thedrifter
10-24-07, 08:01 AM
Reminiscing about her service in WWII
Even 57 years later, Helen Hogge Rooks still gets excited about her Coast Guard experience
Published Thursday October 18 2007
By DAN HILLIARD
dhilliard@beaufortgazette.com
843-986-5531
In some ways, being a woman was the hardest part of Helen Hogge Rooks' Coast Guard service during World War II.
"There were about 500 sailors lined up on the beach ready to be deployed, and they were hollering and carrying on," she said. "I had to walk in front of them and listen to all their catcalls. That was pretty debilitating."
Rooks, a Beaufort native who turned 90 last week, still wears a golden Coast Guard pendant to remind herself of her time in uniform, she said.
Rooks signed up with the Coast Guard in 1943 at age 23. Her brothers, Tom and Jim Hogge, had been drafted into the Navy to fight across China, Burma and India.
"I thought, 'Well, what the heck -- there's nothing keeping me.' I loved the uniform, and I wanted to do something," Rooks said.
Her parents were supportive, if a little apprehensive, she said.
"Momma didn't care," Rooks said. "Daddy, me being his little girl and all, frowned on it. I still had mud on my shoes and oyster shell cuts on my feet."
Rooks' new husband, Milton Rooks, struggled to talk her out of her enlistment before he was deployed to the South Pacific.
"Oh, he didn't like it a bit," she said. "He tried to get his mom to get a petition together to get me out. But it didn't work. I didn't lay eyes on him for three years."
Excitement trailed Rooks to her headquarters in Miami from day one, she said.
After enlisting, Rooks caught a midnight train from Charleston to Miami. En route, the train struck a cow. Hooves and splintered glass flew inches past her face, Rooks said.
Days after arriving in Miami, Rooks and her fellow Coast Guard cadets were drilling on a beach when a fight broke out between German submarines and U.S. sentry ships. "We watched the ships burn on the horizon," she said. "The next day, when we drilled on the beach, we saw all kinds of flotsam and jetsam come floating in. The beach was covered in tar."
Later, she accompanied her rescue unit commander as secretary on a patrol boat. A captain gave the Coast Guard girls a stern warning before they left dock.
"He said, 'If you throw up on this boat, when we get back to base, you're going to have to clean it up yourself.' I got sick for three or four days, but I wouldn't tell anyone."
Though married, Rooks said she frequently was a target for lonely Marine sentries. She wasn't alone. More than 200 female Coast Guard recruits showed up for each class.
"All those boys that were doing sentry duty were veterans of Guadalcanal," she said. "They were just kids. When we were growing up, we were hardly allowed to look at one. Beaufort girls just didn't go with Marines."
The Marines did their best to get her attention, however, Rooks said.
"Oh hells, you know they did," she said. "And I accepted some of them, too. I loved to dance. I'd go out to the beach and stuff like that. I wish I had the hair I had back then."
Some of the best times Rooks had in Miami were spent hunkered down in rickety search-and-rescue planes.
"They were rough riders," she said. "You knew you were up there. But it was so thrilling to go up over the ocean and see them pick those boys up out of the drink."
Some plane rides were less pleasant. On a return trip to Miami from Jacksonville, Fla., Rooks was chartered to fly on an admiral's plane transporting the bodies of two sailors killed by a plane crash.
"It was a beautiful thing," she said. "It was all in silver and blue leather. But you could smell that burned flesh. Oh, it was awful."
World War II's end sent Rooks home to Beaufort, where she was reunited with her husband. It was a near miss, she said.
"The day that the war ended, they had already cut orders to send us girls to Alaska," she said. "But they canceled them, and I didn't get to go. That was a big disappointment."
Milton passed away in 1991 after 53 years of marriage. She now has one son, one grandchild and one great-grandchild living in Albany, Ga.
Her son, Milton Jr., followed in his mother's footsteps by becoming an Army reserve officer for six years.
Immediately post-war, Rooks worked briefly in a Veteran's Administration office interviewing aid candidates.
Her service gave her a unique kinship with the candidates, she said.
"I didn't appreciate the remarks of people who didn't serve," she said. "It disturbed me that people were not as concerned as they should be for those boys, who came back so mentally and physically hurt."
Though she's no longer active with the American Legion, Rooks volunteers with the Child Abuse Prevention Association.
At her age, Rooks is just glad to serve in any way possible, she said.
When she's feeling wistful about her Coast Guard service, Rooks said she takes out an envelope full of her commendations and souvenirs.
There's a couple of cartoons in there drawn by the Miami base's postmaster general.
In the cartoons, Rooks is either riding a donkey and waving a Confederate flag or charging Japanese pillboxes with a bayonet behind Gen. Robert E. Lee.
The lone Southerner in her outfit, Rooks was frequently the butt of jokes, she said.
"I was the only Southerner in the whole group, and I took a lot of flak from those Yankees over that," she said. "All those people just rode me to death."
Also in the envelope is a citation proclaiming Rooks as a charter member of the Women in Military Service for America, which was honored in 1997 with a memorial at Arlington National Cemetery.
But her favorite tie to the past is a letter from former South Carolina Gov. Olin Johnston. The letter thanks all female World War II volunteers for sacrifices above and beyond liberty gardens and pantyhose restrictions.
The letter reads, in part: "You are doing the utmost that can be asked of a woman, therefore I know you would be willing to do even more if possible."
Though Rooks has given away her old uniform, she tries to carry herself as if it still rests on her shoulders, she said.
"It's the most wonderful thing a person can do."
Ellie
Even 57 years later, Helen Hogge Rooks still gets excited about her Coast Guard experience
Published Thursday October 18 2007
By DAN HILLIARD
dhilliard@beaufortgazette.com
843-986-5531
In some ways, being a woman was the hardest part of Helen Hogge Rooks' Coast Guard service during World War II.
"There were about 500 sailors lined up on the beach ready to be deployed, and they were hollering and carrying on," she said. "I had to walk in front of them and listen to all their catcalls. That was pretty debilitating."
Rooks, a Beaufort native who turned 90 last week, still wears a golden Coast Guard pendant to remind herself of her time in uniform, she said.
Rooks signed up with the Coast Guard in 1943 at age 23. Her brothers, Tom and Jim Hogge, had been drafted into the Navy to fight across China, Burma and India.
"I thought, 'Well, what the heck -- there's nothing keeping me.' I loved the uniform, and I wanted to do something," Rooks said.
Her parents were supportive, if a little apprehensive, she said.
"Momma didn't care," Rooks said. "Daddy, me being his little girl and all, frowned on it. I still had mud on my shoes and oyster shell cuts on my feet."
Rooks' new husband, Milton Rooks, struggled to talk her out of her enlistment before he was deployed to the South Pacific.
"Oh, he didn't like it a bit," she said. "He tried to get his mom to get a petition together to get me out. But it didn't work. I didn't lay eyes on him for three years."
Excitement trailed Rooks to her headquarters in Miami from day one, she said.
After enlisting, Rooks caught a midnight train from Charleston to Miami. En route, the train struck a cow. Hooves and splintered glass flew inches past her face, Rooks said.
Days after arriving in Miami, Rooks and her fellow Coast Guard cadets were drilling on a beach when a fight broke out between German submarines and U.S. sentry ships. "We watched the ships burn on the horizon," she said. "The next day, when we drilled on the beach, we saw all kinds of flotsam and jetsam come floating in. The beach was covered in tar."
Later, she accompanied her rescue unit commander as secretary on a patrol boat. A captain gave the Coast Guard girls a stern warning before they left dock.
"He said, 'If you throw up on this boat, when we get back to base, you're going to have to clean it up yourself.' I got sick for three or four days, but I wouldn't tell anyone."
Though married, Rooks said she frequently was a target for lonely Marine sentries. She wasn't alone. More than 200 female Coast Guard recruits showed up for each class.
"All those boys that were doing sentry duty were veterans of Guadalcanal," she said. "They were just kids. When we were growing up, we were hardly allowed to look at one. Beaufort girls just didn't go with Marines."
The Marines did their best to get her attention, however, Rooks said.
"Oh hells, you know they did," she said. "And I accepted some of them, too. I loved to dance. I'd go out to the beach and stuff like that. I wish I had the hair I had back then."
Some of the best times Rooks had in Miami were spent hunkered down in rickety search-and-rescue planes.
"They were rough riders," she said. "You knew you were up there. But it was so thrilling to go up over the ocean and see them pick those boys up out of the drink."
Some plane rides were less pleasant. On a return trip to Miami from Jacksonville, Fla., Rooks was chartered to fly on an admiral's plane transporting the bodies of two sailors killed by a plane crash.
"It was a beautiful thing," she said. "It was all in silver and blue leather. But you could smell that burned flesh. Oh, it was awful."
World War II's end sent Rooks home to Beaufort, where she was reunited with her husband. It was a near miss, she said.
"The day that the war ended, they had already cut orders to send us girls to Alaska," she said. "But they canceled them, and I didn't get to go. That was a big disappointment."
Milton passed away in 1991 after 53 years of marriage. She now has one son, one grandchild and one great-grandchild living in Albany, Ga.
Her son, Milton Jr., followed in his mother's footsteps by becoming an Army reserve officer for six years.
Immediately post-war, Rooks worked briefly in a Veteran's Administration office interviewing aid candidates.
Her service gave her a unique kinship with the candidates, she said.
"I didn't appreciate the remarks of people who didn't serve," she said. "It disturbed me that people were not as concerned as they should be for those boys, who came back so mentally and physically hurt."
Though she's no longer active with the American Legion, Rooks volunteers with the Child Abuse Prevention Association.
At her age, Rooks is just glad to serve in any way possible, she said.
When she's feeling wistful about her Coast Guard service, Rooks said she takes out an envelope full of her commendations and souvenirs.
There's a couple of cartoons in there drawn by the Miami base's postmaster general.
In the cartoons, Rooks is either riding a donkey and waving a Confederate flag or charging Japanese pillboxes with a bayonet behind Gen. Robert E. Lee.
The lone Southerner in her outfit, Rooks was frequently the butt of jokes, she said.
"I was the only Southerner in the whole group, and I took a lot of flak from those Yankees over that," she said. "All those people just rode me to death."
Also in the envelope is a citation proclaiming Rooks as a charter member of the Women in Military Service for America, which was honored in 1997 with a memorial at Arlington National Cemetery.
But her favorite tie to the past is a letter from former South Carolina Gov. Olin Johnston. The letter thanks all female World War II volunteers for sacrifices above and beyond liberty gardens and pantyhose restrictions.
The letter reads, in part: "You are doing the utmost that can be asked of a woman, therefore I know you would be willing to do even more if possible."
Though Rooks has given away her old uniform, she tries to carry herself as if it still rests on her shoulders, she said.
"It's the most wonderful thing a person can do."
Ellie