Peterson, Jon Richard

English

Iowa Research Online

" (yOutdnt &dy *J ¿carid"
The War Correspondence 
of Luther College’s Student Soldiers
by Jon R ich a rd  P e te rs o n
Into the quiet college town of Decorah, Iowa, came accounts of flushing out Japanese resistance in the South Pacific, liberating a concentration camp in 
Germany, holding the line in an Italian foxhole, and 
transporting troops during the Normandy invasion. 
Decorah was home to Luther College, a small Norwe- 
gian-Lutheran school of about 500 students at the start 
of World War II. By the 1943/44 school year, enrollment 
had plunged to half that. The war had pulled away all 
but 80 of Luther's male students. To boost the morale 
of the college's "student soldiers," history professor 
Chellis Evanson created a newsletter called Scuttlebutt 
for those transplanted from classroom to battlefield.
Evanson had had some experience with the mili­
tary himself. He missed his own graduation ceremony 
from Luther College in 1918 because he had enlisted in 
the navy and was already aboard the USS Pennsylvania. 
Returning to Luther to teach history in 1919, he soon 
became head of the history department and, for a few 
years, dean of men. In 1928 he organized the college's 
news bureau and directed it for the next two decades as 
a sideline.
Former student Weston Noble described the history 
professor as "intelligent, brusque, yet compassionate." 
Always a navy man in his heart, when World War II 
began, Evanson knew that corresponding with soldiers 
was a way of helping with the war effort. He began 
writing letters to naval recruits. This evolved into 
Scuttlebutt and "gradually expanded until it was reach­
ing everyone from Luther in the armed forces," writes 
Luther chronicler David T. Nelson. "It was a cheerful 
sheet with the typical Evanson touch, made possible by 
his singlehanded, devoted efforts." He updated war-
weary soldiers with news from the college and com­
munity. In turn, students wrote to Evanson reporting 
where they were and what they were doing (as the cen­
sors would allow). He then published this information 
in Scuttlebutt, encouraging his readers to watch for other 
Luther alumni stationed nearby.
Luther College's "student soldiers" sent Evanson 
honest and forthright accounts of the battles they fought, 
the countries they passed through, and the world 
changes they witnessed. Today these letters—a sam­
pling of them follows—give voice again to young Iowa 
soldiers spread across the globe sixty years ago.
Perhaps I was a poor student of geography be­cause I never knew that they had a real winter in Africa but I learned the hard way," Bud Eiden 
wrote Evanson from an air base in North Africa in No­
vember 1943. " I came over here without clothes for cold 
weather but now I'm spending my money for winter 
uniforms. . . . Lumber is more precious than gold over 
here. ... I built myself a clothes locker out of ammuni­
tion boxes and it serves the purpose very well. . . . My 
engineer took a five-gallon oilcan and made us a stove 
for the tent. . . . We buy eggs from the Arabs for fifteen 
cents a piece and by carrying bread from the mess hall 
we usually manage to eat a couple of egg sandwiches 
before going to bed. It reminds me of our room up in 
Old Main [at Luther College] which was pretty much 
of a kitchen most of the time. . . . Most of the old pilots 
have finished up and have returned to the States so they 
made me a flight commander and on the next raid they 
have me scheduled to lead the Squadron__I've seen a
190 loica Heritage Illustrated
Ilot of Europe from the air and I'll have a lot of interest­
ing things to tell you when I get home.... I've come to 
the conclusion that this war isn't going to last an aw­
fully lot longer. The news from the Russian front is very 
encouraging and I don't see how Germany will be able 
to stand up forever when the people can't even sleep at 
night.. . .  I've seen the.results of some of this bombing 
and I know what it is. I'm glad the bombs are dropping 
on Germany instead of on the United States."
Don Strom wrote Evanson in mid-March 1944. He 
was in a foxhole in Italy on the day after the bombing of 
Cassino had begun in earnest, and he painted a gritty, 
tense picture of the horrors of war. "I get used to the 
noise, but put that with the ground shaking and trem­
bling and you really have something. I said I got used 
to the noise, that's about half true, you just don't get 
used to it I guess. . . . The one place the army has the 
navy beat and that's when I hear 'Whistling Joe' com­
ing. I have many nice holes to jump into to be truthful 
I'm writing from one of those holes ... it's the same one 
I sleep in. I have really cut quite a figure around here 
running and jumping in these holes.... The only thing 
wrong with my setup in the hole is that it won't stop 
raining. So far I've managed to stay afloat, but I sure 
give the rain a good cussing out. . . . It's been raining 
ever since I came to 'Sunny Italy' last Nov. and it looks 
like it' s never going to stop. .. .  I have had a few shells 
land around me, but no harm was done. In fact I got so 
brave once I had to look out just to see where they were 
busting, I got the look but another 'Whistling Joe' told 
me to get back where I belong. Couldn't say I was scared,
I guess I just stopped living for a while. I kept thinking 
of room 88 in Larsen [on Luther campus] and how nice 
it would be to be back there."
Evanson again heard from Strom two months later. 
Allied planes had dropped more than 2,000 bombs over 
Cassino, and victory there had propelled the Allies north 
toward Rome. Strom's unit was left behind to secure 
the area. "The boys picked up and left us a while back. 
Lulled out of here on the 'Rome special' I guess.... For 
the past three months I've been laying around holes 
sweating things out in general. Mostly working at night, 
as the guys up in the mountaintops didn't like to see us 
boys work during the day. . . . Things have changed in 
this writing though, I can go out and walk around when 
the mood hits me and nothing to worry about. The truth 
of the matter is it's too quiet for any good use. Been so 
used to having things whistling me to sleep, that now, 
being so quiet I find it rather hard to get any sleep at all."
He continued: "I was moping around in the dark 
this certain night in the middle of no place trying to dig 
a foxhole. Digging a foxhole in the pitch dark is really
something. . . .  Just the same I spend most of the night 
sweating it out, as there was so much noise you couldn't 
tell for sure when they threw them back so I just sit out 
there in the middle of the hole just watching what was 
taking place before my eyes and then trying to believe 
it. Never heard so much noise in one place for so long a 
time in my life. I certainly thought that would bring 
out Jerry's air force, if he has any left. I don't see much 
of anything, except our planes and it wouldn't do to 
shoot one of them down. . . .  I don't know if you have 
ever shot at something you can't see, but you know it's 
there."
O peration Overlord, the D-Day invasion of France, set the tone for many of the letters writ­ten by Luther College servicemen stationed 
and fighting in France. Sailor R. G. Roalkvam, who 
wrote Evanson in late August 1944, looked back and 
considered himself lucky: "We had a part in the 'D' Day 
exercises; we took in the initial wave and then stayed a
short distance off shore for 16 days__There was plenty
of stuff coming our way; but thank God! Neither men
nor ship was ever scratched__We have since then had
a few days of rest and relaxation in England; but have 
been along the coast of France on various duties."
Writing from France in August, Norman Selness was 
impressed by the strong spirit there: "We've been here 
for some time taking part in the Brittany Campaign. 
France is a beautiful scenic country, with excellent roads, 
quite heavily wooded, rich agriculturally, and the larger 
towns have elaborate private and public buildings.... 
The French are much as I expected them to be, nation­
alistic and displaying much fervor and enthusiasm . ..
and are happy to be liberated and show it__I'm mighty
anxious to get back—have a nice soft bed, American 
meals and enjoy the niceties of home life again. . . .  It 
will be a task to reorganize Europe to normal socially; 
economically it is awfully disorganized but the French 
have the spirit and determination to again become a 
great France."
"Things are moving rather rapidly these days," F. 
W. Moen wrote in August. "First thing I know I was in 
combat and still am.... Whoever said 'war is hell' and 
'war is a constant state of confusion' certainly said a 
mouthful. One day the monotony of it all practically 
drives a man crazy and the next day you don't know 
whether you will live or die. At any rate, I have received 
my wish and won't have to tell my kids I sat out the 
war in the Quartermaster back in the States. . . .  I like 
France much better than I did England. The people are 
exceptionally hospitable—that no doubt is due in part
Winter 2003 1 91
\
to the fact that they are over-joyed at being liberated 
from the yoke of the Germans. When we go thru a city, 
they line the streets, throwing flowers, food, wine, etc. 
England was O.K. but I detested its climate—France's 
is much similar to Iowa's at least in the summer time."
Weston "Butch" Noble described his own impres­
sions: "Landed in France—using one of the famous 
beaches of 'D' Day. Saw evidence of heavy fighting all 
the way to our camp someplace in Normandy. I wit­
nessed the ruins of Valognes and Monteburg. ... I was 
surprised to see Normandy as backward as it is, the 
house and barn being together in many places, and the 
houses which were all of stone were hundreds of years 
old. . . . The attitude of the French is rather 'cool' to 
Americans. We tore everything to pieces for them, and 
the Germans weren't too rough on them, as they have 
good country in Normandy.... As I progressed toward 
Paris it seemed as if one was coming back into civiliza­
tion. ... On our trip to Belgium, we passed through one 
sector of France on a Sunday afternoon and the recep­
tion we got from the people was most gratifying as they 
threw everything from grapes, apples, turnips, carrots, 
cookies to flowers at us.... We went through one town 
quite late in Belgium, the people getting out of bed to 
stand in the doorway in their nightclothes to wave us 
through. Very encouraging to say the least. Yet 1 was 
quite surprised to see the pro-Nazi element as strong as 
it is in some places."
F rom the Pacific Theater, Chellis Evanson received accounts that were grim and haunting. In Novem­ber, John P. Halvorson described a land battle in 
the South Pacific: "Rode around in a landing craft for 
about five hours before landing watching the Navy
bombard the beach__Knocking out everything on the
beach except those [enemy] which were dug way down 
and there always seem to be some that are. . . . And 
imagination plays so many tricks on you and every little 
noise is [the enemy]. Didn't sleep much—just lay in my 
foxhole and dozed.... Don't believe 1 ever hated to see 
night come so much in my life. ... 1 really understand 
what those pockets of resistance are now.... They hold 
up in a natural bowl which had caves galore and crev­
ices, pinnacles, trees, and have a weapon, ammunition 
or grenades they are satisfied as long as they can get 
plenty of men before they get killed or commit suicide. 
. . . The news is good to hear now with the Philippine 
campaign going well, the Navy running the [enemy] 
home (those that were left), and the European campaign 
still moving if slowly."
Okinawa was the last major land battle of World
War II. Harris Kaasa was in the 7th Division, which ex­
perienced some of the most savage fighting on the is­
land. They faced heavy artillery in early April and early 
May, when he wrote to Evanson. "They stuck me in the 
7th Division, an outfit with a real history (there's that 
word again) that runs from Attu to Kwajalein to Leyte 
and finally this rock, which is a rugged go in any man's 
language. . . . They say this island used to be the 
[enemy's] artillery training ground, and brother I know 
what they mean. We have ducked a few short barrages, 
and it's the most hellish thing I've ever seen. I don't 
think I'll ever forget the devilish screech of those whis­
tlers as they came over they nicked me very slightly 
once, but it was too negligible to even be classed as a 
scratch. Don't guess I ever shook so hard or prayed so 
fast in my life.... Incidentally, I'd like to say right now 
that the doggies up here are great fighting men—you 
can see heroism written in every movement. . . . Thej
boys in these line rifle companies really go in there and 
dig—when they trade grenades with Tojo at 25 paces, 
things get rough.... And when the shells aren't falling 
the green valleys have a queer sort of beauty unlike 
anything I ever saw in the Western World. . . . Never­
theless, the place is American—anywhere you see 
American men and equipment and hear English spo­
ken is American__Once again here's my vote for Uncle
Sammy's foot soldiers . . . and the gallant medics who 
are always on the job."
Nine days later, Kaasa wrote again. Fighting had 
temporarily flowed away from his division, and his 
mood had shifted. "It's quite a relief not to be jumping 
every few minutes. I was getting to the point where I 
would dive headfirst into a hole if a shell hit half a mile 
away. That sounds silly and looked silly as hell but 
brother, 1 take no chances because sometimes they give 
you no warning, zeroing in on the first round. . . . The 
insect situation in the Rhvukus is absolutely un-Ameri­
can. Mosquitoes, eyes glowing with an eerie, inhuman 
light poke their head into your tent and you dive for 
your rifle, thinking it is an infiltrating [Japanese]. The 
fleas, on the other hand, are so minute that you cannot 
detect them."
Back in Europe, Allied forces swept through Ger­
many. In March 1945, Charles Hegtvedt described for 
Evanson what he saw: "We passed through many 
former German cities and towns. I say 'former' for these 
former cities and towns are now reduced to mere mon­
strous piles of rubble, ruin and trash; allied bombings 
over a period of many months, and recent shell and 
small arms fire has been most effective. . . . The non­
fraternization policy is strictly enforced over here so we 
have no contact with German civilians other than in the
192 Icrwa Heritage Illustrated
line of duty.... Due to the obvious shortage of manpower 
most of the field work is being done by women of all 
ages."
The final obstacle in the defeat of Nazi Germany 
was to cross the last natural boundary into greater Ger­
many, the Rhine. Soldier Adolph Fossum described his 
crossing: "Our division made the Rhine crossing via 
glider and parachute and gave the Krauts a very sound 
beating, making up for some of the pushing around it 
got in the Bulge. Airborne operations remind you of the 
[Luther College] Norsemen after they get inspired by 
[Coach] Tip' Qualley and they really know how to fight. 
The best part is that after we have accomplished our 
mission we are usually relieved by the infantry and 
don't have to stay in the line too long although our ca­
sualties are quite heavy during our operations."
Writing in late June from Germany, WestonNoble tried to explain to Evanson his thoughts about what he saw in the Nordhausen Concentration Camp, which he had helped 
liberate. "Many women and children as well as men 
had met their death in this place. We made the citizens 
of the town take each body individually, carry it about 
1.5 to 2 miles, and then bury it. When we could not stand 
it anymore, we made them continue on regardless. . . . 
We can readily see just what was going on here in Ger­
many. The majority of the civilians deny any knowl­
edge of such. . . . The Army of Occupation is not too 
good for the average GI. First of all the present younger 
generation of the German race is not at all high as far as 
morals are concerned because of Hitler's teachings, etc. 
The American soldiers with idle minds and nothing to 
do after hours are falling 'prey' to this, and that plus 
the excessive drinking is going to ruin many American 
soldiers."
Norman Selness's July letter revealed a young man 
attempting to analyze the momentous world-changing 
and life-changing events that he had witnessed. "From 
reports Central Berlin is horrible. Complete destruc­
tion," he wrote. "We hope some good developments will 
come of the Potsdam Conference. . . . American policy 
is too negative especially politically for Europe. Russia 
has taken the lead in matters and from evidence is very 
likeable and an amazing fact about Russia's foreign 
policies, but of course it is to win peoples and countries 
to her side. Our policy is too economic and military sup­
pressive giving the people little to change their voices 
or attitudes except what they catch from contact with 
the American Soldier."
Selness concluded: "Germany youth is healthy and
handsome and even after their defeat Germany cannot 
be ignored as a force in Europe in future years. They 
take great pride in their work. . . .  No doubt, since the 
time of German unification she has made vast strides 
in modern and industrial developments, national unity 
and some respects almost have to admire it. 1 have seen 
a few factories and they are almost models of cleanli­
ness and efficiency. But it is along political and behav­
ioral lines that Germans fall far behind the Western 
world. Her treatment and utter disregard for other na­
tionalities is perhaps the most unjustifiable part of the 
whole system and all thought was held down here too.
... Hitler got in on the hate of the people— it was much 
because of economic conditions and political eyewash 
and promises and Germany being so industrialized face 
conditions similar to the US in 1933. . . . Russians are 
breaking up the estates which should be a good step."
After the war, Chellis Evanson continued teaching 
until retirement in 1966, ending a 47-year career at 
Luther College. Stories still abound of his colorful and 
unorthodox teaching style, and, in the Luther College 
Archives, the letters still exist from the "student sol­
diers" who wrote to him during World War II. Wres­
tling with homesickness and culture shock, and pon­
dering America's place in the world, they told him what 
war was like— frightening, dull, frustrating, and at all 
times educating, as they learned about life, the world, 
and themselves. ❖
Jon Richard Peterson is a graduate student in history at Ohio 
University. This article developed from a longer senior papier 
completed at Luther College in 2002, in which Peterson com­
pared the soldiers' accounts of the war with contemporary ac­
counts by the national media.
NOTE O N  SOURCES
The quotations are from letters in the Chellis Evanson Papers in the Luther College 
Archives. For more on the history o f Luther College, see David Theodore Nelson, 
Luther College, 1861-1961 (Decorah: Luther College Press, 19 6 1), and Leigh D. Jondahl 
and Harris E. Kaasa, Stability and Change: Luther College in Its Second Century (Decorah: 
Luther College Press, 1986).
v Winter 2003 1 93


Couldn\u27t Say I Was Scared\u27: The War Correspondence of Luther College\u27s Student Soldiers

Iowa Heritage Illustrated

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Couldn\u27t Say I Was Scared\u27: The War Correspondence of Luther College\u27s Student Soldiers

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