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DOROTHY'S WINDOW ~ VI
A SMALL-TOWN GIRL REMEMBERS AULANDER

© 2003 by Dorothy Jenkins Combs, Minnesota

Thanksgiving morning started with the usual "heavy" breakfast, followed by attendance at the 6 a.m. service at Aulander Baptist Church to give our praises and thanks for our many blessings.

It was always interesting to me that at almost any church activity, the men called each other "Brother" whoever, I suppose to render each other more "sacred" or sanctimonious.

The hunters were probably most appreciative for the closing hymn that morning in order for them to get to the fields where the unsuspecting quail were.

About 10:30 Daddy would be back home with his limit of birds, which Mother promptly cleaned and refrigerated while Daddy reported to us details of the hunt. Since Mother, Bob and I were already dressed up, Daddy would hastily dress up, too, to go to Aunt Mamie Blanchard's home in Woodland, about 11 miles away, where all family members on my mother's side were gathering for a Thanksgiving feast at 12 noon.

Aunt Mamie had been a widow most of her adult life, because Uncle Irvin had been hit and killed by a drunk truck driver on his way home from the bank where he worked. Their two sons, Irvin Jr. and Edward, were grown up now and in the armed services.

Aunt Mamie's home was decorated in a similar manner to ours and all the rest of her sister's homes. She was the only one, however, who owned a beautiful record player. I was especially appreciative of the symphonic music she had chosen to play quietly in the background, the themes of which I would remember all my life. Aunt Mamie was dressed in her "fall finest," and she was being a gracious hostess. Her live-in help was seeing to last-minute preparations, while all others were chatting casually in the living room or parlor.

Suddenly, there was a snap of wood, and Uncle Bob Cooke leapt to his feet exclaiming "God-a-mighty"!

The beautifully embroidered French Provincial occasional chair had broken under his weight! Others present suppressed alarmed giggles, while Aunt Mamie convinced him that the chair was too frail, and she never should have bought it!

Gradually, the chatting began anew with the seasonal, predictable discussion about when the cold snap might occur with the ensuing hog killing. This would be a routine topic until sometime in January when "it" came!

Feast was an accurate description for what followed. In the spacious dining room was a long table covered with a gorgeous linen cloth and glowing candles. At one end was a stack of fine china dishes, where the line of diners started to select from an array of delectable dishes: thinly sliced old boiled ham, roast turkey, fried chicken, pork roast, scalloped oysters, corn, collards, snap beans, stewed tomatoes, butter beans, candied yams and cranberry sauce, fried corn bread, homemade yeast rolls and clabber biscuits, followed by an assortment of cakes, pies and ambrosia.

Naturally, the adults served themselves before the children, who were aware of their "station."

In the long hall were lined several card tables, each of which was set with linen cloths, linen napkins, long-stemmed crystal goblets, sterling silverware, and china cups and saucers. Most of us went back for more "helpings," even as we continued conversations. The event was not strained or "stilted," but relaxed and "easy." We were accustomed to the bountiful ritual, which would happen many more times before Christmas at different homes.

Aunt Mamie's meal was the commencement of celebrating the holidays. At such affairs, the grownups kept to a minimum any talk of the war and their involved sons. Finally, with stomachs sated and hearts full of gratitude, the families dispersed.

("Dorothy's Window" will be continued in the next issue of The Poor Town News. Copies of Dot's book can be obtained by clicking here to contact her.)

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THE LEGEND OF JOHN CUCKLEMAKER CALE ~ XI

© Copyright 2003 by Stanley Hoggard, with
grateful acknowledgment to Neil Baker

The question has been asked many times, "Why was Charney known by the surname "Dundelow" ~ with one exception ~ during his first 40 years?" No one seems to have an apparent answer for that question, but we offer the following: There is a possibility that Indian John Cale and Elizabeth never married. When Charney was born he was given his mother's married name Duneleaux (Dundelow). Charney probably grew up thinking that he was the son of the deceased Henry Dundelow, Sr., but learned later that his father was John Cale.

There is a possibility that he had relatives from his mother's (Calais) family that were known as Cales after census enumeration was established in 1790. There could be various other reasons why he changed his name to John Charney Cale about 1820. Earlier we referred to William H. Cale's brief history written in 1934. In his history, William informs us that he had been told that "the name Charney was an old Indian expression for beautiful." If so, Charney Cale's name is a combination of French and Indian.

No one has come near to untangling the web woven by Charney during his life. The first surname on record used by Charney was Dunnelo, used in 1787 when he about seven years old. According to researchers, Charney used the surname Cale when he married Elizabeth Harmon Oct. 24, 1804. A "bastardy" case was brought against him in 1805, and he was identified as Charney C. Dundelow. Later, for reasons unknown, Charney voluntarily left his family and served several years in the military still using the Dundelow name. He continued to use the Dundelow name the first 16 years of his marriage. During the 16 years, Charney and Elizabeth had several children, but his wife and children were known as Cales, and never used the Dundelow name.

Some old stories accuse Charney of being a "womanizer," and some documents support the accusation. On Jan. 15, 1805, Frances Curry swore under oath that Charney C. Dundelow was the father of the unborn child she was carrying. On Feb. 28, 1805, an order was issued to "apprehend" Charney and bring him before the justices of the peace to answer the charges brought against him. On Aug. 16, 1805, Charney was "bound to the justices for 100 lbs." to support an illegitimate child born to Elizabeth Curry. According to researchers the child was named Mary. Mary married James Evans, and they named one of their children Yancey. Yancey married Martha Mizelle in 1881. After the death of Martha in 1878, Yancey married Winnie Carter in 1882.

Yancey survived service in the Civil War, but suffered from a disability the remainder of his life. When Yancey died in 1900, Winnie was left with several children, and destitute. She applied for pension benefits as the widow of military veteran Yancey. Among those who appeared as family witnesses before the government examiner in 1902 was Joseph E. Hoggard.

When Joseph described his family relationship before the examiner, he testified that Yancey's mother was half-sister to his wife. Joseph's wife was Penelope, the younger daughter of Charney Cale. Through his testimony, Joseph confirmed that Mary, the mother of Yancey, was the daughter of Frances Curry by Charney C. Dundelow/Cale.

There are other stories about Charney's extramarital affairs, but they are not as well documented as the Frances Curry case. Some have suggested that Charney left his family and joined the army to escape mounting problems created by his "tomcatting" activities. It is known that another Charney Cale (Silvey's son) was involved in activities similar to those of the older Charney Dundelow Cale. It is now believed that some of the stories of the younger are detrimental to the reputation of the older.

After years of searching for hard facts on the man Charney Dundelow Cale, many particulars are still a mystery. All evidence indicates that he grew up in the Will's Quarter area. According to traditional stories, after he married, his home was near the Ross Church-Cucklemaker Creek area. The exact site of his family homeplace is not known today. We wonder how many researchers have been lured into the presence of old Charney and heard him say, "You'll never figure me out."

Read more about the legend of Cucklemaker in a future issue of The Poor Town News. Information and comments are welcome. Click on the names to contact the authors and researchers, Stanley Hoggard and Neil Baker.

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THREE WEEKS ON OMAHA BEACH

© 2004 Julius Shoulars

I will digress now and give you a breakdown on the organization of a Beach Battalion. A Battalion is composed of a staff and 9 companies. The companies are identified as: A, B and C with each company having three platoons identified as A-1, A-2, A-3, B-4, B-5, B-6, C-7, C-8 and C-9. Each platoon consists of approximately 42 men. The platoon is broken down into sections designated as hydrographic, medical, communications and boat repair. The hydrographic section has approximately 18 members, the medical section has approximately eight members, the communication section has approximately eight members and the boat repair has approximately eight members.

Each platoon had a Beach Master, usually a lieutenant; an Assistant Beach Master, rated as an ensign and a Medical Doctor rated as a lieutenant or higher.

The hydrographic sections were responsible for finding channels in the water and placing flags on the beach so the small boats could approach and unload their troops or supplies. They served as traffic cops to keep the traffic flowing smoothly across the beaches, and as litter bearers who helped transport the dead to the cemetery on the beach, and any other job that needed to be done.

The medical section was responsible for treating the wounded on both sides and designating the most severely injured so they could be evacuated first. The communication section was responsible for signal flags, blinker lights and radio communications between the Army and Navy.

The boat repair section was responsible for repairing and keeping as many small boats flowing back and forth to the ships as possible. The staff was commanded by the overall Beach Master, whose rating was commander, an Executive Officer rated as a lieutenant, and a Communication Officer rated as a lieutenant.

The enlisted men, numbering eight, had different ratings. Each company had a commander and an assistant plus six enlisted men attached to the staff. The total number of men in each Beach Battalion consisted of approximately 450. The Beach Battalions were to control the beaches from the waterline back 100 yards.

The Beach Battalions did not have mess cooks as we were to be fed by the Army. The Army was not interested in feeding the Navy. We lived on "K" rations most of the time. After the beach calmed down, we could go back aboard the LSTs and other vehicles coming ashore and get food. When this was not available, we would find an Army supply truck coming ashore. One of us would divert the attention of the driver, while others would unload food from the rear of the truck.

There was one funny incident that happened in regard to getting food. One day, several of us were standing on the beach and we heard coming toward us two of our men running and yelling, "Dig a hole." These men had boxes under their arms filled with food. We put the boxes in the hole and covered them with sand. Coming down the beach toward us was an Army jeep with a lieutenant and a sergeant. The lieutenant jumped out of the jeep and demanded, "Where are those boxes you stole from us?" We claimed we didn't know what he was talking about and after much discussion they left. The funny part was that the lieutenant was standing on top of the boxes.

After being on the beach for approximately one week, a huge storm blew up in the English Channel. The English had built floating drydocks and floated them over to Normandy to form a pier. The docks were flooded with water to sink them on the Channel floor. The large ships bringing supplies to the beach were to tie up beside these docks and unload.

The storm was so fierce that it devastated the docks and made them useless. Due to the inability of the ships to bring in supplies, the landing was in jeopardy. To solve the supply problem, more flat-bottomed boats and ships were put into service to bring supplies directly to the beach. This plan in the long run was better, as more supplies could be unloaded directly to the beach rather than over the docks. Dilapidated Liberty ships were towed across the Channel and sunk offshore to provide a man-made harbor.

During the three weeks we stayed on Omaha Beach, we did not have fresh water to shave or shower and no change of clothing. We did have fresh drinking water. After the three weeks on the beach, the Beach Battalion's job was accomplished, and we were loaded aboard ships to be transported back to England. Some of our communications people volunteered to stay on the beach for six months, to provide communication between the Army and Navy and direct ships to shore.