Returning from the visit with my sister in Washington was a welcome respite from my Army duties. The train ride from New York to Vancouver and then up to Chilliwack gave me lots of time to think. The War was over; I had to make some decisions as to what I should do. I assumed that I could remain in the Army. I had a great job. The 18 months that I had served would count as double toward a twenty year retirement, since they were served during wartime. But, was that what I really wanted? Somehow I didn't feel like the Army was the ideal place for me. Perhaps the best thing to do was just waiting until the Army offered me a suggestion.
I didn't have to wait very long. I received word from the Station Commander that the Army was offering all enlisted men the opportunity to remain in the service until the future needs of the Army were determined. Additionally, any serviceman who had not yet reached their nineteenth birthday at the end of hostilities could seek a discharge. Somewhere, from deep inside, a voice said "The Army is not for me. Let's see where life would lead me". I was only eighteen and I wanted more than what the Army could offer. I requested the opportunity for discharge.
Within a couple of weeks I was ordered to turn in all my Army material. I permitted to keep and wear my uniform for up to thirty days, or until I could obtain civilian clothes. I was to report to the discharge center in Vancouver, where I would receive my discharge certificate and $100.00 to help me assimilate back into civilian life.
Prior to leaving Chilliwack, I said my farewells to everyone at the clinic; we exchanged civilian addresses and promised to keep in touch. I particularly felt sad to say goodbye to a young Indian soldier who lived in a little room in the basement of the clinic. His job had been to take care of the clinic, sweep the floors, and keep the furnace going at night so we had heat and hot water in the morning. He could not read or write and would often bring me a letter from the Indian Agent at his home reservation. The Indian Agent would write on behalf his mother who could not read or write, and ask me to read it to him. He would ask me to write back to his mother and would tell me what he wanted to say. I was trying to teach him how to read and he was learning the alphabet. We had become good friends. I urged him to keep on learning, I hope he did, but I doubt he did it. In a way, it's funny how war can bring people together in friendship on one hand while at the same time we are engaged in killing each other in some part of the world. I really don't think I would have ever made a good soldier.
I reported to the discharge center in Vancouver and was handed a certificate indicating that I was honorable discharged, given a pin to wear in my lapel plus $100.00 in cash. I was then directed to a little room to meet with an Army Captain who would help me back into civilian life. He shook my hand and told me that my Country would like me to purchase a Canadian Bond with my $100.00 discharge bonus. I told him the $100. 00 was a clothing allowance and I needed that. The only clothing I had was my uniform. I guess he had some kind of quota to make as he was not happy that I would not buy his Canadian Bond. He suggested that somehow I was not patriotic. I suggested that he was crazy if he thought I was going to give him my money. That was my introduction back into civilian life.
I had contacted my father and made my way to stay with him. The next day I went shopping for a suit and other clothing. Not much of a selection and I even had to show my discharge certificate before the store would sell a suit to me, the war time clothing rationing had not yet been lifted. I spent the next two weeks trying to find a job. A lot of veterans were looking for work and very little was available. I finally got a job at the post office, cancelling stamps. It paid twelve dollars a week. I couldn't live with my father as it was too far to travel every day. I was able to find a room in a small hotel in town, for six dollars per week. It was not much of a hotel. Just a single bed and a chest of drawers, but it was clean. No elevator and my room was on the 3rd floor. I was beginning to think the Army was not a bad deal after all. I had been at the post office for a couple of weeks and had been to the Military employment office several times but they had nothing available except some manual labor jobs. I had tried all the dental labs and they had nothing available at that moment, but promised to call me if any opening came up.
One evening, going home to the hotel after work, the room clerk told me that my father had called and wanted me to return his call. The only telephone was in the lobby. When I got through to my father, he told me that I had a call from a Doctor Spurgeon in Sacramento, California, and he wanted me to call him. Dr. Spurgeon had been one of the dentists at Chilliwack. He was a young man, about 35 years or so of age, and was one of the Doctors I had exchanged addresses with.
I only had a couple of dollars in my pocket, just enough for my dinner, breakfast and lunch on the next day. Luckily for me, the next day was payday at the post office. I would have $24.00, less Government employment stamps, about $2.00. I got my pay and on that evening I called Doctor Spurgeon. He had set up a practice in Sacramento and wanted to know if I would like to work for him as his Lab Technician. He said that he would pay me $50.00 per week. I told him I would like to come; however, I would have to go through immigration to get into the USA. He said that he would hold the job open for me and that I should let him know if I needed any help. He also said that he would be willing to vouch for me with the US State Dept. if I needed it, and keep him informed.
With some good luck, it would seem that I would soon be on my way to California.
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