The Sight of Trees and the Taste of Milk

It was six o’clock on a bitterly cold January morning in 1946 when 3,000 homesick young American croweded the decks of the USS Marine Robin and started solemnly eastward.

I was one of them.

We shivered and shook from the cold which to us, was particularly punishing because we were returning from a tour of duty in tropical India and jungles of Burma, but not one person chose to remain comfortably below decks. All eyes strained towards the horzion, which was a barely discernible line separating the blue-black seas from the dark grey sky.

Suddenly – there it was – far off but unmistakable, a bright red drop clearly visible across the inky expanse of the Pacific. A mighty shout roared forth from those decks and I felt hot tears singe my lashes. So much emotion at the sight of one small red dot! Ah, but we knew the significance of the bit of brightness. The ships Captain had alerted us the night before; "At six am, " he’d said, "we’ll see the lighthouse at the mouth of the Columbia River."

The Columbia River! Not the Ganges: not the Hooghly: not the Rhine – the Columbia – our Columbia! We were home! It had been disappointing to learn our ship would be landing at Portland, Ore. It would have been more thrilling, I thought, to return via New York or San Francisco….

Wrong! So wrong! Neither the Statue of Liberty nor the Golden Gate Bridge could have been as impressive as the magnifienet trees that bordered the lovely Columbia River. After we had lived so long among palm trees, scrub oak, those huge stately pines really spelled home!

On entering the river, our ship was met by barges carring cheering highschoolers and tugboats that sprayed streams of red, white and blue water.

It was well past noon when the USS Marine Robin slid into dockage. Waiting on the pier was a crowd of enthusiastic welcomers, Civilians! American civilians! Women! American women! … in civilian clothes, fur coats and fancy hats, some holding babies – American babies!

For this 22-year olds niece of Uncle Sam, the entire scene was a mind-blower! I’d had many exciting adventures in the course of my world tour as an Army Nurse in World War II, but nothing before or since ever matched the thrill of setting foot on that dock in Portland.

The Nurses were the first to disembark – in alphabetical orders. An Officer stood at the foot of the gangplank with a clipboard. He read off each last naem and we were supposed to resond with our first – typical Army efficiency! Ha!

"Lt Firsching," He intoned as No. 5 scurried off.

"Here I am – Goodbye you guys, home save," I said, waving wildly to the troops lining the ship’s rails and blowing kisses at them all.

"Lt. Firsching," the officer repeated sternly.>

"Yep, that’s me, here I am." Still looking upwards and waving. "Have a good life, men. Good luck! Bye-Bye," He tried twice more but my ears heard him not,. A smiling Red Cross lady stood before me offering a tray of cups’

"Oh no, thank you," I said. I’m much to excited to drink coffee.

"This isn’t coffee, Lieutennant, it’s milk."

"Milk? Milk!!"

I grabbed eagerly but my hands shook so, it was not possible to hold the cup, much less dring from it. My favorite beverage, which we had missed so fiercely – and I was unable to drink it. Much later there was a brief interval of freedom and I rushed downtown for a memorable milkshake at a drugstore soda fountain.

Portland, Oregon! Those words always bring a smile and warm memories of that beautiful river, those wonderful trees and the lovely people who welcomed us home.

Submitted by Lt. Ruth F. Heckinger, CBI Nurse.

I am looking for former members of the 3rd Combat Cargo Group, 1st, Combat Cargo Group, 2nd Combat Cargo Group and the 4th Combat Cargo Group. In fact I would like to hear from anyone who flew over the Hump during WW II, or flew any Combat Cargo Missions at any time (Berlin Air-Lift, Korea, etc.)

Please e-mail comment, suggestions, corrections,etc to: bill@comcar.org

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