Don B Snyder. Part 10: Cooper Tire

Don B Snyder

This is Part 10 of a 13-part blog series sharing my Grand-uncle Don’s life story, in his own words, via an autobiography sent to me by Don’s grandson, Ron Oldfield, after Ron stumbled across one of my prior posts about his grandfather. It is shared with the permission of both of Don’s children and Ron Oldfield. [Note – Anything in brackets with green type is my added explanation of something in Don’s text.]

Don’s story: 

Part 10: Cooper Tire

Cooper Tire Ad

After the war, I went back to the Cooper Tire Company where I already had eight years of service. I served as a tube splicer and later as a tire builder. My friend Harold Wise was president of the Union. He talked me into running as a secretary and I was elected. After Harold’s and my term were up we didn’t run again. His old rival had wanted to be president real bad and he got elected. Shortly after that, at a board meeting, he didn’t get his way on something so he wrote his resignation on paper and went home. He figured they would call him back and he would have his way. Not so, they didn’t. I got a phone call at 2:30 in the morning and they wanted me to take over the Union Presidency. I didn’t want to but they persisted and I finally gave in and said ok. There would be a special election in two months and figured I couldn’t do too much damage in that short time. When the election came they wanted me to run again. I said alright and ended up with no opposition. Surprisingly, I got an idea. The man I replaced had always been a thorn in the side of the union. I picked him out to be on the executive board and he accepted. Sometimes I asked his opinion and this pleased him. Now he couldn’t complain and I ran the show.

When I was secretary, the vice-president and I served on the job evaluation committee. The company had always wanted this and I did too. The two of us would meet with the treasurer and cost accountant. I had known the treasurer before and felt he was an honest man, which he was. I was not so sure about the other one, but he had little to say. Each job was rated on a point scale which determined how much the rate paid. Skilled jobs got more pay, also lesser jobs got points for dust, dirt, heat, and noise. Most of the 250 different jobs got a raise in pay. Tire building was the highest skilled of jobs. The bead wrappers (women) were making as much money as the tire builders, so they got a cut in wages. Boy, did I make enemies! The women were furious. I had appointed the machine shop steward to the executive board. He was a real nice guy and we got along just fine, but his wife was a bead wrapper and she never forgave me.

Aerial View of Cooper Tire - 1950s

We had never had a change in our contract with the company, so the first thing I did was to ask for a new contract. The company agreed and we both gained by it. Funny thing. I led the negotiations and wrapped it up. Before we signed it, my time was up and my chief steward, whom I supported to take my place, signed it first. It was my baby, but I had become his chief steward so I signed it second. He never had anything to do with it. The union had been established for six years. I was the only president to change the contract and it was a good one. As chief steward, I often got calls in the middle of the night and sometimes I had to go to the plant to settle things. My wife got fed up with this and wanted me to quit. I had thirteen years of seniority and as a union officer had top seniority in the plant. I finally gave in and quit. A year later during a lay-off I went back to the Cooper Tire Company once at 2:00 A.M. The president of the company walked by and I told him it was my last night as I was called back to Toledo. He tried to talk me out of it. I said “but I lost my seniority.” He said “yes, but you have longevity.” I was going to say ok, but I thought my wife would be mad, so I said no.

Other Related Posts (links):

52 Ancestors: #7 Don B. Snyder (1918-2012) 

Don Snyder's Fall 

A Treasure to Share

Don B Snyder. Part 1 – Riding The Rails 1, Growing Up

Don B Snyder. Part 2 – Athletic Shows

Don B Snyder. Part 3 – Civilian Conservation Corps

Don B Snyder. Part 4: Riding the Rails 2; Coming home

Don B Snyder, Part 5: Joining the Army

Don B Snyder, Part 6: The Pygmies of New Guinea

Don B Snyder, Part 7: The Japs

Don B Snyder. Part 8: Shot in the Leg 

Don B Snyder. Part 9: Army Boxing

Don B Snyder. Part 11: Barber  

Don B Snyder. Part 12:  Caving  

Don B Snyder. Part 13: Women

Don B Snyder, Part 8: Shot in the Leg

Don B Snyder
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This is Part 8 of a 13-part blog series sharing my Grand-uncle Don’s life story, in his own words, via an autobiography sent to me by Don’s grandson, Ron Oldfield, after Ron stumbled across one of my prior posts about his grandfather. It is shared with the permission of both of Don’s children and Ron Oldfield. [Note – Anything in brackets with green type is my added explanation of something in Don’s text.]

Don’s story: 

Part 8 – Shot in the Leg

I was shot and became a patient in an old schoolhouse on Bataan. The doctors there operated on my leg. They removed busted bones, tibula and fibula. This shortened my leg a little over an inch. They then put a big cast on up to my hip with a walking iron below. After a few days an ambulance came and took me to a field where a small plane was waiting. It held one stretcher as the left side of the plane was missing. I had my pack on my chest. Twice they put it under my stretcher. When I got to Manilla I found my pack missing. It contained everything I had: money, pictures, letters, souveniers, a Jap flag, etc. I didn’t know the outfit that put me on the plane so they got away with stealing it.

Bataan Hospital, after Battle of Corregidor,  WWII
By US Army - US Army via L. Morton, US Army in World War II: The War in the Pacific--The Fall of the Philippines,
page 382 (US Army Center for Military History, 1952) 

In Manilla the hospital was in a ball park. We had beds where the seats would be. Down on the field were a couple of good sized tents. Every once in a while a whistle would blow and guys would line up. I asked what the hell was going on. I was told that it was the romance ward. I asked what that was and was told it was all guys that got the clap.

Later I was flown to Leyte. In the hospital at Leyte in the Philippines, a hospital ship showed up and everyone was excited. Most all the guys left, I was too sick. One big guy had a back injury and he could walk. The big jerk came over and razzed me because I couldn’t go. They all left except a few of us. In the meantime I got better and was eating etc. One day a nurse and an officer stopped by my bed. She told him how sick I had been but was pretty good now. He looked at me and said “you can go.” I said “where?” and he replied “home.” I looked at him and said “you don’t mean fly, do you,” as I saw he had a set of wings on his blouse. He said, "yes." I could have cried I was so happy.

I do want to tell you about this in all sincerity. They flew me back on a hospital plane to San Francisco. At Moffett Field they put our stretchers on the tarmac. Silly, hardly. It just showed me how much I loved this country and was happy to be back here. In the hospital for five days before leaving for Nashville, the man in the next bed was really down in the dumps. His one leg had been cut off. One day a lady showed up, she tried to cheer him up to no avail. He said “That’s easy for you say, how would you like to be like this?” She said “I am,” then reached down and rapper her leg. She too had a leg off. She then told him he would be able to do most things he used to do. He said “even hunting?” She said “sure.” He was like a different man. Smiley and all that.

While we were recuperating in a ward we all got along just fine. On inspection one day the two officers went bunk to bunk checking out what we had etc. There was a nice guy next to me that had a thumb that wouldn’t bend. I heard the doctors commenting on what was wrong with it but they couldn’t agree. He left our ward the next day. I met him in the hall one time and he had a bandage on his hand. I asked him what it was and he said they didn’t know so they cut it off.

Hospital Plane

They flew us to Nashville, but we stopped for fuel in Amarillo, Texas. A major, patient, could walk. Seemed like a nice fellow, got off the plane to stretch his legs as a big fuel truck pulled up in front of the plane. I looked out the window and saw him walk under the wing forward. I couldn’t see much of the truck. Pretty soon I saw a commotion and an ambulance pull up. He had stumbled as the truck pulled up and it ran over his head. Of course it killed him and we went off without him.

I had bad connections at Lima and somehow I got a ride to the city limits. Cars would pass me slow, smile and wave and keep on going. “Gee,” I thought, “here I am in uniform with a big cast on, with ribbons and crutches and they wouldn’t pick me up.” I finally realized, gas rationing was on and they were only going a little ways. An army nurse stopped and took me to Findlay.

 

Don (left - had cast on leg) and his brothers: Paul (middle) and Clarence (right - my grandfather)

After I got back from furlough I was walking down the hall on crutches and I looked up and saw the guy with the bad back. He was really surprised to see me and said, “how did you get here?” I said “how did you?”, and he said “our boat just got in.” They had to go down under by the southern route because of the Jap subs. I told him I flew back and already had a 30 day furlough. I thought he turned green with shock.

Other Related Posts (links):

52 Ancestors: #7 Don B. Snyder (1918-2012) 

Don Snyder's Fall 

A Treasure to Share

Don B Snyder. Part 1 – Riding The Rails 1, Growing Up

Don B Snyder. Part 2 – Athletic Shows

Don B Snyder. Part 3 – Civilian Conservation Corps

Don B Snyder. Part 4: Riding the Rails 2; Coming home

Don B Snyder, Part 5: Joining the Army

Don B Snyder, Part 6: The Pygmies of New Guinea

Don B Snyder, Part 7: The Japs

Don B Snyder. Part 9: Army Boxing

Don B Snyder. Part 10: Cooper Tire

Don B Snyder. Part 11: Barber  

Don B Snyder. Part 12:  Caving  

Don B Snyder. Part 13: Women

Don B Snyder - Part 5: Joining the Army

Don B. Snyder
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This is Part 5 of a 13-part blog series sharing my Grand-uncle Don’s life story, in his own words, via an autobiography sent to me by Don’s grandson, Ron Oldfield, after Ron stumbled across one of my prior posts about his grandfather. It is shared with the permission of both of Don’s children and Ron Oldfield. [Note – Anything in brackets with green type is my added explanation of something in Don’s text.]

Don’s story:

Part 5 – Joining the Army

1940 Army Recruiting Poster
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I joined the National Guard in 1937. In 1940 we were inducted on active duty. Fortunately, I was promoted to platoon sergeant in charge of 50 men. We were sent to Camp Shelby at Hattiesburg, Mississippi. That was where we got our first draftees. They hadn’t had any training when they came, but they soon shaped up. I felt sorry for a couple I found crying, as it was so different than what they were used to. I took it easy with them and they got over it.

I transferred from Indiantown Gap, Pennsylvania to Fort Benning, Georgia [for a 3-month Officer’s Training course in March 1942]. They formed one new anti-tank platoon in battalion headquarters for the battalion. I was platoon sergeant of this unit. We later received four 37mm anti-tank guns and nine jeeps. Later, we got three 57mm guns, each weighing almost two tons, plus one jeep and three big 6x6 trucks. This was for hauling the men plus ammunition and supplies. We then transferred to Camp Carrabelle, Florida for amphibian training. That’s for landing on a hostile shore in boats. We lived in tents in a swampy area. Sometimes the water would come up under our cots so we had to keep everything on our beds. I liked the training. We went in smaller landing craft. They held about 30 men, or in our case about a squad: ten men plus an anti-tank gun. It was a pretty sight to see. There were about 10 landing craft in a wave, parallel to the shore going in circles. At a given time the craft would form a line facing the shore, spread out and heading for the shore. First, one wave followed by ten waves. It was not all fun and games. Nearing shore sometimes a craft would hit a sandbar and get stuck. Then the front would drop and the men would step out and wade to shore. If someone in a hole, with all our gear and guns we sometimes would step over his head while others would pull him out of it.

Crew of a 37mm anti-tank gun in training at Fort Benning, Georgia clean and adjust their weapon.

Office of War Information, Library of Congress

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Next, we went to Alexandria, Louisiana. My wife, Ardith, came to live with me in Mississippi, Pennsylvania, and Louisiana. It wasn’t easy for her, as there were so many soldiers’ wives there, but she was happy with it. Our son, Philip, was born in Findlay, Ohio [in 1943] and luckily I got a [10-day] furlough when in Louisiana and got home the night he was born. [Don was a Staff Sergeant when his son was born.]

  

In early 1943 I was selected to go to Hawaii on advance detail, for our company was moving there. We had thousands on board. I was eight decks down, two decks below the water line, with about 490 others in our hold. We zigzagged all the way 2500 miles to avoid Jap subs. Each day we were allowed on deck for one hour in the morning for air and the same in the afternoon. There were so many on deck you could hardly see the water. After a day I was going up the stairwell when a man on the side yelled “Snyder,” and pulled me out of line. He was a major officer. I said, “Sir, how did you know my name?” He said, “I’ve seen you fight (box) on the division team.” I was really surprised. The big wheel recognized me! It turned out he was from division headquarters and I had trained at the sports arena there every day for a while. I found out he was in charge of security on the ship. He then pulled out an “MP / Military Police” armband put it on my arm. I was shocked, as that meant that I could go anywhere on the ship at any time I wanted, and I sure used it. I felt sorry for the other guys, as they wondered what it was all about. A couple of years later I was a patient in a Nashville hospital going down the hall with my leg in a cast and on crutches when I heard someone call out my name “Snyder.” It was him again. We talked and he told me he had a bad stomach and had to come back. It was good to see him again.

Large detailed Japanese World War II physical map of Hawaii 1943 inside.
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In Hawaii, we were to guard the island of Oahu. I had a squad at the entrance to Pearl Harbor from the sea. I was there once and saw a submarine coming in. There were some on deck and I thought “man, I bet they could tell you some stories.” After the war, a customer told me he was on a sub that got into Tokyo Bay. The Japs raised the net at the entrance and followed the ship going in, underneath it. It was night and they didn’t see anything, so rather than do nothing, they shelled a fishery across the bay and followed another ship out. We lost a lot of subs in the war, and you usually didn’t know who or where. I shouldn’t talk about the war, but I read in a book that three different subs were lost leaving Perth, Australia at the westernmost tip. They just were never heard from. We had one or more subs away from the entrance. Sure enough, they found a Jap sub waiting for something to come out. They didn’t have to wait any longer as we sunk it. Getting off my story. I also had a squad in the village of Ewa on the north side of Pearl Harbor. They had it made, schoolhouse, swimming pool, etc. Then third squad was guarding a radar station upon the mountains. I went up there once, and while there, one of my men came and told me there was a Jap submarine going north underwater. We were high enough and the sun was shining down and sure enough there it was moving slowly. They had in recent days been seen around the northern part. I had heard that our subs stayed on the surface when around our islands. I sent a guy up to the radar station to call in about it so it could be sunk. They must have been asleep at the post as no planes came over. I think it was the same radar station that called in about planes coming in December 7. They called in and the man at headquarters thought it was American planes coming in from the states and did nothing.

I had heard that sometimes at one of the air bases there that sometimes they would let you fly with them. Sounded pretty good to me. I was at Schofield Barracks and got a ride to Wheeler Field Air Base. There, I spotted a major by his plane. I asked him if I could fly with him. He hesitated and I thought “O.K.” He finally said “I’m afraid not. We are leaving on a practice dive bombing raid on Maui,” and he was afraid I couldn’t stand the strain. I’ve seen some of these dive bombers in action and I thought he was right so I thanked him and left.

I forgot to mention, in our jungle training, a Lt. Instructor, nice guy, told off a guy for smoking around all of those demolitions. He said, “I’ve got a wife and two kids back home that I want to see.” I heard he was killed a couple of weeks later. Maybe so, maybe not, but I hardly believe anyone would make it up. In the jungle training course, we also learned judo and how to survive in the jungle if lost. It was very effective and prepared us for almost anything.

Jungle Training School, 1943, Hawaii (Dept of Defense, US Army)
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It was really pleasant in Hawaii. Every day neither too hot nor too cold. The ocean was warm and had nice waves to dive in. At times I would get a big 6x6 truck and take whoever wanted to go swimming. Once we went there and the waves looked 30 feet high and surely 20 feet. Probably from a storm out at sea. Down the coast, they didn’t look so high. The guys didn’t want to go in, but being stupid, I did. It was one of the most horrible times of my life. The water beat every spot on my body like a fire hose, ripped off my goggles, and I was fighting for my life. I was going up but didn’t think I’d make it as I had to breathe. Just then I hit the top of the wave, grabbed a couple of breaths and I went crashing down in the surf. It washed me way up on the beach. By the time I stood up the water was rushing back. I tried to walk away from the surf to go up on the beach but it was rushing back so fast and above my knees that I couldn’t move. They tried to form a chain hanging on to me but they couldn’t reach me. I was swept off my feet and into the big wave again. I was lucky again and got to the top. Surprisingly, I noticed as the wave rose, water on top went slowly back. I swam back with it. A cross-current took me down the beach where the waves were not so high and I made it to the shore all right. I’ve heard of cross-currents that have taken men out to sea and never seen again. Maybe down the line, it did but I was lucky in more ways than one.

Other Related Posts (links):

52 Ancestors: #7 Don B. Snyder (1918-2012) 

Don Snyder's Fall 

A Treasure to Share

Don B Snyder. Part 1 – Riding The Rails 1, Growing Up

Don B Snyder. Part 2 – Athletic Shows

Don B Snyder. Part 3 – Civilian Conservation Corps

Don B Snyder. Part 4: Riding the Rails 2; Coming home

Don B Snyder, Part 6: The Pygmies of New Guinea

Don B Snyder, Part 7: The Japs

Don B Snyder. Part 8: Shot in the Leg 

Don B Snyder. Part 9: Army Boxing

Don B Snyder. Part 10: Cooper Tire

Don B Snyder. Part 11: Barber  

Don B Snyder. Part 12:  Caving  

Don B Snyder. Part 13: Women

Don B Snyder - Part 4: Riding the Rails 2; Coming Home

Don B Snyder
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This is Part 4 of a 13-part blog series sharing my Grand-uncle Don’s life story, in his own words, via an autobiography sent to me by Don’s grandson, Ron Oldfield, after Ron stumbled across one of my prior posts about his grandfather. It is shared with the permission of both of Don’s children and Ron Oldfield. [Note – Anything in brackets with green type is my added explanation of something in Don’s text.]

Don’s story:

Part 4 - Riding the Rails II: Coming Home

[While home recovering from the foot injury gotten in the Athletic show (described in Part 2 of this series)], the truant officer came and wanted me to go back to school. I said I couldn’t. When it healed I joined the Civilian Conservation Corps. We didn’t goof off as one might think. We worked hard and were in excellent shape. I hate to tell this, but after three months a guy I knew said his father died and they wouldn’t let him go home. He knew I had experiences riding the rails and coaxed me to go home with him. I really didn’t want to, but then I thought “why not?” so I did.  That was a mistake. [Throughout the rest of the story he refers to his traveling companion as “Ick”.]

We were 250 miles from the nearest railroad, but we hitchhiked to it in one day. All that was there was a water tank and barren hills. As it was getting dark I thought we might have made a booboo. We finally heard a train whistle echoing in the hills and, sure enough, it came and stopped to take on water. There were no empty boxcars so we climbed into a gondola (coal car) about six feet high. To our surprise, there must have been a dozen people in it, including two women. We heard a brakey [railroad company brakeman] walking and kept quiet, but one guy made a noise and he heard it and climbed up. Instead of chewing us out, he said: “My god, you will freeze to death.” He then said, “follow me.” We did and he came across a boxcar with a tin seal on it. He broke the seal and told us to get in. We did and he was right. We would have been awful cold. We crossed the Great Salt Lake. All trains stop in the middle to take on water. It gave us all a chance to get out of the boxcar to get warm as the sun had come up, and it sure felt good. I’ll never forget, of the other people there was a couple of women with their husbands. One was a very pretty young lady, and I thought, “what a shame for her to be in that situation”. As I said before, times were very bad and when people tried to go away looking for work, it was about the only way they could travel.

Family Riding the Rails in the Great Depression. Public Domain.
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          The train took us to Ogden, Utah. There was a dairy there where we could get free buttermilk, which we did. Some rancher was there unloading milk and asked us if we could milk cows. Ick said “yes, we were raised on a farm,” the old liar. He offered us a job milking cows for $30 a month and board. It was on a ranch about 70 miles north of Ogden. I thought “yeah, probably some line shack in the wilderness,” so we said no. The train we came in on was the Western Pacific, so to get to Salt Lake City we had to catch the Union Pacific. They had a bull there that got a quarter for everyone he caught. Those he caught got 91 days on the rock pile, cheap labor. Anyways, we caught the train to Salt Lake City. No empties so we had to get on a tank car, standing on a wooden walk and hanging on a rail around the car. There also were three other guys on it. As we slowed down in the Salt Lake yards, I spotted the bull [railroad company security detective] up ahead. Before we got to him, we jumped off and headed up a street where there were some houses and the street was perpendicular to the railroad. I knew he couldn’t follow us on the street so I was not in any hurry. I glanced back and there he was about 15 feet behind me. I took off like a big ____ bird yelling at Ick to do the same. After going a block we looked back and no one was in sight. Ick said, “Let’s go up this street toward town.” I said, “No! He would know we wouldn’t go back in the country but towards town.” We did go straight ahead, crossed a highway and went up a hill so we could see what was going on. Sure enough, we could see him putting the three guys in a car.

          Whew, close one! We then had to walk north to south to get to the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad to get to Denver. Boy, that was a long walk from Salt Lake City. There at Provo, Utah we caught the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad to Denver. That was a nice ride after what we had been through. We were in a boxcar with about eight other guys. The weather was warm and the train at places went slow as we went up the Rocky Mountains. I remember one guy had a can and we came along a stream, crystal clear dashing down the mountain. The guy with the can jumped off and got some water. We pulled him back in the car. Then we all had a good drink. Another guy had some bread, a little hard, but we poured some water on it to soften it and another man had some sugar and we all had some. It tasted like cake to us.

Freight-hopping, National Archives Archeological Site [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
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          The train rolled slowly up the mountain. It finally stopped. There was a house nearby and I said, “let’s try to get something to eat.” I had hardly ever done this, but we would give it a try. I figured maybe a lot of fellows did this, but it was worth a try. A nice fellow came to the door and said no. We said “O.K.,” and [he] suddenly said, “Why not?” He, his wife, and two kids were at the table, just finishing supper. Just as we sat down the train whistled (gave the highball, meaning it was leaving). He laughed and gave us some bread and we ran to the train. It was already moving slowly. I held up my arms and the guys in the boxcar pulled me up and in. Ick was not so fortunate. He caught the hangers at the end of the car, crawled along a small rail at the bottom of the car and made it. I felt sure he would fall off. If he did I’d jump off too and we would have froze high in the mountains. Up ahead around the bend, we saw the train going into the Moffat Tunnel. It was the longest railroad tunnel in the country at six and a half miles long. We then slammed the doors shut as the coal burning engines let out a lot of smoke. One guy got claustrophobia and begged us to open the door a bit. We did and the smoke piled in. We slammed it shut. Later we did it again with the same results. The train was going real slow and we finally stopped. We opened it again and the smoke piled in. The guy got scared again. We slammed it shut and one guy explained the situation. Going up the grade we had one or two pushers on the back end. When it stopped we were right on top of the continental divide. There the pushers cut loose and went back. From then on we moved pretty good. When we entered the tunnel it was daylight. When we exited it was dark. [Experience it a bit: “a ride through the Moffat Tunnel, part 1”, YouTube video, HERE] There was a man in Toledo who was called ‘King of the Hoboes’. I’d seen his picture in the paper with articles. I met him downtown in Toledo and mentioned I used to ride the rails. He didn’t seem impressed. I asked him if he ever went through the Moffat Tunnel. He hesitated and then said “yes.” I asked, “inside or outside?” He hesitated again and said “outside.” I asked him if the smoke didn’t bother him. The old liar said, “I put a wet handkerchief over my mouth.” That was the end of our consultation. He died some years back, I think.

Benefits of construction of Moffat Tunnel,  Popular Science magazine, November 1922
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          Coming east out of Denver we had to catch a meat run. We did and found an empty reefer. It had six or eight guys in it. The next day I went on top to get some fresh air. After a while, I saw a guy crawl out of the other end of the car towards me. You had to crawl and hang on to the boardwalk, as the train was going so fast. He was an awful looking guy, bottom of the barrel. As he approached me and got 12 or 15 feet from me I said,“that’s far enough.” He wanted me to go into the other end with him. I knew what he wanted. I said no again. He hesitated and I had decided if he came close, I would do humanity a favor by kicking him off. I was strong and I knew I could do it. At 70 miles an hour, no one would have ever found him in that prairie country. Somehow he got the message and went back.

          After dark we crossed the Colorado and Nebraska line, stopping at a small town called McCook, Nebraska. A bull [railroad company security detective] or somebody called us out of the car. We walked on and by the time he had got us all off, Ick and I were out of the yards. I don’t think I mentioned it, this was the Burlington route from Denver to Chicago. I said, “Ick, let’s go around the yards and catch it leaving.” We did and watched as they searched the train. When they went back it took off fast and we had to catch it from the engine. About 50 miles down the line it stopped at another small town named Arapaho, Nebraska. It was pitch dark and you couldn’t see anything. I said “Ick, let’s go back,” as the steam engine was throwing off small pieces of slate that kind of stung us. I thought he heard me so I climbed down the ladder. Pitch dark, so I just stepped off knowing I would hit the stones. I didn’t, just floated through the air. It was on a bridge and I fell 30-40 feet on a few dead tree branches with my feet near the water. Ick had noticed me not being there and found we were on a bridge. He crawled along the track and the train took off. He yelled and luckily I had hit on my back. I could hardly answer him. He came down and found me. Asked me to move and I couldn’t. He said he would go for help. I didn’t think, but must have scared the dickens out of him as I said, “hurry, I don’t think I’m going to make it.” As he left I thought “here I am busted up in a deep ditch over a thousand miles from home, no money.” It wasn’t very encouraging. After about a half hour I heard voices. It was midnight on Saturday and the town dance had broken up. These small towns out there don’t have much excitement. I think everyone (kids) and others came out. Anyways, they found me. I had thought my lungs were punctured as I could only take short breaths. They tried to figure out a way to get me up this embankment. One guy said we could get the undertaker’s basket. I said, “no, I’ll be in that soon enough.” Then they said, “let’s try to carry him.” About eight guys picked me up and by stumbling and falling they got me up and to the hotel. There they woke up the town doctor and he examined me. Then he took x-rays and put a rubber pipe up my penis and it came out blood which showed I had an injured kidney. He did the same the next day and blood came out again. On the third day, it came out urine which showed it was healing. I was on a liquid diet the first three days with no food. On the fourth day, they said I could go downstairs to eat. I was so dizzy I almost passed out on the big winding stairs. All I had was a small bowl of soup and a few crackers. I felt better the next day and the doctor put tape from my chest center down to my waist as I had two rib fractures in front and two broken ribs in back, plus a chipped pelvis. Maybe more but he didn’t say. On the second day, two well-dressed men visited me. I think one was a lawyer from the railroad. He asked me a lot of questions about the accident and I leveled with him, as I had nothing to hide. One thing he nonchalantly asked was how I knew what train to catch. I told him someone in the yards in Denver told me. I signed his paper and he left. The next day I was shocked. He had brought the entire train crew to my room. He lined them up across the room. They were in their train clothes, holding their hats looking scared to death. Then he asked me to point out the man that told me what train to catch. I looked at them and said it wasn’t any one of them. Boy, you couldn’t buy a job then in the 1935 depression. Funny thing is it was a yardman that told me. Also, that was not the train we left Denver on. About an hour later we had pulled onto a side switch and stopped. Soon another train was passing us going the same way fairly slow. I said, “Ick, that train is faster than this one so let’s cross over to it.” Sort of dangerous as there isn’t much space between them, but we did it. That was the train I fell from.

"CCC Boy Injured in Fall from RR Bridge" & "Card of Thanks"
 Public Mirror, June 18, 1936 (Arapahoe, NE), used with permission
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On the sixth day, we thanked everyone for being so kind to us. The marshal gave me a notation of my injuries, which I never used. That was 67 years ago and I still have it. We traveled all day hitchhiking across Nebraska to Omaha. To cross the Missouri River it cost ten cents apiece, which was all the money we had. We tried to talk the toll man out of it, but the bum said no and took our last 20 cents. We crossed the river to Council Bluffs, Iowa. It was around midnight and started to rain. Where to go? I said, “let’s go to the city jail, where we can sleep till morning.” Back then people would often do that to get out of the bad weather. Now! Where was the jail? We came across a cop and he told us where it was. It wasn’t too far away and we finally got there. We checked in at the front desk, but I didn’t tell them of my injuries. They took us to a room that had three steel cots over each other with no blankets. Some guy was sleeping on the lower bunk, but I’ll bet not for long. Ick said, “you take the middle one.” I tried, but couldn’t do it. He helped me and I finally got in it. It turned out to be one of the most miserable nights in my life. It was just hard steel and every way I turned it hurt bad and I moaned and groaned. We left Council Bluffs and got to Iowa City. Passing a house at the edge of town, we saw a guy on his front porch. He said hi. We could hear the radio and it was Joe Louis fighting, against James Braddock I think. He said come onto the porch and listen if we wanted to. We did and I think he gave us something to eat, then said we could sleep on his front porch as it was getting late. We thanked him again and took off in the morning.

Hitchhiking 1938. Napa Valley, California. Farm Security Administration
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In Davenport, Iowa we were walking down the street and a woman passed us going the other way. She stopped, turned around and asked, “are you hungry?” Ick said,“yes, we hadn’t ate for three days.” She took us to her place and we ate along with her husband and two kids. Those depression days were bad, but a lot of people had compassion.

One thing that surprised me, we had split up, since it was easier for one person to get a ride rather than two. I had him get in front so he would get a ride first. We didn’t arrange a meeting, as one of us might get a long ride. Later on, I got a ride to the Mississippi River. It was a long bridge and only a few walking it. I looked up ahead and saw a guy with his jacket over his left shoulder and a funny lope as he walked. Ick. It had to be him and it was. We got to Fort Wayne and it was dark. He wanted to hitch, but I didn’t, so we split up again. I slept in a junkyard and the next day I caught a freight on the Nickleplate Railroad to Fostoria, Ohio, and then a train to Findlay right by my house. They were surprised to see me. Ick had called them when he left me in Fort Wayne and said I was in a hospital and might not make it. What a mix-up. Later I sort of wondered why no one bothered to reply. It was later on that I found out he had lied. His father was alive and well and working at the Cooper Tire Company. I later worked at the Cooper, too, and I knew him and liked him. Ick became a tinsmith and one time I stopped at his house next to Wright Field at Dayton, Ohio. He seemed quite successful as he had a nice house, some thoroughbred horses and about five or six businesses next door that he rented out. The family embarrassed me by saying I was some sort of legend. He died some years back.

Other Related Posts (links):

52 Ancestors: #7 Don B. Snyder (1918-2012) 

Don Snyder's Fall 

A Treasure to Share

Don B Snyder. Part 1 – Riding The Rails 1, Growing Up

Don B Snyder. Part 2 – Athletic Shows

Don B Snyder. Part 3 – Civilian Conservation Corps

Don B Snyder, Part 5: Joining the Army

Don B Snyder, Part 6: The Pygmies of New Guinea

Don B Snyder, Part 7: The Japs

Don B Snyder. Part 8: Shot in the Leg 

Don B Snyder. Part 9: Army Boxing

Don B Snyder. Part 10: Cooper Tire

Don B Snyder. Part 11: Barber  

Don B Snyder. Part 12:  Caving  

Don B Snyder. Part 13: Women