best to get out of the way. Stay safe if you can. Helen remained proud of her foxhole digging talent, bragging about it just last week.
These club-mobile troops followed close behind the army, setting up each day giving the troops aid and comfort whenever and wherever they could as they crossed France into Belgium and Germany. The lines got quite confusing, and there were times they actually got behind the German lines without knowing it. Life in the field was a bit rustic for the ladies. Helen often talked about having to pee in her helmet, much to the disgust of grandchildren, but amusement of my brother and I. Helen had one story of appearing at a village in Belgium where there were nuns who had a shower. The Red cross crew took turns washing up. When it was Helen's turn, some stocky local official turns up at the shower door demanding identification. "Red cross, Red cross" Helen gamely responds, hoping for the best. Turns out to be the local police looking for some rumored Nazi collaborators. Whew! Shower resumes.
One of Helen's fondest memories was from this time. Her 25th birthday, so it must have been Sept. 8, 1944. They are invited to meet a cardinal and tour a famous cathedral. They had to wear their best dress uniforms, cover their heads, and kiss the ring when his hand is presented. Her friend Kitty bent over to do so, got a run in her stocking which made a noise, distracted her and her face slipped on the cardinal's hand smudging lipstick all over. Embarrassed, she apologized for her clumsiness, but the cardinal put them at ease, "My dear, I haven't had a ladies lipstick smudged on me since before I took my vows." He was taken with these club-mobile girls, and learning it was Helen's birthday insisted they take a case of the good champagne they had hidden from the Germans. Somehow there was a group of soldiers with some apple tarts in this story, and the upshot was a great party with champagne and apple tarts to mark the 25th. Lesson: find your parties where you may. The best times may be unplanned.
As you might imagine, these club-mobiles became great favorites of the various generals and their outfits. Once you got attached to a particular group, they didn't want to let go and risk losing them. There were many dinner invites at the officer's mess, and a lot of gossip heard about who was performing and who wasn't. Helen was often in touch with General Bolling, who called her cousin Helen, although no direct connection was present. General Bolling's son Bud Bolling had been captured, but later escaped from a POW camp. Helen happened to be present when he re-united with his dad, and that was the basis for a bond between them. Bud went on to a long career in the army. After he retired, he became interested in genealogy and family history and started the Bolling Family Association. He contacted Helen and she has supported this group ever since. Helen often came up with little comments or tidbits of gossip she heard during these times with the brass as they spoke about Patton, Bradley, Montgomery, and others directing the course of the war and their current predicaments.
One of the things she never forgot was passing nearby one of the extermination camps. These weren't widely known at the time, but one of the officers thought it important for some of the Red Cross independent agents see what was going on. Helen's group of Club-mobile girls were taken in and shown the works. She had no time for those who claimed it was all a myth. She had been there and seen it.
After VE day, the club-mobiles stayed on servicing the troops who remained. Some joined up to go to the Pacific Theater, but Helen was ready to return home, having been away for several years. She contacted her old mentor at UNCG, and was informed the girl scouts were looking for leaders and that would be a good field for her. At this point she was staying in New York with her cousin Virginia, whose brother, CW, had first bought the car she took over payments on. I'm not sure if CW ever found out about the busted headlight though. Helen liked New York, the plays, the fashions (shoes), and probably the general pulse. High Point probably seemed pretty sleepy to her by this time. In any event, there were openings in Wilkes Barre, Wilmington, and Allentown. She took the train to interviews at all three. The interview in Allentown took place on Lincoln's birthday at the Hotel Traylor. This was a pretty good walk up the hill from the old LV railroad station. It was to be at 11:00. When Helen arrived they retired to the hotel restaurant around a lunch table with some of the town leaders who were on the scout board. First thing they did was ask what does she want to drink. Now I'm sure Helen was no stranger to booze (witness the 25th birthday story) but she is nonetheless a proper Southern lady out on a job interview. She demurely orders a glass of ice tea. The rest of the table orders the first of many martinis. I suppose the interview went rather well and at 1:30 they adjourned, allowing Helen time to get back to the station in time to catch the 2:00 train. Unfortunately, all had forgotten it was a holiday and there was no 2:00 train. By then a drizzle had started, and being February it was no doubt a bit brisk. Helen waited in the cold until 6:00 and the next train home. In spite of this inauspicious start, or perhaps because of it, she decided to take the Allentown job, and thus begins the next phase of her life.
No comments:
Post a Comment