Visits With Colleen...  

Hello Everybody...This is Colleen Haynes Rongey. I now live in New Orleans, but my heart still lives in Newton County.

Recently my husband, Paul Rongey and myself hosted a WW2 reunion of the Standard Landing Craft #32 Unit, Boat Pool #17 & 18...of the Pacific Invasion...in New Orleans at the Beinville House Hotel in the French Quarter.

SLCU32 is a Navy Group of guys who operated LCMs three years in the Pacific...serving in the battle of Peleliu and others...they were on three man landing craft units for this entire time working their boat to deliver supplies and pick up wounded from Peleliu.

Now living all over the nation, most in their late 70s and early 80s...many have died in the past two years. We had fifteen enlisted men here and three officers along with their wives and we had one widow and her children to attend.

They visited New Orleans, looked at old photos, and talked and talked...we toured the D-day Museum but the Pacific part is not open...sad...because some will never be back here, most in bad health. They loved seeing the D Day Museum and talking of their three years together in the islands...not assigned to any ship, they lived on the small landing craft, taking food where they could find it, going alongside a ship to beg a meal and a shower, or borrowing (stealing) rations from their cargo as they unloaded food on the island.

My husband, Paul Rongey, found his unit again after 40 years and we go to their annual meetings each year. And, sad to say, we were all having breakfast together here in the hotel when the NY towers were hit...large tv screen for the world to see...a sad thing for these vets who gave so much back there..but somehow, appropriate they would all be together as they watched this horror unfold, so sad for the greiving families in our country...

I write a newsletter for them with their escapades as they tell me their stories...I have several pages from these stories along with photos I want to put on a web site for them...some have access to computers, others have children very interested and I hope to have the material so they can print out the story of their grandfathers...all are heros...

I guess this is just to say thank you, also...for the work you are doing...I am a product of the WW2 era and the lives of the WW2 women are also interesting...

I was the Rosie the Riveter at 15 years old in California where I rode out there from Arkansas on the back of a cattle truck with a load of Arkies heading for the defense plants.... later I sold ice cream at Great Lakes Naval Station, the summer I was 16.

My biggest job was letter writing to over 50 service men, most of whom I never met...Mamas would say, write my boy...and I did... THEN the war was over and they were all coming to see me at once, all in love with my letters...leading them on, of course...Golly...I was begging and hiring all my girlfriends to tell them they were me...not wanting to hurt a service man... I still have many of these letters saved someplace here...always planning (even then) to write the WW2 novel...and only bits and pieces done so far.

From the Arkansas Ozarks where I was born, my mother had seven sisters who lived all over the nation and I went home to live with them and go to school each summer as they came to the mountain to visit...this was free board and room in all the big cities, never mind I had to ride the bus and walk to get there and back, at times asking a service man if I could be his wife long enough to get on the Greyhound bus...He says, "Why shore, darlin."

I graduated Deer High School on the mountain in Arkansas in 1945 and joined the Cadet Nurse Corps in Houston, Texas, working in the dime store to buy my nurses watch (the one thing you had to have) and the V-J Day happened...the nurse corps abolished...and I came home to become a secretary and marry a Navy Seaman...the rest, as they say, is history...

Please Visit:
Colleen's Place
Colleen's Frame & Art - New Orleans

Dear Colleen, Thank you again for another great article...not in a million years could you have imagined the event that unfolded on the tv screen at the reunion. A day that will not be forgotten...akin to recalling what we were doing when we heard of JFK being shot. The ring of irony too, when you wrote of the letter writing to service boys...how safe might such a campaign be today?

Memories of Newton County

I was born April 28, 1922 in Lily, Kentucky. My parents were Hugh Henderson Champlin and Mary Arlena (Bullins) Champlin. With all the whooping, hollering (some of which I’m sure I did), hand slapping and praising the Lord for the miracle of child birth, I wonder if anyone present had a clue that this was the first step of a long journey taking me many years and thousands of miles from that "old Kentucky home".

Toothless, barefoot, naked and penniless, I started on my journey. It eventually took me through Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Illinois, Indiana, New Jersey, Massachusetts, New York, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Kansas, Colorado, Montana, New Mexico, Texas, Arizona, California and Hawaii. During World War II I also visited North Ireland, France, Luxemburg, Belgium and Germany.

At the age of 14 months I lost my mother from some sort of heart failure. Doctors didn’t know as much about heart disorders as they do now. I was told she died of "heart dropsey". I can’t remember seeing my mother except in a dream which I’ll explain later. Even though I can’t remember her, I’ve always felt something was missing from my life and I think that missing part is due to the lack of love and tenderness that only a caring mother can provide for her small child. I recall being envious of other children my age when they were caressed and cared for by a concerned mother as I stood and watched. Only a person who has grown up without a mother can truly understand how lonely and insecure a child feels due to it’s mother’s absence.

Shortly after my mother passed away, my father married my mother’s only known remaining relative. Her sister Paralee Bullins. She had lived in our home for many years and helped care for my mother during her illness. I’m told that life was pretty smooth for our family for a while and then my father decided to migrate west. He loaded his new wife and three little boys into a covered wagon drawn by a team of mules named Pete and Maude. We all started the long trek from the coal mines of eastern Kentucky to the rock piles of northwest Arkansas. It’s been said that I took my first steps on the floor of that covered wagon while crossing the Mississippi River. I wonder if that is the only time in history that has happened. I think my two brothers Clyde, eleven and Brack, age 8 walked behind the wagon most of the way from Laurel County, Kentucky to Newton County, Arkansas. They were probably barefoot and throwing rocks at lizards and anything else that moved to break the boredom along the way. After several weeks on the rocky and muddy road that crossed the Cumberland Mountains of Tennessee and the swamps of the Arkansas Delta we entered the Ozark Mountains and went on to the Boston Mountains. We arrived at the home of cousins, Hiram and Betty Hodge in Red Star, Arkansas. The area at that time was ninety percent wilderness and sparsely populated with people who were about sixty percent illiterate.

We were well received by the Hodge family and we stayed at their home for several days while trying to find a home of our own. Everything went well for awhile. My Dad found a home for us to live in and work in the timber industry. Then tragedy struck our family again. Aunt Paralee and her baby girl died during child birth. They were buried in what is called "The K-Park Cemetery" located in the Cave Mountain region of Newton County in an unmarked grave. It put quite a burden on the rest of the family; especially Dad who had to take care of three small boys and work to support them. He had a rough life but refused to give up his children. It was said that he had opportunity to adopt us out. When I was about three and a half years old I dreamed that I would sneak out of bed and meet with my mother. I had the dream several nights. We had a strange but special meeting place. My mother was always sitting upright in a grave waiting for me to get there. We would talk for what seemed like hours before she would send me back to bed. One night we visited longer than usual and she told me "My dear son this will be the last visit we will have on earth. I am trusting God to watch over you and protect you until we meet again" Strangely, more than seventy years have passed and I have never had a single dream involving my mother since that night. I have never returned to the place where I dreamed we met but after all these years I think I could walk right to the spot with no trouble. Someday I may try it. Often I think I wouldn’t mind a rerun of those dreams.

My father contracted Malarial Fever and probably would have died but for some good people in Newton County who took him into their home and cared for him until he was back on his feet. The Hodge cousins took care of me and my two brothers during Dad’s illness. I became very fond of Betty while we stayed with them. She was very kind to me and her own five children. Believe it when I say a three year old motherless child will always remember acts of kindness received from a kind hearted person such as Betty Hodge. It seemed as if tragedy became a way of life for us. My father barely returned to work when our home burned down and destroyed everything we owned. Now that I’m older I think I can understand the sorrow and disgust that my Dad must have experienced after loosing two wives and a daughter to illness, almost dieing from the fever and then losing all he had in a fire except three little boys. None of us were old enough to take care of ourselves. I’ll always be grateful to my father for not putting us up for adoption. He was determined to keep us together and let us grow up knowing each other as brothers. I strongly believe the environment young children are surrounded by plays a big part in what their destiny will be.

After the fire, my father took a job with a lumber company and moved us into a lumber camp where I spent the next three years of my life. We lived in a one room tent. I didn’t mind, in fact, I enjoyed it because there were other kids in the camp and things went well while we were there. I have always been blessed with the ability to easily become acquainted with people and in most cases win their friendship. Being considered an orphan by many probably helped. When I was seven and a half all hell broke loose when my father decided to take another wife. I despised her from day one which was their wedding day. I’ll try to tell my side of the story as accurately as I can. They had the wedding and reception at the home of her father. A host of her relatives were there and as was customary in those days, the children had to wait until after the adults had been served then they could all gather around the table and feast on the leftovers. Toward the end of the meal I made a remark to one of the other children saying "My belly is full". Keep in mind, I was seven years old. The stepmother which I’d never seen before that day informed me that she didn’t tolerate talk like that at her table and that she’d straighten me out by teaching me some manners in the days ahead. Obviously it was pretty embarrassing for me in the presence of all the children who sniggered and giggled at me for getting "chewed out" by their Aunt Lou. She made it sound as if I’d committed a Cardinal sin and then my father informed me that I would do as I was told by my stepmother and that I would not sass or talk back to her. Little did they realize they planted a seed of rebellion that lived and grew from then on. Unfortunately this woman never understood children and very little of anything else. I never respected her.

I was frail as a child and bullies would push me around. I developed an inferiority complex. My first day at school two boys were picking on me while we walked to school. I was really scared but a boy two years older than I told me that I didn’t have to take that from them or anyone else. He said that if they tried it again he would make sure that they both wouldn’t get hold of me at the same time. He also said that if I put up with it, they’d run me out of school. On the way home that afternoon with my new friend watching, I not only whipped one but I took care of both of them. After that we got along pretty good and a few days later their cousin decided to try me with the same result. The boy who encouraged me became my lifelong friend. His name was Bill Reed. My inferiority diminished quickly. I’ll always be grateful to Bill. His council helped in all walks of my life as well as self defense.

Actually, my life has not always been miserable. Everyone walked to school in those days. One morning the first two boys I mentioned and I ran ahead of the other kids to where we knew a huge hornets nest hung on a tree limb. We began throwing rocks at it and by the time the rest of the students and the teacher got close to the nest, the hornets were raging mad and started stinging everything that moved. Eventually the hornets found the hiding place of myself and my two accomplices. We had to go to school the next day with our eyes and face swollen from stings and try to explain where we were when the hornets attacked the others. The school system practiced corporeal punishment back then. What do you suppose happened to our little fannies when the teacher got a couple of stings on her "not so little fanny". Another time things didn’t go exactly as I planned was when the county health department sent nurses to all the schools to give the community typhoid vaccinations. After the first shot I decided I’d had enough of needles and ran out the door, across the school yard and into the woods where I decided to hide until the nurses left. Unexpectedly, the big hand of the teacher that had been stung by the hornets picked me up and marched me right through the crowd to the front of the line where a brutal nurse stuck that big needle in my tender little arm in front of everyone.

When I was around eight I was quite the prankster. I liked my stepmother’s father a lot. He and I would play tricks on each other and got along really well. I saw him on his way to the outhouse one day and I ran to get there ahead of him. The bottom of the outhouse was open on the back side to allow for ventilation so I went around there to punch the old guy in the rear with a weed when he sat down. His laxative kicked in and I got sprayed all over my hand and arm. You could say the dirty joke was on me. One day I got too close to the goose’s nest and one of the ganders just about beat the pants off me. I declared war on the geese and with the help of my slingshot I laid a few of them to rest. My stepmother set some eggs under a chicken and after the chicks hatched I would go every couple of days and pinch two or three of their heads off. My stepmother almost beat the cat to death for killing her baby chicks. I really rebelled!

When young my older brother, Brack, got a kick out of teasing me about girls. During that time many girls and most of the women were involved in a trend called "making friendship quilts". Brack jumped at what he thought was a grand opportunity to tease me. He asked me when I was going to start getting up my "friendship quilt" so I said "Smarty, I just might do that". In the year 1936 at age fourteen I was probably the only boy who collected enough patterns with names and dates embroidered from the many people I had contacted to make a full size quilt. That quilt is sixty-five years old today and is like new except for slight aging and shelf wear. It is something I will always treasure for each time I read the names on each pattern peice it reminds me of a time when people showed kindness toward each other. I seldom see that today. I would like to include the names of my Friendship Quilt Participants. The first four names were entered by my step-mother. Some include the dates.

Hugh Champlin, Mrs. Elmo Robinson, Virginia Lee Curtis, Pearly Edgmon, Gracie Smith 1/6/1936

Clyde Champlin, Alice Ingram, Rosa Curtis 1/11/1938, Ardith Edgmon, Mrs. Centers

Brack Champlin, Florence Ingram, Marie Swafford, Lou Champlin, Opal Cowan, H.R. (Bill) Champlin, Gabrilla Ingram, Thelma Brison, Ida Robinson, Erma Lee Cowan

Wilma Hudson, Marie Ingram Cole Bill’s Quilt 1936, Lura Emma Robinson, Mary Watson

Linna Mae Sutherlan, Beulah Edgmon 1938, Letha Gibson 1/3/1936, Irvin Sandlin, Ethyleen Watson

Ester Sutherlan, Mollie Mc Hargue, Myrtle Gibson 1/3/1936, Laura Sandlin Thomas, Pearly Watson

Ruby Sutherlan, Pearl Hoskins, Gracie Swafford, Ivis Marion, Bessie L. Sparks

Elena Ruth Robinson, Ethel Boen, Lois Edgmon, Gussie Marion, Minnie Reed, Opal & Ralph Robinson, H.L. Curtis, Olie Lyons, Argie Cooksey, Linda Thomas

Kenneth & Edward Robinson, Edna Lois Curtis, Clara Edgmon, Ida Thomas, Daisy Thomas Swain, Ark (1st pattern made 1/2/1936)

Because of my stepmother, by the time I was fifteen, I lost most of the respect I’d had for my father. I wouldn’t stay home and had become immune to punishment. The more he punished, the more I rebelled. At the age of seventeen I lied about my age and joined the Civilian Conservation Corps. It was a welfare project sponsored by the federal government. They sent me to northern Minnesota first and then on to Yuma, Arizona. I never went home to live again. If I could start my life over, I would try to be more understanding and make life a little easier on my father and accept my stepmother more than I did. Several years later she died of breast cancer. After the initial shock of losing another wife, he seemed to have a load lifted off of him. Times were rough economically through the 20’s and 30’s but my father managed to raise the three of us and get us all through the eighth grade. That was quite an accomplishment in that area for those days.

After CCC camp I met Susie Viola Harris and we were married. We bought twelve acres from my father in law and tried farming. Then later we bought thirty acres with a house and a poultry barn from John January. Before our first child was born I went into the army and was sent to Europe. When I returned from Germany I landed in New York City where I was told I could pick up my war medals if I wanted to stay a few more days. After being away from Susie and not ever seeing my daughter, I chose to go straight home. When I arrived I met my equal in rebellion when I met my little "Virginia". We had a time trying to adjust to each other. I recall telling her to drink the rest of her milk and she promptly threw it in my face. We did adjust eventually and just in time for the other children to start coming. I got a job working at a lumber mill. We sold the farm after I came back from Europe and moved to Holiday, Kansas. I worked for a building contractor until he went out if business. Then we moved back to Parthenon, Arkansas where I attended Agricultural school compliments of the G.I. Bill. We bought an eighty acre farm from Susie’s uncle Arl Youngblood and tried our luck at farming. When that turned out to be "fruitless" after a couple of years we sold the farm to Susie’s brother Jessie Harris and moved to Bentonville, Arkansas. Work was scarce there so we moved to Kansas again. I did factory and warehouse work before taking a job with Santa Fe Railroad. After six years with the railroad and a few other odd jobs, I’d had my fill of Kansas and headed west.

On April 13, 1959 I put a quilt and a change of clothes into a 1950 Chevrolet and left for Oregon or Washington state with the total sum of thirteen dollars in my pocket. I stopped in Denver, Colorado and asked for a temporary job to finance the rest of my trip. Unexpectedly I was hired at the first place I applied and stayed for seventeen years without ever missing a paycheck until I had back surgery. We bought a newly built home in a suburb north of Denver called Thornton, Colorado and lived there for sixteen pretty good years while we finished raising our five children.

In 1977 we sold the house, I took early retirement and Susie and I moved to Humansville, Missouri where we established a small business and bought a small farm. We sold the business and farm in 1993 and moved to Cave City, Arkansas where we remain today. We still attend all the Decoration Day and Memorial Day gatherings in Newton County to enjoy old friends, family and memories of our childhood days.

Dear Bill, I was so happy to receive your story...momma has talked of you spending alot of time at their house, when her family (Leither and Daisy Edgmon) lived at Mossville, back in the 1930's...thank you for taking the time to share your memories...wonder if any of those who worked up a quilt block, ever knew how you would come to value the finished quilt...a record of so many folks from back then...your story is wonderful!

Civil War: Willis William Woodward

The military record, from the National Archives, was transcribed by Virginia Brown, ggg-granddaughter of Willis William Woodward. This has provided information leading to his place of death and ultimately providing an insight into the life of his family during the Civil War. Willis' daughter-in-law, Mary Snow, was trying to obtain a Civil War pension for her underage daughter, Willie, at the same time Willis was applying for his pension. Mary was the wife of his son, Wilson Willis. Wilson had enlisted in the Confederate and Union armies under his middle name. Willis and Wilson's Union files were somehow combined, causing much confusion for the Bureau of Pensions at the time of their applications. To this present day, the files have never been separated and causes confusion for researchers.

Willis, the son of Peter Woodward, was born January 10, 1807, in Rutherford County, North Carolina. Sometime before 1809, the family moved to Henderson County, Kentucky. By the early 1820's they had settled in Missouri in adjoining Wayne and Madison counties. On August 10, 1826, Willis married Elizabeth Reed, in Twelve Mile Township, Madison County. While here they had three children: Mahala, Rebecca, and Jordan. Wilson, their fourth, was born in Crawford County, Missouri. By 1838, the family had moved to Arkansas, where six more children were born: Mary, Lucinda, Eleanor, Sarah. Willis, and Jobe. They were in Union Township, Newton County, by 1850, the birth place of their three youngest children. Here, Willis served as Justice of Peace. While serving in this capacity, he performed the marriage ceremony for his daughter, Rebecca, and Warren Essex on February 24, 1853.

Willis favored the side of the Union during the Civil War and served for a short time. In an affidavit he gave for his son-in-law, William Dotson, on January 21, 1886, he stated, "I was a Union man and loyal to the United States Government and I was permitted to enter the Union Army lines for protection when I deemed it necessary." His two sons, Wilson Willis and Jordan Titus, enlisted in the Confederacy in different units. Wilson was living in Enola, Faulkner County, Arkansas, at the time of his enlistment. Both were taken prisoners and confined to Gratiot Street Prison in St. Louis, Missouri. Jordan was there for about two months and Wilson for about two weeks. Both were apparently paroled as part of a POW exchange. This prison was originally the McDowell Medical College, but during the war, it held Confederate POWs, civilian political prisoners, and Union deserters. Today the prison is gone and nothing remains. Its original location is now occupied by the headquarters of Ralston Purina. On January 1, 1864, six months after his release from prison, Wilson enlisted on the side of the Union in Company E, 2nd, Regiment Arkansas Infantry. On March 3, 1865, Willis, age 58, also enlisted in the same unit.

Bert Stark, Jr., a great-grandson of Jordan, wrote a small booklet entitled, "The Life of Jordan Titus Woodward (1833-1919)," and gave some information about the family during the war. When Jordan enlisted, he left his wife and children with his parents. During this time they suffered extreme hardships from bands of raiders and from war conditions. There were times when Willis, in his mid-fifties, had to hide in the woods to avoid being killed. According to a family story, one day Jayhawkers stopped at their farm and butchered their only hog that they had hoped to use for food during the winter. Elizabeth had a boil on her leg, so painful it was difficult to get around. To walk she had to support her knee on a straight-backed chair as she pushed it along. Even so, she was forced to cook the hog the raiders had killed. While the meat was cooking, the men searched the barn and found some corn Willis had hidden under hay in the loft. Some of the men shelled the corn, so it would be easier to carry. Elizabeth looked out the window and saw the men throwing the corn cobs at the children.

Dear Virginia, Thank you for sharing the above account...an example of the many, similar occurances of that time...

View Pension Application of Willis William Woodward

I invite all of you to visit the following pages, in honor of those who served...during times of war and times of peace:

Those Who Served®, Newton County, Arkansas

Those Who Served®, Madison County, Arkansas