Ross Shirley - World War II History

Prior to the United States entering the war with Japan in World War II, Ross was working for Lockheed Aircraft in California, assembling P-38 airplanes. He had been trying to get a commission as an officer in one of the several branches of the military. When Pearl Harbor was attacked he went to the enlistment center again. The lines to sign up went around the block. They told him they wanted him to work on an aircraft carrier, but he said he wanted a higher rank. They told him that most anyone would jump at that their offer, but Dad held out. He was later given the commission he wanted.

He went through basic training and was stationed in New Orleans. They did not have sufficient barracks, so they gave a bunch of the enlisted men rooms on the second floor on Bourbon Street. He was then sent to the South Pacific.

Ross did not have a pretentious bone in his body. He was Chief Engineer on an ocean-going tug, which meant work was not easy. He let the crew know that he did not go for all the saluting and the use of “sir.” He told them, “We have too much work to do for all that nonsense.” One day while working on some machinery he dropped a wrench and reached down to pick it up. One of the crew said, “I could have picked that up for you, Chief.” Ross told them he could do it himself and to not worry about that kind of thing when there is so much work to be done.

Ross loved boxing. He would go down below and box with the enlisted men. One of the other officers told him that he did not think it was proper for an officer to be boxing and otherwise associating with the enlisted men. He said he would never box with the common sailors. Ross said, “Well, if you don’t know how to box, then you shouldn’t.”

One day, while anchored in harbor, sailors from another ship wanted to have a friendly boxing match. Dad’s ship accepted. One of their men had done some professional boxing and they thought it was a great opportunity to wager some odds. Ross accepted the opportunity. As they were putting on the gloves the man said, “Now, you know I’ve boxed professionally.” Dad said, “Don’t hold back on my account.” The match began badly for Dad’s opponent. It was soon obvious who was winning. Dad moved in for the knock-out but the match was stopped. One of the crew members named Yablonski was a huge man who didn’t say much. But when asked about the fight, he said, “The Chief nearly killed him.”

Dad always used to say, "Hurry up and wait." He learned that from being in the military. There were times when they had to sit and just wait. Soldiers were innovative in coming up with solutions for boredom, such as fishing and ocassional water skiing. Here Ross is seen enjoying both.

They were pulling some cargo from Manila in a convoy and having a hard time keeping up with the destroyers. Radio silence prohibited direct communication. Only light signals were flashed telling them to go faster. They were going as fast as they could. Finally one of the destroyers circled around and came up beside, bumping into the smaller tug and causing some damage. They yelled at those in the tug telling them to keep up, that Japanese submarines were in the area, then hurried back into formation. Night fell. The next morning those in the tug awoke to find themselves all alone with no way of defending themselves. They hoped they were not a worthy target for Japanese subs. Dad scanned the horizon with binoculars. Every now and then they would see the mast of a ship and simply hope it was “one of ours.”

Ross was stationed on one of the islands and had received a short “leave.” He was to go to the airport and catch a ride on one of the planes. He knew how the military operated, so he went into a store and bought a six-pack of beer. He walked into the hanger at the airport and presented his papers. The “fly-boys” were not impressed when he presented his orders. Then Ross placed the liquid refreshments on the desk and asked if that would help. The greased wheels began to turn much more rapidly. Ross soon found himself on a troop transport plane high above the Pacific. He saw the pilot slide open a small window in the side of the cockpit. Through the portal he held one of the beer bottles by the neck, allowing the cold high-altitude air to chill the brew. Welcome to the friendly skies.

Ross was in harbor when he saw a small ship pulling a huge barge out into the ocean. He radioed to see what they were carrying. A friend of his said they had a load of Japanese rifles that they were going to dump into the ocean. Dad asked him to snag him one, which he kept as a souvenir. I remember very well holding that long rifle and wondering how it might have been used.

While waiting in harbor, a cable had become looped around the propeller. They radioed for help, but it did not come. Finally Ross devised a plan. They improvised an air compressor to pump air allowing a diver to check out the damage. The report was that they were hopelessly entangled. Dad put on the mask and went down himself. He found that if he put his foot against the shaft of the propeller he could push with his shoulder and get some leverage. He soon had the cable free and the ship was on its way.

Enlisted men were given a ration of cigarettes. Ross did not smoke, but he stashed them away in his locker. When they were on long assignments and the stogies were not replenished, they became very valuable. Ross made a lot of money from those who had to have a smoke. One of the men complained that equal quantities of cigarettes were given to those who did not smoke. Dad told him to shut up, that no one had to smoke if they didn’t want to.

One day some of the men were talking about Mormons. One of them thought he was an expert and proceeded to expound. He was wrong and misinformed on many things. Dad had not said anything about religion up to this point. Finally, he interrupted and said, “You wouldn’t know a Mormon if you were standing right in front of one.” There was a slight pause, “You mean to tell me you are a Mormon! I can’t believe it. You can’t be a Mormon, you’re a regular guy. Wow, the Chief is a Mormon!” Dad told me that up to that moment he had wondered if he really had a testimony about the church. After that he thought, “I guess I really do have a testimony.”

Ross was never in any actual combat. He remembered hearing rumors about some kind of super weapon that would soon end the war. No one looked forward to a land invasion on Japan. After Nagasaki and Hiroshima were bombed he was stationed in Japan and witnessed the devastation. Years later I asked Dad if he was a hero. He just looked at me and said, “The real heroes are the ones who gave it all and didn’t come back.”

Autobiography of Ross Shirley

The following was taken from Ross' genealogy book. I was not aware that he had taken so much time to write his history. I tried to leave as much of the original grammar in the same way he wrote it. This is a great opportunity to hear his story they way he actually told it:

I, Ross Shirley, was born at our home in Salem on June 25, 1912. Dr. Shupe came down from Sugar City in a horse and buggy and delivered a baby boy to James Frederick Shirley and Sarah Francis Virgin Shirley. That’s when I came into the picture. I was the 8th of eleven children. We grew up in a five-room frame house in Salem, Madison County, Idaho. Population of Salem – about 200 people.

I was given a blessing in the old Salem chapel by George Inman, On August 4, 1912. I was baptized a member of the church in the irrigation canal that ran by the front of our home by Peter Mortensen. He baptized his son, Floyd, and me the same day since we were close neighbors and were born just a few hours apart. Christian Mortensen confirmed me in July 1920 and I was ordained a Deacon by George Hogge. I was ordained a Priest in 1931 and an Elder by David Archibald on May 22, 1932. I was President of the Elders Quorum from 1937 to 1939. I was ordained a Seventy by Milton R. Hunter on May 15, 1949.

I was ordained a High Priest by Edward S. Covington on February 11, 1968. Was High Priest Group Leader in Wilford Ward, St. Anthony Stake from 1979 to 1983.

My earliest recollections were when I was about five or six years old. At that time we ran a dry-farm east of Dubois, Idaho. Water was hauled from Camas Creek in a tank mounted on a wagon. The water was pumped by hand into the tank then hauled eight to ten miles to the ranch and allowed to drain into a cement cistern for culinary purposes. Also, to water the livestock. Periodically the cistern had to be thoroughly drained and cleaned. I was often lowered to the bottom by a rope and assisted in bailing out athe last few gallons of water which often contained a few grasshoppers and stink bugs.

We also had a ranch in Kilgore where we pastured cattle and put up hay. I remember wading in the ice-cold creek that ran nearby. It was there that I was the first to come down with “mump’s.” That fall I came home to Salem and I started my first year of school at Sugar City. When we were farming at Dubois, Dad bought our first automobile – a Model T. Ford. I remember getting stuck in the sand with it on our way across the desert north west of St. Anthony.

My health, as a rule, was pretty good when I was growing up. As I said before, I got the mumps when I was about six and nearly the whole family got the “flu” when that epidemic came around. We were nearly all seriously ill but all survived. Rod was the only one that didn’t come down with it. My most serious accident happened when I was about 12 years old. Rod and I were running across a cattle guard on the railroad track in Salem. They were the open type with ties about 10 inches apart. My foot slipped through and I fell forward tearing the ligaments loose in the back of my leg. Other than having my tonsils taken out when I was about 14 I didn’t see much of hospitals until I was well into my fifties. It was then that I had stomach ulcers and had the lower part of my stomach removed. About ten years later, I had an operation for a prostate condition and a year later had to have a kidney stone removed. My latest visit to the hospital, 1984, was to have some excess cartilage and bone removed from my right shoulder. Now, three months later, it is much improved.

Religion always played an important part in our home as we were growing up. Mother always saw to it that we attended church regularly, and it was through the faith and prayers of my parents that we all pulled through the “flu” epidemic without losing anyone. (Pictures at left provided by Aunt Myrtle from her journal).

Economic conditions were real bad when we were growing up. Father died in 1924 and Mother still had eight or nine children living at home – in ages from about 8 to the low twenties. We all worked on the farm which Leo took over and managed to eke out a living. The worst part came in late twenties when the depression struck. I was a senior in high school at Sugar City at that time and I remember the day the Sugar City Bank closed it’s doors. This was a serious blow to me as all the student body funds were in the bank which meant that all of our student activities were seriously hampered – including no year book. That was the one year that I really wanted one as I was student body president, captain of the football team and co-=captain of the basketball team.

We had about a dozen milk cows that kept us busy. Rod and I would get up in the morning, do the milking and feeding, then go to school and come home at night and do the same thing over. It was a tough way to make a living but that was about all that kept us going. Jobs were hard to find during the summer and if we did find one, it only paid one dollar a day. When I graduated from Ricks College, my first teaching job, in Teton Basin, paid $75.00 per month. The next year I got a teaching job at Sugar City that paid $90.00 per month and I didn’t have to pay rent and board. This was a considerable improvement. In fact, Bonnie and I traded in our old model A Ford for a brand new Ford V-8 which cost $750.00 – right off the show-room floor.

It was about this time that Leslie was called on a mission to Florida, so Bonne, Sallie, and I did what we could to keep him out there – as we were the only ones still at home who had a job. Then after he got back Rodney was called to a mission in England. So – Sallie and I each sent him about $35 per month. I don’t know how he managed on that amount but that was about it.

Things went on like that until 1939 when I heard of some job opportunities in the air-craft plants in California. So I went to Los Angeles and found a job with Lockheed – building P-38’s. This was a little more interesting than teaching school and the pay was much better. The P-38 was the pursuit plane that had two booms extending from the wings to the tail section. These booms were the part we built in our section of the plant. We got so we could put all the parts in a jig and complete it in one 8 hour shift. In fact, we got so far ahead that they sent some of us to another part of the plant to help them catch up. After I had been working at Lockheed for a year or so, the Japs attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. The whole city of Los Angeles and near by towns was blacked out and we all expected air attacks on L.A., especially the aircraft plants. But nothing materialized.

The attack on Pearl Harbor really stirred everyone up. So – a lot of the younger plant workers were going down to the Post Office Building in Los Angeles and signing up with the Navy which was offering some pretty good ratings to any0one with special skills – such as air-craft mechanics, etc. So I went down to see what they had to offer. The best they would offer me was Seaman 2nd Class and I said “Make that 1st Class and I sign on the dotted line.” The recruiter said he couldn’t do any better at the time. So, I said “When you can, let me know,” and went back to Lockheed.

A few months later, 1942, I went to Pocatello, Idaho with Otto Jorgensen a nd took some tests to see if they would accept me in the air-corp to train to be a pilot. We both passed the test and signed up. However, they said all of the schools were filled at that time and to go home until they called us. Well, I went home and waited but nothing happened. So I went to Ogden, Utah and got a job in construction work at Clearfield and Hill Field. After about a year, I finally decided I had waited long enough so I wrote the Air Force and told them I either wanted “in-0or-out.” So they said they had all the pilots they needed so I got out. I then joined the Merchant Marine and took three months training at Catalina Island, California. And upon graduation, they took the two from each class and sent us to an officers school in Florida. After graduation from St. Petersburg, they sent me to New Orleans, Louisiana for more training. Here we took boat training on Lake Ponchartrain and also on the Mississippi River. One time we sailed down the Mississippi – out into the ocean and to Florida. When we got back the word got around that the army T. Corp would offer us a commissi8on to come work for them. So a lot of us accepted and we became army 2nd lieutenants and were sent to Fort Gordon Johnson for further training.

Finally, we were sent to the P.O.E. in San Francisco, California and landed in New Guinea. After joining a large convoy we headed for the Philippines and landed at Tacloban, Layte. This was a month or so after the initial landing so things were still a little unsettled. We often had air raids and had to head for the fox holes but outside of a few bombs nothing much exciting happened.

After being ashore for a week or so we were assigned to our first shp – an army rescue tug. With this, we were to go out with convoys and in case of enemy attack we were to tow in any disabled or wrecked ships. Our first trip was from the Philippines to New Guinea. We had trouble keeping up and the convoy commander must have finally decided after a few days that we were too slow so just pulled away and left us. It was then that I hoped the Jap subs wouldn’t find us or we would have been sitting ducks. However, we finally made it and the army decided that we were better qualified for towing barges than rescuing people so we towed barges between New Guinea and various islands in the Philippines for a long time – 7 round trips, in fact. We also made numerous short runs and finally towed a floating machine shop from Manila to Okinawa and on up to Japan.

It was in Japan that we put our ship, a 143 foot tug, in dry dock and had some repairs made. It was in the spring of 1945. The cherry blossoms were out and the country was really beautiful. However, the outskirts of Tokyo and Yokohama were a shambles of burned out buildings. Nothing much left but smoke-stacks and rusting metal. After three months here we sailed back to the Philippines and waited our turn to come home. In August 1946, I boarded a Victory Ship in Manila and after sixteen days, landed in San Francisco. Sally and Howard were there to meet me. However, I had to travel to Ft. Lewis, Washington to get my discharge 16 Sept. 1946.

When I got home I took a trip to Ogden, Utah, to see a girl that I had met on a blind date just before I went overseas. After a brief courtship, I decided she was the one for me and we were married in the Logan Temple on 14 May 1947. After our honeymoon in California we remodeled the old Tom Dalling home and settled down in Salem, Idaho. There we raised four children, three boys and a girl – in that order.

As the kids were growing up, we always saw to it that everyone went to church on Sunday and Marge always took them to Primary as she worked in that organizat65ion for many years. This gave the kids a good understanding of the Gospel and aroused an interest for all the boys to go on a mission. Neal and Dale went to Brazil and Scott to Guatemala and El Salvador. After getting back from the service I went into construction work with Fred, Rod, and Fred’s boys. For a long time we did the lion’s share of the building in Rexburg. Besides the framing and finish work, Rod and I did the brick-laying. So when we started a house, we did about everything but the plumbing and electrical work and the painting. (Family photo left to right front, Janet, Scott, 2nd Neal, Dale, Ross, Marge, about 1959).

We always kept quite busy in construction work but quite often found time to do a little fishing. Our favorite spot was Staley’s Springs on Henry’s Lake. When we first started to fish there in the 30’s and 40’s, the fishing was fabulous. There were many cut-throats and rainbows that averaged 3 to 4 pounds. Once in a while we would hook onto a tackle-buster like 8-10 pounds. Rod caught one that weighed 16 lbs. And the limit was 15 lbs and a fish. So we always came home with a good supply of fish. I remodeled an old refrigerator and made a smoker out of it. Some people used to say that Henry’s Lake fish were too mossy and not good to eat, but everyone seemed to like them when they came out of that smoker.

Hunting has always been a favorite sport of mine. Some of the most fun trips were when we used to hunt antelope out on Birch Creek. When we first started to hunt them, not many people applied for a permit so nearly every fall one or two of us were lucky enough to get a permit and away we’d go.

The antelope weren’t too good to eat but it was great sport to chase them around and finally get into position for a good shot. I still get a charge out of hunting deer and elk and go somewhere every fall. My problem is – I-m always going with young fellows that like to climb the high peaks after the big bucks. Pretty soon I’m going to have to stop that.

During the summer of 1960 I was working with the other Shirley boys on the new library at Ricks College and I was offered a job as building inspector for the college on the new Science building. This looked like a pretty good deal so I went to work for them. After that building was completed, I worked for them steady as a maintenance foreman in charge of carpentry and painting. This I did for several years and then transferred into the Security Depart. This was real interesting work and I stayed there until I retired in 1977.

It was as a police officer at the College that I became quite interested in pistol shooting and went to several shoots each year throughout the state and Montana, where I picked up a few trophies. Even now that I am retired, I’m still an active participant. The eyes are not quite so good but I can still out-shoot most of these young bucks. Otherwise, I quit going.

It was quite interesting to work at the same college that I had attended as a boy and see all the changes that were taking place. When I went to Ricks in 1933-35, there were only two buildings. When I started to work at Ricks there were three buildings and I watched it grow to its present size. After I retired from Ricks, they asked me to come back and supervise the construction of the new stadium. This I accepted and it was a pleasure to watch the new building go up and get paid for it. It reminded me of when I used to play football for Ricks. We had no stadium, no bleachers, or anything along that line. But we still won the championship and the right to go to the Hawaiian Islands. That was the first and probably the last time Ricks has sent a team to the Islands and I was real lucky to come along at the right time.

Just before I retired from work at Ricks College, the Teton Dam burst on the 5th of June 1976. Marge and I had gone to Salt Lake City, Utah to bless our new grandson, Christopher. Just afternoon on Saturday, we got a call from Neal stating that the dam had burst. We watched the news come in on television and expected the worst because they said hundreds of people had lost their lives. After church services the next day, we headed home. Dale, Janene and two of their friends came up with us to help. We couldn’t come directly home because of blockades and washed out bridges so we had to detour up through Lava, Palisades, Victor, Driggs, and almost to Ashton, then back to St. Anthony. (Photo view from northwest corner of lot looking southeast, just after June 5, 1976).

We spent that night at Neal’s home and went down the next morning to see what was left of the old homestead. The approaches to the bridge on the Teton River were washed out and filled with running water but the bridge was still there. So we waded to the bridge, climbed upon it and then waded a quarter mile or so to higher ground. The house was full of gooy muck and the basement full of water. Everything on the first level was ruined. The steel building had the east side caved in and the big door on the west was torn away. Many stored items had been washed away. The new Ford pick-up and Bronco had been flooded as well as the snow machine, snow blower, lawn mower, etc., just to mention a few major items.

We all pitched in and salvaged what we could but many of the salvaged items were ruined later because there was no place to store things out of the weather. The mice also played havoc with clothing and other items before we got our new house built. The next spring we had things pretty well squared away with the government and started construction on our new home. I did most of the work but the kids were good to help with the framing, plumbing, wiring, and painting. Finally, we got it about completed so that we had Thanksgiving dinner in it that fall. The next spring I had a mover come in and move the steel building up to it’s present location. This helped things considerable. Many of the pine trees at the old location were also moved to the present location.

During my life-time I have come from the horse-and-buggy days to the jet-age. As kids, our main means of transportation were horses. We used to drive the cows to pasture each day on horse-back. The pasture was down on the ranch where Leo and Mary lived – about 3 miles away. So herding cows took a good share of my time as a small boy. Later on we finally got a bicycle and eventually a model T Ford. My first car was a 1929 Model A, then a new ’35 V-8, then a 1937 Oldsmobile. After getting out of the service, Marge and I bought a 1949 Plymouth;. The next one was a ’63 Plymouth which lasted until we bought a new 1968 Ford Torino. Incidentally, we have 183,000 miles on this car and are still driving it – even though we have a new Chrysler New Yorker. It, the ’68 Ford, has never had an overhaul of any kind and is still in good running condition. I’m quite sure we can get 200,000 miles on it if we live long enough. (Photos of cars borrowed from various internet sites).

Yes, transportation has really changed during my life-time. Last fall we flew to Alaska via Western Airlines. This spring we flew to Washington D.C. – took Amtrak to New York City and then flew back home. That’s a far cry from the way it was when I was a boy.