I was in Preston one night with my friend Roy Balls, We went into a restaurant to get some thing to eat. That seemed to be the big entertainment to do then. We sat at the counter, Roy said I have to go to the restroom you go ahead and order for both of us. I looked at the menu and they had 12 fried oysters on there for $1.25. You could only get those in season In Preston, so I ordered that for us. Roy came back and sat down and we talked a minute before the girl brought our dinner. Roy looked at it and said what is this? I said fried oysters, he picked up his fork and knife and cut into one. Seeing the green inside he put down his fork and knife and got up and went to the end of the bar where he ordered a hamburger. I sat and eat his and mine and enjoyed them all.Mom would have loved to be with me. I some times bought the bottled kind and took home, and she and I would fry them to eat. Dad was in the living room one time reading the paper when I was frying oysters for mom and I. As soon as he smelled them he put his paper down and came through the kitchen on his way out. I can hear him now saying as he left, Hells fire some people will eat anything. The only fish I ever seen dad eat was halibut. We didn’t eat out often but if we did he ate halibut.

MerLyn e-mailed me her experience with oysters. Burns took me to the Chinese restaurant in Preston one time which was a real treat because we didn’t go out to eat, you always ate at home. I don’t remember what he ordered for me, but he ordered oysters to eat. I was such a picky eater and no doubt wrinkled my nose at the looks of them and he started telling me how good they were and how they wriggled in your stomach and I have yet to see one of those uncooked, uncleaned looking things that I could eat so I guess I would agree with my Dad.

My mom loved to eat fish of any kind and always was looking for someone who had butchered or had gone hunting and asked them to save the liver for her. Some Indian had told her that those things was good for the Asthma she suffered with so many years. I was never fond of either one but mom had been so sick so many years that she was willing to try any thing to get better. We lived about a mile from Bear River. It was a traitorous body of water. One of my friends a Smart who lived between Weston and Dayton had drowned in the river while swimming. My cousin Hal drowned there later after he was married and had a farm along it’s banks. His horse came home one day covered with mud and no rider. They didn’t find Hal for a week or so later. Some thought the bank had given way and Hal was stuck under while his horse got away. Many more lives have been taken by that stream.

I have thought since growing up that it was strange that my parents didn’t keep me from going there as a small boy. I don’t remember them telling me to stay away. I used to play around the swamps and river with my cousin Carroll, and often went alone to the river as a small boy to fish. As a teenager I hunted ducks there. I had no pole or any equipment but would take cotton string and tie a fish hook on to it. Up a couple of feet from the hook, I would tie a dry stick. A worm was put on the hook and tossed into the river. I remember sitting on the bank and watching as whirl pools went round and round in the water. I remember thinking of the stories I heard of boys being dragged under from those whirling pools of water. When the stick I had tied on to the string went under I knew I had a fish and would drag in the string. At the narrows where the river starts the water is clear and trout swim in it’s waters but by the time it gets to our farm it is dirty always making a new channel as it makes it’s way to Utah. I enjoyed those days of fishing but never went swimming in it’s waters, nor did I have an accident while there.

I have thought sometimes of the different generations and how we think. I remember reading a note that mom had written when I was going through her things looking for genealogy. She had come to visit us and we were having a dinner to raise money for the new stake center. Mom wrote that Keith paid for me and it cost a lot of money $1.25 each. To me if I have to pay more than $5.00 or $6.00 for dinner I think it is expensive. My kids don’t seem to think any thing of paying twice that or more. And I guess the grandkids shell out $20.00 and think nothing of it.

A story I have told many times and enjoyed I got from my mother but can’t find the original now. I don’t know if it was just something she kept or if she wrote it. I’ll repeat it as best I can from memory.

My companion and I were ask to deliver a letter to a man in the North. We were not told of its content but it must have been important. On the back hot wax had been poured and a stamp of some kind placed in that. Opening the letter would break that wax seal. We had a choice of walking or riding a bike but choose to walk because at that time of the year the roads were muddy and slick. We started early on our journey. My companion was younger than I, but he was senior so I followed him. It was almost noon when we came out of the woods and to a cross road. It was mountainous country and we were lost. I felt we should go to the right but he turned left so I could do nothing but follow. It was late afternoon when we approached a wooded area, and it started to drizzle a little. I new we had to find shelter soon, but my companion kept on going. It was almost dark as we entered these woods and the trees made it harder to see. I could hardly see my way and it was slick underfoot with ruts that made you slide with almost every step. Suddenly my companion stopped. I almost bumped into him. He was looking off into the woods to the right. I strained to see what he was looking at and was about to tell him not to leave the main road when he veered off into the woods. I had no choice but to follow. The path was narrow and the brush wet as we walked, then he was stopped again. I could see a silhouette off to the left of a cottage in the thick forest and a small light coming from it. It must have been what he saw from the road. I immediately felt the danger we were in and was about to warn him, but he was already going up the path. I didn’t dare shout to him because others might hear. By the time I reached him he was already knocking on the door.

An old man opened a crack and then a little more. I could see inside there was a fire in a fire place that must be where the light was coming from. My companion was talking to him but I didn’t understand the dialect up here very well and didn’t know what they were saying. Then the old man opened the door and motioned my gullible companion to come in. I had no choice but to follow. Once in the room and my eyes adjusted to the light I could see rifles, pistols, and knives hanging on the walls every where. At a table over by the fire place there was an old lady and thee other grown men seated at the table. I needed to warn my companion of the danger, but he was already over by the table and the old man was motioning to me to come and warm myself. I was cold so I went over.

We were then invited to sit down and eat. I was hungry after our long walk, so I thought it just as well to eat then maybe I could warn my companion of the danger we faced. While we eat I thought to myself, I hope my companion is not so dumb as to show them the letter we carried. Just as I had this thought, he reached into his brief case and brought it out. The old man took it turned it over looked at the seal, shook his head and handed it back. Don’t tell them we are Mormons I thought, but my companion replaced the letter and brought out a Book of Mormon and handed it to the old man. He opened it, looked through a few pages, said thank you, and the family got up and left. I waited not daring to speak loud enough to be heard. When I was satisfied that we were alone I leaned over to whisper to my companion, but just then the old man came back into the room carrying a candle and motioned to us to come to him. My companion was up before I could warn him, and I had no choice but to follow.

We entered a room used for storage I am sure. There were sacks and barrels, and things hanging from the rafters. We had to step over things on the floor as we were lead to the far side of the room. Here was a bed with blankets and pillows laying on it. The old man said some thing I didn’t quite understand and left leaving us in the dark.

I waited hoping to finally warn my companion. When I was about to say to him we have to get out of here, I heard his breathing get louder and louder and knew he had fallen asleep. I didn’t dare wake him for fear he would cry out if I shook him. I was tired after our long day’s journey and thought it just as well to rest a little, but I wouldn’t sleep. I lay down trying to think of a plan by which we could escape. I woke with a start. I could see light coming through a crack in the wall, and then voices. I strained to hear what was said. I thought I heard the old Lady say, should we kill both of them? The answer came from the old man who said, certainly.

I wanted to wake my companion and tell him to run, we had to escape, but my throat was so dry I couldn’t make a sound. The door on the other side of the room opened, I saw the old man and the old woman step inside. He was holding a candle and she was holding a basket of some kind and a large knife. They slowly and quietly crossed the room. They stopped in front of the bed and looked down at my companion his throat fully exposed. I wanted to scream, but could make no noise. The old man turned and gave the candle to the old lady. He took the knife and reaching up over head he cut some thick slices of ham that had hung from a rafter placing it in the basket the old lady carried. When finished he put the knife between his teeth took the candle, looked down at my companion again and led her again quietly out of the room.

I lay there trying to clear my throat and warn my companion of our danger when he suddenly leapt from the bed and said, come on its day light time to go. I hurried after him. It was too late to warn him now as he stood in the same room we had been in the night before. The old man seeing us motioned for us to come over to the fire place. On the table was ham and eggs and we were invited to eat. On the table were two freshly baked chickens. He said we were to take them on our journey. It was then for the first time that I understood what the old lady meant when she asks “shall we kill both of them?”

I have told that story a number of times, but probably enjoyed doing it the most in Virginia, while Inga and I served our 2^nd mission. Elder Jenny and his wife were welfare missionaries. They gave away clothing to the poor. He asks if we would like to go with them one Sunday. They were going to put on a program for an Old folks home. The day we were to go he had lost his voice so he could hardly speak. His wife played accordion. He asked me if I could do something on the program to help out. Having no other talent to offer, I told stories. I thought one old lady’s would have a heart attack before I finished. She told me after I new you lived some how but was very worried. She would look from side to side at others to see if they were as concerned. Sister Jenny played and the people sang. Two older people I believe brother and sister sang and they could really sing. How Great Thou Art and such other religious songs. The preacher who was there didn’t like them having such a good time I guess. He would keep getting up and saying something like thanks but we have no more time and dismiss us. The group of people ignored him and would ask for more. We had a great time.

It seemed to me that Dad worried a lot about getting his beets out of the ground before bad weather came. They could freeze so bad that you couldn’t get a beet plow in the ground and you would then loose them. I didn’t realize it at the time but he was poor and couldn’t afford to lose those beets. Deer season was always in October right in the middle of beet harvest and we boys always wanted to go. Uncle Merl would stop his work to take us. Dad would fret and try to get us to keep working but always seemed pleased when we came home with meat. One year I remember having seven deer hanging from our derrick pole.

Our farm was very small to raise such a large family. Every foot of it had to be used. When we started to top sugar beets, after work dad would have us take a wagon and load up some of the tops and haul into the cows in order to save on the hay he had, and make it last all winter. The cows loved them but a cows bowl is loose anyway, and after feeding them sugar beet tops it was a real danger to walk behind one. If they coughed they could shoot you at a long distance. They got it all over there tails and swung that around. The whole back end was dirty. Sugar beet pulp could also be brought home from the sugar factory after the beets had been ground up to get the sugar out. It had the same effect on a cow as the tops did, but the cows loved the smelly stuff. A horse was worse, they would pa them right out of the ground and eat the whole thing. Another thing Dad did to get by, was to put malaises on the first crop hay that the cows didn’t like very well. It was course and harder to chew so they would eat off the leaves and rut the rest away with their nose. The horses would eat it even with the leaf gone. We couldn’t afford to waste anything so the horses got what the cows wouldn‘t eat, and forged in the fields for anything they could find. The milk was Dad’s cash crop so he feed the cows the best so as to get as much milk as possible.

When the harvest was finished the cattle and horses would be turned loose to glean everything they could from the fields. The grain harvested in August would spill some grain on the ground and it would sprout at the first rain, so there would be green sprouts mixed with the dry straw about 4 or 5 inches high for the cattle to eat. The fourth crop of hay would start to grow then at 4 or 5 inches the frost at night would stop that growth. If it was high enough to harvest it was cut other wise it also was eaten by the live stock turned in the fields.

Dad did all his work with horses even though many farms were using tractors and trucks by the time I was in my teens. He had a beet wagon box that he could load 6 ton of sugar beets on and take them to a beet dump about three miles away. There they would be dumped taken by a moving belt to a rail road car. All the dirt that shook loose from the beets you had to take back. It would fall in to a big bucket after being shaken off the beets. You opened the door and got yours back. It was quite a pile each time. Some people dumped there’s along the county road but dad always took his home and filled in low spots with it. Here is a photo of the beet dump before electricity made it possible to have a conveyer belt to load the beets. There was a chain that lifted the rack half way over and into a pit where they were taken by belt to the train cars. Lots better than doing it by hand like you see here.

The farms that used trucks would get stuck easily after a little rain or even frost at night. They would load so much and sink in the soft soil and be stuck. Then dad would pull in front of them with his team and pull them to a packed road. I always loved to see the team pull those trucks free.

Brother Larson a member of our ward was hit some how by a train and killed while harvesting his beets, and Bishop Tingey announced in Priesthood meeting that we would finish his harvest the next day. Dad had no problem with leaving his own crop for something like that. I remember it seemed the whole ward showed up but dad was the only one with team and beet plow and he almost killed off his horses that morning plowing so many beets for so many toppers. We had the whole job finished that day and were ready to get back to our own.

Some times when we could get away from work some of my friends and I would go into the hills horse back and camp out. Once we went up dry canyon, and to practice our cowboy skills we ran some Hereford calves in the roundup coral. I was going to show off my cowboy skills with my horse she was good at such things but I found out I wasn’t. I roped a calf weighing about 400 pounds and was going to show my friends I could throw and tie it just like they do in the rodeo. I went out that rope just like a pro and tried to grab the flank to put it down. Me and that calf went round and round until I was covered in manure from top to bottom. And to make things worse the guys who owned those calves were in the hills checking their herds and heard the ruckus, they came to see what was going on. Boy did we get chewed out. They put those cows and calves up in the hills to put pounds on and we could run of a months fat in one rodeo. I was sure glad they didn’t go tell my dad about it.

I always took my sister to the dances if she didn’t have a date, and we danced well together. I remember we had a lot of fun. Later some times we even group dated. She went out with Junior Neff and I was in love with Alice Moser. Four couples went out one week end, Juniors folks were gone some place so we decided to have a chicken dinner at there house. We left the girls there while we went to get chickens. We didn’t tell them we were going to steal them. And Alice Moser’s dad raised chickens. The guys decided it would be best if I drove the car and didn’t actually go into the coop. I was glad for that I liked fried chicken, but I didn’t like swiping any thing. I was to drive down the road after letting the 3 others out and then come back and pick them up. Mr. Moser stood and watched everything that went on in that chicken house and knew who they were. I guess he didn’t know how they got there.

When we next went to school those guys were called into the office and told that Mr. Moser had left a message for them. Come to my home tonight at 6 pm or the sheriff will bring you. A quick meeting was held by the 4 of us and it was decided that because I was not mentioned I didn’t need to go. But I was so curious that I just had to. I called Alice and ask if she would like to go out that night. And told her I would pick her up about 6:30. When I arrived I could see my three friends sitting at a breakfast nook with Mr. Moser on the end so they couldn’t get out. He had his wife cook a lot of chicken and he was feeding it to them. When they said they were full he would just smile and say I know you guys like chicken so eat, or do I have to call the sheriff to get you to eat more.

I heard all about it the next day at school and those guys wouldn’t take a chicken from him again if they were starving. I don’t know if he ever knew I was in on it or not.

Some time during the winter of 1947 our boxing team went to Afton Wyoming to box. Going over the mountain we ran into a herd of deer, hundreds of them, just like a herd of sheep on the road which stopped our bus. I told them I would make a road for us and got out thinking I could just run through them and they would scatter like sheep did. Instead they just stood and looked at me. They were so starved they could hardly walk. Even if I kicked them in the rear they hardly moved. Some were tunneled back into the snow bank on the side of the road until just the hind end was sticking out looking for a blade of grass to eat. I remember reading in the paper how people in town were complaining about them coming into there yards and eating the shrubs. The game department hauled hay out on the runways of the Logan airport. There was 3000 deer and elk there at one time.

It snowed so much and blew snow every place. We were snow bound for about two weeks when I decided to go to town. I walked on the drifted frozen snow so deep along the fence lines I didn’t have to crawl through I could just walk over it. A few farmers were in town. I met my uncle Merl there and he ask me how I had gotten there. I told him I had walked and he said you better get home it is starting to snow again. I did start and by the time I got to the last street light in Weston, the snow was blowing all around me. I couldn’t tell where I was. I knew I lived about a mile east, but where was east. I could see nothing but snow all around me. I would climb up a snow drift, then being blind step out and fall to the bottom of the drift, then repeat the same thing over and over. I began to get tired and discouraged and sat down under a drift for a while. I started to feel warm and thought I would just stay there until the storm was over. Then I remembered my dad had told me what it was like to freeze to death, and it seemed to me I heard his voice saying get up and run. I did get up and started stumbling through the snow again. Dad being worried had gone out and turned on the yard lights, barn lights, and house lights as well, so if I were coming I might see them. After a long struggle I finely made it home. From that time on I have never liked cold and snowy weather.

From the time I was small I was taken to the canyon to chop trees and bring home for winter wood. Some times we came home late in the afternoon, and it would get very cold as soon as the sun disappeared behind the mountain. As a kid when my feet and hands started to ache with the cold, I would start to cry, and dad would make us boys get off the wagon and walk. I thought he was very mean to us on such occasions, but it warmed us up so we didn’t get frost bitten before we got home.

I believe it was the same year 1947 that we had no roads open except the highway. All the farmers had filled all there milk cans and were starting to feed their milk to pigs, and chickens, if they had any. Darwin Feller the milk hauler, called me, and said he would pay me to go and gather up the milk and bring it up to the highway with my dad‘s sleigh and team. I thought that a great idea, I had few opportunities to get money in the winter, other than my milk check. I went with a bob sleigh to Morg Benson’s, Grandpa Whitney’s, Uncle Platte Green’s, and Mel Mckay’s. I had a pretty good load of milk on that sleigh when going around the corner on the road that took me past Frank Shrives, and Wash Thompson, to our place. As I rounded the corner the runners on the right side caved in to the snow. I had been running on frozen snow, but the weight was just to much, and it dumped me, and most of the milk out. When I looked up I could see all that milk running out into the snow. I thought, oh, no, now I will have to pay for all this milk. I picked up what was left and continued on to the highway where Darwin waited for me. When I told him what had happened he said it was insured and I wouldn’t have to pay. Boy was I relieved. When I got home I was frost bitten on the cheeks, ears, fingers, and toes, so I got another of mom’s snow treatments to get the frost bit out.

When the roads were finally opened it was done with cats used by the farmers rather than county equipment. They just scraped the snow from side to side leaving a path down the road. Sometimes when the buses wouldn’t start Mart Rasmussen, who had a sleigh with a cover like a sheep wagon would come and take us to school. He had a little stove inside also to help keep us warm. When the buses did come some times the snow was so high after they plowed, that you couldn’t see the bus. We could hear it coming and waited until it stopped in front, where dad had made a tunnel out to the road. I didn’t like the cold but thought every one had to put up with it.

I really have no fond memories of high school although I enjoyed foot ball and boxing. The only thing I can think of that I learned was to type. I graduated in May 1949 and was just glad to be done with it. I think it was this same year that Alice gave me an electric train for my birthday. I had wanted one all my life, each Christmas was a disappointment to me. I kept that train and got it out every year at Christmas time, Putting it under the Christmas tree. When our boys were big enough to be to rough it finely was broken. I wish now I would have kept it and had it repaired, I still would like one but they are much more expensive now.

I spent a lot of time doing things that I shouldn’t do and became more and more unhappy. I even had thoughts of taking my own life. One night Roy Balls picked me up to go out on the town, and while driving down the road he said, my bishop came to see me today. Oh, what did he want I ask. He ask me if I wanted to go on a mission. His older brother Val was on a mission at the time. None of my brothers had been missionaries. They all went off to war. I ask him what he had told the bishop, and he said he would think about it. Neither of us said any thing for awhile then I said, why don’t we both go. I new I had to change my life and this seemed like a good chance. So we decided that was what we would do.

Some time before I was called on a mission, I think I was 18, my sister MerLyn had married Dennis Fife, her new husband soon after went on a mission. I really didn’t know him, but while he was on a mission he had some medical problem and returned home to have it taken care of. Then he went back to finish his mission. One Saturday afternoon he called me and said lets go fishing. I said I can’t, I have to do chores in a little while and then I have a date. Oh, that’s ok he said, we can be back by chore time. He was waiting for MerLyn to get off work in Preston where she was a hair dresser. I thought I better humor him so I agreed, and ask if he wanted me to dig some worms. No he said I have every thing we need.

In a few minutes he drove up in a bright yellow convertible Studebaker. All ready I liked him more. We drove down to the river and parked in some ones field. He opened the trunk and took out a stick of dynamite which he cut in 2 or 3 pieces. And throw it to me. Hey be careful with that stuff I said. Oh, he said it don’t have a cap in it yet and he went on preparing one with cap and fuss. He lit it and throw it in the river. Then there was a big bang and the mud and water started to boil. He told to me to get a stick and start dragging in the fish. This was repeated a few times while I worried about the loud noise. I could just see the head lines in the paper. Mormon missionary arrested for using dynamite in the river. It didn’t take long until we had a bucket full of fish and went home.

The next morning I finished chores and was ready to go to church. I went out side to wait for my sister and others to get ready. I met mom in the porch as she was coming in. She asked what is that laying on the window sill? I told her it was a stick of dynamite that Dennis had given me, left over from our fishing trip. She said you get rid of that right now. Being the obedient boy that I was, took it and went out to the back yard wondering where to get rid of it. Then I remembered the old apple tree I had slept in for years was now dead, and didn’t look very good. Dad was in the field watering but I figured he would appreciate me getting rid of that old dead tree for him. I took a crowbar and made a hole right down by the roots just the size for a stick of dynamite. A perfect plan. I stuck the cap in like I had seen Dennis do but I didn’t have much fuss left. I put the little piece I had in and lit it and backed away. It blew before I got far and the bang was much louder than any thing I had heard at the river. I used the whole stick. Dennis had cut his in pieces. Mom said get rid of it so I used it all. That tree went strait up in the air. I looked to see what Dad was going to do. He got the sound just as the tree was making a turn and the top was coming down first. We had kept a pony in that orchard for years and the dried manure was several inches thick, where we had been feeding her. Manure was now raining down on me and my Sunday suit. Mom came running out of the back door of the house screaming what happened what happened. I don’t remember getting in trouble with Dad, after all I did get rid of an old dead tree and it was Mom that told me to get rid of that dynamite.

During the war the City Dad’s decided they better have a air raid siren just in case the Japs decided to do Weston in. It was never used, but it was there so they turned it on every day at noon, that was helpful to know when to go to dinner. They also turned it on when ever some one had a fire, so the town could come out and watch the house or what ever it was burn down. Some of us kids thought it fun to set it off other times to liven up the town. There was a little cement jail house built on the town square and in it was a fire hose mounted on a two wheel cart. I don’t think they ever put out a fire with it but it was all they could afford I guess.

One night Mom had me take her to town to get some things at the store and while she did that and visited with who ever was in the store, I was talking to my friend Jolly. I said to him it would be fun to set off the fire alarm to night. No, he said, we might get in trouble. Oh, you can go do it and run up through the back lots to the Butters place, and lay in the barrow pit, I will come along and dim my lights so you know its me picking you up, and we can run over to Preston and get something to eat, no one will think it was us. About that time mom said she was ready to go home so we went, and just got out of the car when the siren went off. I told mom I wanted to go back up and see where the fire was. I had by now forgotten about Jolly. When I got up there some men were standing around wondering about the siren. I heard one say it must have had a short in it so I went back home. The next day when I got to priesthood meeting Jolly said, where the heck were you, I laid in that barrow pit a long time and I never seen your lights dim.

Brother Palmer was our English teacher in High School and also drove the bus. We gave him a hard time. I’m not sure why. Once I remember coming home on the bus, Jolly was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, and Palmer stopped the bus and told Jolly to get off. He didn’t so Palmer came to the back of the bus and grabbed his arm and started to twist it. Jolly held on to the seat with one hand, then when his arm twisted a long ways around he just flipped it back. He was laughing and having a good time. Palmer finally said are you going to get off or not? Jolly decided he really wanted him to so he did. One Halloween we took the school bus he had parked in front of his house and drove it up to the grade school where we parked it up on the steps and left it. What we called pranks kids would be put in jail for now days. Jolly did spend one week end in jail but I can’t remember why.

Uncle George Winn was the father to Uncle Jacks wife Ethel. When he died Uncle George who had married Aunt Florence 9 uncle Jacks sister0 moved there and tried farming for awhile. I guess he couldn’t make it so he soon was gone again. When he moved he gave us a cattle dog he had. This dog had been hit with a mower and had lost part of his left hind leg. But he could still out run a cow and really knew how to work them. You could send him in the coral to get a cow and he would get her and not the others. You could send him into the field to bring in the cows and he would do it slowly so as not to bring on there milk and waist it. At night when our chores were done sometimes he would hear a neighbor doing chores and would sit and whine until you said ok you can go. Off he would run as fast as he could go and help them with there chores. They all loved to have him visit.

Once a man was moving cattle from one pasture to another and had a large herd going by. When Pet heard them coming he wanted to go, and he would go help out some times following the herd for several miles but always came home. One man liked him so much he came back and ask dad if he would sell that dog for $300. I thought for sure my dog was a goner. That was a lot of money in those days and dad was poor, but he said no thank you the dog isn’t for sale.

He was also funny. He had worked along with Uncle George’s pointer and when I would take the shot gun and go after a pheasant he would mimic the pointer. He didn’t have the nose for it, but he would go back and forth until he found a bird then stop and stick that bum leg back like the pointer and wait. The pheasant would fly and I would shoot. If I missed he would turn and look at me as if to say, I found it and you missed?

Uncle Merl was baling hay at our place and had a baler that he pulled behind his tractor. It had its own motor. Some how Pete got caught up in that Baylor and by the time Uncle Merl got off the tractor and shut it down Pete had gone through. He cut the wires and let him out but he came and told me, Keith I think I killed your dog. I took water out to him. He had crawled over in the beet patch where he could get a little shade. He refused food or water for a few days, and then one morning I found him in the hay stack where he usually slept at night.

He lived for many years and was still there when I came home from my first mission but all most blind by then. I would tell him to go get the cows and he would run a little ways and jump into the air. Then run a little another direction and jump in the air. When he finely got close enough to make out a cow he was off on a dead run. At the end he was hit by a beet truck he did not see and was run over.