By Marilee Rabb Chapman (AHS Class of '42)
Atlanta High School in 1941 was blessed with a champion Rabbit football team, an outstanding school band, an enthusiastic pep squad, and fun dances with the best Glenn Miller Big Band music of all time.
Then on December 7, our lives, like millions of other lives, changed forever.
After attending Sunday School and church, my friends and I went to a movie. During the movie, Jack Oaks, who was the manager of the theater, walked down the aisle to the stage and announced in a loud voice that Japanese planes had bombed Pear Harbor.
I asked Mr. Oaks if I could use the telephone to call my dad. Oaks served in the local National Guard unit and said to let him know what Captain Rabb (dad) said.
The news was not good. Dad had already received a telegram to have his unit ready to leave as soon as possible. This band of heroes, Atlanta's Guardsmen, left two days later by train.
My dad had help organize the local Texas National Guard Unit in 1921 and continued as the commanding officer for 20 years. I can recall my mother and her friend Miss Alice O'Neal, traveling with dad and the Guard unit as they went on war maneuvers. I also remember how my sister Betty and I were often called Army brats because we accompanied dad on many of these maneuvers, and later we sang and danced for many USO shows.
Nearby Kilgore College was transformed into a flight school and some Rabbs like Weyland Thomas and Lee Daniels left to become great Navy and Marine pilots. Hardy Johnson and Shelton Prator took extra classes to attend Texas A&M early. Many of us attended Saturday classes and summer school to finish school sooner so we could concentrate on the war effort.
Cass County had a War Bonds and Stamps contest and Atlanta High won. We were told that every jeep we bought, by the sale of the bonds and stamps, would have our name printed on it. I could just visualize my dad, serving in the war overseas, seeing his daughter's name on a jeep. So I sold $36,860.40 worth of War Bonds and Stamps, which bought 49 jeeps.
Dad never did see my name on a jeep, but was proud of AHS selling enough bonds and stamps to buy 92 jeeps.
Even with the war going on, I was excited to be named the Drum Major for the AHS Band in 1942. Watching past drum majors Roy Price and Marie McClendon had inspired me.
Then the band director left for the war and there would be no band. I convinced the school to "rig up" my record player at Bivens-Trice Stadium so we could still have music for the halftime shows. That is how the flag twirling, baton twirling, dancing Maroon Jackets were born. Glenn Miller's "St. Louis Blues March" became our theme song, and we did our best to spread a little happiness during our wartime school years.
I remember that so many things were rationed -- meats, butter, sugar, coffee, canned foods, gasoline, cars, tires and shoes. I remember how our AHS classmates marched off to war, one-by-one, and how 21 did not return and the many others who were wounded.
I remember our brave classmates' ocean graves. I remember how our WWII school years brought us closer together. I am thankful that God gave me the privilege of knowing and loving our brave classmates who have given us the freedom we enjoy today.
To live in the hearts of others is never to die.
Put the wedding dress away
Class reunions have a way of stirring up many bittersweet memories, especially during the World War II years.
I remember how honored I was when my dearest AHS friend, Weyland Thomas, who had been voted Most Popular in school, named his Navy Hellcat -- a carrier-based fighter plane -- for me.
I remember how proud I was of his Air Medals from the President and from the Vice Admiral of the Navy for his direct bomb hits on Japanese tankers.
I remember how devastated I was to read the most dreaded of all telegrams. Weyland had gone down in Honshu Bay, 12 miles from Tokyo. He and his plane were never seen again. Ironically, he had already completed all of his missions and was scheduled to return home. One of the other pilots had the flu and Weyland flew his mission.
Our Earthly dreams ended.
The wedding dress was put away.
Marilee Rabb Chapman
East Texas News