"Little Did We Know, We Would Soon Be on African Soil."

Sergeant, Ed Ybarra

Ed Ybarra's parents left Durango, Mexico in 1909, bringing their children and their hope for a better life to the United States. They spoke no English. Ed's father, Joe was a strict disciplinarian with all eight of his children.  Ed was the youngest, born September 29, 1921, in Arkansas at the end of the prohibition era. The family moved to Broken Bow, Oklahoma shortly after Ed was born. "We were pretty well off in America," remembers Ed.

Then the Depression hit and they lost everything. The family of ten lived in a two bedroom house. The rent was $4 a month. "Our father was never without work". "During the depression; the most you got was two dollars a day." Ed added that wages were often fifty cents a day, but even if Joe only made fifty cents a day working some farm jobs, he would always bring home a sack of corn, peas or whatever they were harvesting.

In his late teens, while living in Broken Bow, Ed worked in the theatre. 'I wasn't making any money," he recalled. His brother, John and his wife, Wanda spoke often of a small town in the scenic Oregon Cascade mountains named Klamath Falls. They had lived there briefly before moving back to Broken Bow. John and Wanda wanted to return to Klamath Falls and they about begged me to go. "Dad and Mom encouraged me, saying it was a good idea."

Even though Ed was about a year from graduation, he decided to go. With nothing but his guitar and the clothes on his back, Ed said goodbye to his parents and to Broken Bow, in June, 1942. Ed drove John; Wanda; their daughter, Mary Lou; and Wanda's brother, MJ across country to Klamath Falls in a '35 Ford Sedan.

Upon arrival, Ed lived with his brother and his sister-in-law. Oregon, with its rolling forests of pine, promised steady employment. "I must have had a dozen different jobs that summer," he remembers. The summer was not all work. Ed played and sang in a band. They performed every Saturday night at the fairgrounds. “We drew a pretty good crowd," Ed recalls. But besieged by sore throats, Ed had to have his tonsils removed, sadly, he lost his singing voice.

Come autumn, Ed enrolled in Klamath Union High School. He had taken a year of typing in Broken Bow, so he signed up for typing again. He was only in school for one month before his life would change drastically, again. Now
eighteen, Ed registered for the draft. "I had signed up for the Marines, but I didn't have a birth certificate, which they wanted." When he sent for his birth certificate, he discovered he had been drafted in Oklahoma. He took the notice to the draft board in Klamath Falls. "They said, "don't worry about it, we'll notify them." By October of that same year, Ed Ybarra was enlisted.

As he prepared himself to leave for training, he had no idea what he would be doing in the service. "I was sworn in three days after my twenty-first birthday." He was given insurance, so his family would be cushioned in the case of his untimely death. He sent word back in Broken Bow, where his parents were considering a move to Flagstaff, Arizona.

WWII was heating up. The United States got involved in December of 1941. "Germany was trying to conquer the world," recalled Ed. "They were already in North Africa." Little did he know, he too would soon be on African soil.

He remembers the ninety day basic training. "We did maneuvers around Bend: at Camp Abbot. We camped near Redmond, Prineville, Burns, and Wagontire. We camped one place for a night or two, and then moved, just like in combat.
"I'd never had a gun in my hands," remembers Ed. He scored the highest points for marksmanship in his company of two-hundred men. He received the title: Expert Rifleman. Ed was armed with a rifle and a 45. Caliber pistol.

Soon the army found out I could type, said "we got a spot for you, and made me a corporal right off the bat." Ed became a Battery [Clerk] Sergeant. "Most of the time, when I had a jeep, I was doing administrative work. Each first sergeant had to fill out a report daily and send it back to personnel headquarters to record all of the casualties, people he had missing in action and injured." The Battery Clerk oversaw his company. "I knew everybody's serial number in my company by heart," remembers Ed. The Battery Clerk was also responsible for the company's payroll.

As a Battery Clerk, Ed had to document those hospitalized, as well as the nature of their injuries. "There were times when a company of two-hundred [had] quite a bit of turnover of injured and missing in action. I had to request replacements to keep up 'company strength and balance.' We had people in the back area, ten to fifteen miles behind the line to take the place as needed to keep up 'company strength and balance' as near as possible."

Ed witnessed it all on paper. "Sometimes we had a few extra men in the company. Sometimes we were operating as many as twenty to twenty-five less than 'full strength' until replacements arrived".  With the high turnover of soldiers, Ed sometimes received records only to send them elsewhere because the soldier had arrived, gone into battle, been injured and had already been sent to the hospital. Ed remembers, "It was quite hectic when the battle was fierce.

Ed spent most of his tour in North Africa. He remembers how humid it was. "When we moved into Italy, we went directly into combat. We spearheaded the attack."

"We were moving ahead almost daily," he remembers, "The Germans were retreating. The Germans were spread out thin and were struggling to get replacements and supplies. They had no food or manpower."

"Sometimes a battle would last a week or more. Sometimes they would run into mountain areas where the Germans were dug in and we couldn't get them out. Eventually they would retreat.

Some four or five death notices passed over Ed's hands daily. There were even more injuries. Often soldiers were shot in the leg or the arm. "I was fortunate to not be in the front line," said Ed gratefully.

If Ed often felt helpless, he made up for it with a tireless work ethic. He must have felt a combination of guilt and relief. The numbers were men. Each document was a family changed forever.

Ed was a Battery Clerk for about a year before he was promoted. The company had built a personnel area, and more man-power was needed. He became the Personnel Sergeant Major, a supervisor over the fifteen Battery Clerks. "Any Battery Clerks had a problem--they came to me."

Ed lodged with the soldiers of his company. His bed and his personal items were right next to the office. It is where he kept his letters from home. His sister, Marie, wrote letters to Ed to tell him that his parents had received the money that he’d sent. Ed was paid $103 a month, which he sent to his parents; along with the money he made playing craps with his bunk-mates.

When there was a lag in paperwork, the Battery Clerks would sometimes go ten days without anything to do. They would get their rifles and go out for target practice. Once, after hours of shooting the rifle, the barrel of Ed's gun got so hot that it was about to fold up. He exchanged the damaged rifle for another, but mostly Ed carried a pistol.

Returning from a leave in Fort Louis, Washington, Ed and his buddies received great word. "When we came back we heard that the war ended". Ed was offered a permanent position in the Army but he gracefully declined. Ed had no idea what his future had in store for him. His first wife hadn’t handled his deployment very well and the marriage ended in a divorce. Ed found himself single with big decisions looming ahead. He considered going to college or moving to another town. During his deployment his parents and two sisters had moved to Klamath Falls. He took a cab to their house. "They were happy to see me," remembers Ed.

Settling back into civilian life, Edward got a job at Weyerhaeuser, a lumber mill that produced lumber, plywood and hardboard for building houses. Weyerhaeuser was the only mill that manufactured pine which was "the most popular and cheapest for building," Ed remembers. At that time, 2,300 men were employed at Weyerhaeuser. He would spend forty years at Weyerhaeuser as an electrician.

For entertainment, Ed went to dances at the nearby Armory, like most of the Klamath Falls vets fresh from war. Promoter, Baldy Evans brought in the likes of Duke Ellington and Paul Whiteman ushering in a Southern Oregon dance craze. The introduction of "Country Western Music" to Southern Oregon was substantially lucrative. One particular armory show brought in 3,000 paid admissions, giving Klamath Falls a reputation for entertainment.