3. Southward to Texas

Thursday, February 19, 1942

I have received my orders and I am to report for basic training at Camp Wolters, located four miles east of Mineral Wells, Texas, located just west of the Dallas-Forth Worth area. I will travel there by train with thousands of other inductees.

We depart from Fort Snelling, Minnesota, on this cold winter afternoon at 4:30 p.m.


Inductees boarding a military train at Fort Snelling (left) during the winter of 1942 [courtesy www.mnhs.org]. A military train loaded with inductees bound for basic training during the winter of 1942 (right) [public domain].



Post card of the Minneapolis American Legion Club sent to my mother: "On train. Thur. February 19th. Time: 5:20 P.M. 50 minutes out of Ft. Snelling. Headed for Texas, Inf. Replacement Center, Camp Wolters. Howard"



Friday, February 20, 1942

Post card of the Washington Monument at Union Station Plaza in Kansas City, Missouri, sent to my mother: "At eleven in forenoon. We are in rail road yards at Kan. City, Missouri. We will pick up 6 more cars of soldiers here. Jim Larson and Herb Oldenburg are on this train but they are going to Camp Barkley [Texas] to be in medical corps. The rest of us are going to Camp WOLTERS near Mineral Wells and Ft. Worth. You might as well keep my National Ben. Society insurance paid up. Saw Ray Corbett in Ft. Snelling. Howard"



Post card of the terminal building at the Kansas City airport sent to my mother: "Feb. 20th. Time: 3:45 P.M. Somewhere in Oklahoma. We have just crossed the line from Kan. into Oklahoma. There is still little spots of snow here and there and little patches of ice in shady places. Remember I am Prvt. Howard W. Branstner when you write. I will give you my correct address later. I hope you got my letter with the insurance papers in. I wish I had a map so I could see where I am at. This makes 4 cards I have sent today. Howard. Later -- I'll mail this in Tulsa."

Fort Snelling to Camp Wolters is 1,016 miles by train. The trip took approximately 38 hours, including stops at Kansas City and Tulsa [courtesy: www.maps.com].

2. A Trip to Fort Snelling

Thursday, January 29, 1942
Just 53 days after the bombs fell on Pearl Harbor, I received a letter in the mail. Inside the envelope was an ordinary piece of blue paper measuring 8 inches wide, 10.5 inches long. It was dated January 26, 1942 (a Monday) and the "Stamp of the Local Board," located in Fergus Falls, Minnesota, was dated January 29, 1942. The letter was quick and to the point. It read as follows:

NOTICE OF SELECTION

To Howard Wesley Branstner. Order No. 2016
Having been found physically qualified for general military service by Army authorities, you have been selected for training and service under the Selective Training and Service Act of 1940.
You will receive an Order to Report for Induction -- such induction to take place on or about February 1942.
This notice is given you in advance for your convenience, and is not an order to report. If you are employed, you should advise your employer of this notice. The Order to Report for Induction will specify a definite time and place for you to report.
{signed} V.C. Jensen, Member of Local Board

The original copy of the letter that changed my life.

Thursday, February 12, 1942
I am inducted into the Army at Fort Snelling, St. Paul, Minnesota.

A post card I sent to my parents. I ate here at The Covered Wagon, "Home of Properly Aged Sizzling Steaks," located at 114 South 4th Street, Minneapolis, Minnesota, before reporting to Fort Snelling.

Draft inductees going through their physical screening at Fort Snelling. I went through this exact same process, perhaps by these same fellows. [Image courtesy of www.mnhs.org]

Private Howard W. Branstner, pictures taken at Fort Snelling, Minnesota, February 1942. You can see the snow on my shoulder in the picture to the left. The fellow with me in the lower right is Jim Larson.




Fort Snelling as it appears today.

1. "I Knew It Was Bad"

Hewitt, Minnesota was a bustling small town in 1941. The people here had survived the Great Depression, and businesses were thriving once again. Even though there was a war ravaging Europe, things didn’t seem so bad in this modest farming community in west-central Minnesota.

Oak Valley Township is a rural agricultural area, found four miles west of Hewitt. The people here are honest and hardworking, and in 1941, almost all were family farmers.

Courtesy: Geology.com

On Saturdays, these farming families would travel to Hewitt to replenish supplies, catch up on the latest news over a cold beer, and maybe even kick up their heels at a local barn dance. On the Sabbath, and it was customary to have a large Sunday dinner with family, friends and neighbors; but come Monday, the hard work started once again.

In 1941, Howard Branstner was a strapping 26 year-old bachelor, living on his family farm in Oak Valley Township. He had piercing blue eyes, stood six feet tall, and weighed a solid 167 pounds. Having completed the tenth grade, he was considered well-educated for a farmer.

Howard Branstner before the war.

It is evident, however, that Howard was not content to be a farmer his entire life.

Four years earlier, on February 6, 1937, a 22 year-old Howard paid for a correspondence course from the National Radio Institute, based in Washington, D.C.

Howard's receipt for his correspondence course from the National Radio Institute.

It took him three years, but on April 9, 1940, Howard graduated from the National Radio Institute as an authorized “Radiotrician and Teletrician, Specializing in Advanced Radio Servicing and Merchandising.”

Howard's diploma from the National Radio Institute.

Clearly, Howard was making plans for the future. But one day in early December 1941, all of those plans changed. News of a Japanese surprise attack on a little-known naval base crackled and hissed over the radio airwaves some time in the afternoon, perhaps just as the Branstner family finished their Sunday dinner.

Years later, when asked of his thoughts after learning that Pearl Harbor had been attacked, Howard simply said, “I thought, ‘Boy, here we go.’ I knew it was bad.”

The next day, December 8, 1941, a shocked and angry nation listened to President Roosevelt's radio address:



Like so many other young men of his generation, Howard knew his life would never be the same.