When the war started, I watched my brother and his friends march off to save the world from evil. Like everyone else left at home, I wanted to help. Anything I could do to make it easier for "my" boys, I was ready to do. Since I was still in school, my contributions to the war effort were pretty limited. I was jealous that my sister had a job typing correspondence at the Red Cross. I helped my mom and my sister turn our back yard into a victory garden. I happily complied with rationing. And letters, I wrote letters to my brother, his friends, and anyone else I had any connection to that was Over There. I celebrated every victory and mourned each loss. But it still wasn't enough.

I graduated high school in June, 1943. A month after graduation, I got on a bus to Fort Des Moines, Iowa, and joined the newly formed WAC. I had never worked so hard in my life. I was tested mentally and physically on a daily basis. Every second was worth it. My heart, mind, and body were flying high – I was training to truly make a difference. In October, I got my orders and joined the European theatre under Lieutenant General Mark Clark. With 59 of my sister soldiers I followed Lieutenant General Clark as he invaded Italy and later occupied Austria. I was finally able to serve my country and help the war effort communications support specialist. My fingers flew over the keys of a typewriter all over Europe. When the war ended, I was grateful that both my brother and I came home to our family. We were all amused that I came home with a higher rank in the Army than my brother.