Son,
You're Just As Good As In The Army, Now!
By
Joe Lipsius
Regtl
Hq 272nd Inf Rgt
When
registration for Selective Service took place by Octobe 1940, I think most were
like me and thought it would not apply to them.
I was living in Montgomery, Alabama with a co-worker, Oscar Harper, and
his father, Malcolm Harper, in a large room, in the landmark Exchange Hotel, in
downtown Montomery. I mention
these names because both became big Alabama politicians and some of you might
recognize them. Mr. Harper was in
the process of moving his family from Geneva, Alabama.
When this was accomplished in August, 1941, I moved with them to the
Cloverdale section of Montgomery.
Oscar
was in the advertising department of the Alabama Journal while I was in its
circulation department as City Circulation Manager.
My
"Greetings," or whatever it was called, letter came in July, 1941,
rather unexpectedly, and actually with not a lot of importance attached to it.
It instructed me to report at 10 AM, on a Sunday, a certain date, to a
Doctor's office not more than a block away from the Exchange Hotel as well as
the newspaper office.
Usually,
my Sunday morning was consumed riding around the poor sections helping newspaper
carriers collect the weekly paper bill from customers.
I knew I was to report to the Doctor's office but the main thing was
collecting the money so the boys could pay their bills and have a profit left
over.
About
mid-morning, I drove to the Hotel and was greeted by the desk clerk with,
"Joe, the FBI has been looking for you.
Two of them are standing over there, now,"
pointing
to two men at the Hotel entrance. I
walked over, introduced myself and was informed the Doctor had reported my
failure to be at his office. They
told me to beat it over there now and everything would be ok.
I
rushed the block to the Doctor's office which was in a converted house.
Reaching the door, I found it locked.
A knock brought a nurse to the door who angrily greeted me for being
late. "Doctor so and so is
very mad you are late. He runs 8 or
10 through at a time. Now, he will
have to take extra time and run you through alone.
He is about finished with the morning group so just wait."
In
a few minutes an upset Doctor summoned me to the scales with the nurse alongside
him. "Step up here,"
pointing to the scales. "112
punds and 5 ft 5 inches," he said after some scale adjustments, to the
nurse with my papers. Sheepishly, I
asked, "Doctor, that's not enough to be in the Army, is it?"
No doubt "browned off" with me for requiring him to do extra work on Sunday, he replied, "Son, you're just as good as in the Army, now!"