CLAIRE DUGGER
By Son, Gary

Claire's son, Gary, regretted not having his father's story in the veteran books, but by combining documents and memorabilia, with the addition of his recollection and the coinciding stories of neighbors Jeanne Edwards Winter and brother, the late Marritt Edwards, his dad's story follows:

Services were held at the Murray Church of Christ at 1:30 April 11 with Rev. Randy Allison officiating. Military services were conducted at the Murray Cemetery by American Legion Post 405.

He was preceded in death by both parents and 3 brothers, Ralph, Everett and Donald. He is survived by wife; Arlene; 3 sons, Jerry of Phoenix, Ariz., Gary and Randy of Murray; 1 daughter, Karen Bright and husband Jerry of Reidsville, N. Carolina and 2 grandchildren, Bruce and Dana; 1 brother, Kenneth of Murray; many nieces and nephews. He will be missed by all.

Dad's dad, Albert, was originally from Abingdon, Illinois. They weren't wealthy people but he wanted to farm, so he came to Iowa and rented a farm near Earlham, where Dad was born, the third boy of five. Ralph died of scarlet fever when he was 13. Dad had it but survived. Ralph was the oldest of the boys and Dad had fond memories of him.

In those horse and buggy days, Grandpa moved south of Murray, which-is where my dad, Claire, grew up. He and his three brothers — Ralph, Everett, and Donald — lived a pretty typical farm life. They grew up on 160 acres south of Murray. These were good farms. When Grandpa passed, Kenny, Dad's younger brother got that place and my cousin still owns it. My dad got part of the farm north of Murray, where I still live.

There is a side story that goes along with Dad's growing-up years. Jeanne Winter's parents moved to a farm southwest of Murray and became neighbors of the Duggers in December 1920. She and her brother Marritt Edwards, two of the four Edwards children, sat down together to develop their family's history and it confirms what I also heard from Dad.

This incident sounds like life in "Mayberry," one of my favorite shows. This took place in the days of prohibition but among those who had no intention of complying, was a neighbor, the community's moonshiner, who lived in a building next to a timber. Everybody who lived in the vicinity knew what he was doing, but he was a good neighbor so why bother? "Otis," the town drunk, knew where to find him for his supply but he was not about to snitch. Events, real or improved upon, livened the conversation at (Floyd's) barber shop, so no use to spoil good subject matter by identifying the culprit. Even Sheriff (Taylor) had suspicions and from time to time found and dumped the stills, but their keeper escaped into the timber, later returning to resume his operation.

"Aint Bea" could have been the Indian lady (the cook), whom he referred to as his sister, lived with — let's call him Charlie. When the kids walked past their house on the way to school, she sometimes helped them cross a field where cattle were grazing to protect them from the herd. She also gave them treats like nice apples and cookies.

Living outside the law, Charlie attracted the attention of an outlaw named Hank. No one was sure where Hank actually lived. For the most part, he was on the run. Charlie's place was a convenient stop-over for Hank and his gang as they traveled from Kansas City, Omaha, Minneapolis or Chicago. It was exciting when Hank was around. He drove fast, fancy cars with running boards, and it was not unusual to find one such car stuck on the mud road leading to the farm house. Sometimes they had to use a team of horses to pull it out.

The only time Gary's dad, who was about Opie's age, ever saw Hank, was when he came with Charlie to help Dad's grandfather, Albert Dugger, butcher a sow. They used a single 22 shot rifle to shoot the sow, and Charlie said, "Hank, why don't you show the boys how you can shoot?" There was a Prince Albert tobacco can lying there. Charlie picked it up, threw it in the air, and Hank took the rifle he had never seen before, and shot a hole in it mid-air.

One time Hank told Grandpa, "I've got five jeweled watches to give to your boys when they get older. If you don't take them, they are going in the river tonight." Grandpa thought they probably had knocked over a jewelry store and said, "No." They were outlaws and apparently there wasn't much they wouldn't do. Hank asked Grandpa one time if he would like to see $45,000 he had upstairs in the house. Again Albert said, "No." One day Jeanne and her brother Marritt saw a fellow driving into their yard. He asked their dad if he could dig out an old well, but their dad turned him down, thinking he was probably looking for stolen loot.

Grandpa used to take his fat cattle to St. Jo Stock Yards and he'd ride down on the train with them. On time when he was there, walking down a street, a fancy car pulled up and somebody yelled, "Hey, Dugger, whacha' doin'?" It was Hank and he offered Grandpa a ride, but Dad was sure he didn't take it. They probably felt safe, knowing Grandpa wasn't a snitch. It is possible Grandpa didn't know all their criminal behavior, but at any rate, he never turned them in to the law.

Arlene Dugger's cousin lived north of the school house on a dead-end road. One night they saw a wagon with lanterns go into the timber. It was an unusual sight and nobody ever knew for sure what it was, but the deaf hired man, who was living at Charlie's house, was never seen again.

There was a another story that Charlie received a tip-off the sheriff was coming for him and planning a raid. They took several pair of stolen overalls and other goods and dumped them down a hole in their outhouse. It was one of many stories that made life a little more exciting.

Hank was finally arrested for bank robbery, hand-cuffed and placed in a police car between two officers, somehow he did a back-flip out of the car and started running. The police shot him down. But there was a sequel to Hank's story in the 1970s and '80s. Jeanne's sister found a story in newspaper clippings from a Springfield, Missouri paper, under the headlines, that the next generation "Clan Keeps Police Busy over Two Decades" The article listed the antics of Billy, Larry, Tommy, and Cecil. Even their mother, Sarah, was involved. She was in the car with her son Larry, when he was arrested for bank robbery.

Unlike the Mayberry escapades, the story didn't turn into a series nor were there reruns. It lingers only in the minds of those of Opie's age, many of whom have now passed on.

Dad and his brothers had fun within the law. They trapped skunks or other animals for their fur, which was saleable. One day they found an oxygen or acetylene tank in one of the ditches. They carried it as far as the walkway between the two sides of the corn crib. Grandpa found it and didn't know what to do with it so put it down an old well. He thought it probably had been used to break open safes.

Dad was not a bookish man — a darned good farmer but Grandpa was maybe even better. Dad quit school when he was 16, a sophomore in high school. I'm not sure where all he went. He and his next older brother, Everett, worked some in Illinois where my mom's people lived. And Dad enlisted in the CCCs (Civilian Conservation Corps). It was one of President Franklin Roosevelt's answers to the nation's Depression and came into being on April 7, 1933. He called the 73rd Congress into emergency session on March 9, 1933, to hear and authorize his program. He proposed to recruit thousands of unemployed young men, enroll them into a peacetime army and send them into battle against the destruction and erosion or our national resources.

Before it was over, nearly three million young men engaged in a massive salvage operation destined to become the most popular experiment of the New Deal. It had great public support. Young men flocked to enroll. This young, inexperienced $30 a month labor battalion met and exceeded all expectations. (This was taken from a a newspaper clipping I still have. Dad is shown with five others who were inducted into the CCC in 1934. I feel that it helped prepare him for Army service later. The clipping goes on to report the enrollees improved millions of acres of federal and state lands and parks. New roads were built, telephone lines erected. Over 40,000 illiterates were also taught to read.

Some of the specific accomplishments of the corps during it's existence were 3,470 fire towers erected, 97,000 miles of truck roads; 4,135,000 man-days fighting fires, and more than one billion three million trees were planted,

This event led to WWII, and all able-bodied young men were being drafted. Dad knew his time would come, so he enlisted but didn't tell anyone. Later they sent the sheriff out because he hadn't reported for the draft. Here he already was in, probably in boot camp. I think it might have been in Louisiana. Later he was sent to Camp Davis in North Carolina and was assigned to the 411th AAA anti-aircraft Gun Battalion, a 90-millimeter unit, which had been organized in the fall of 1942. They completed training in 1943, and shipped overseas on January 1, 1944, for the ETO (European Theatre Operations).

They went over on the Queen Mary out of New York harbor. Somehow, while they were in New York, they got into Jack Dempsey's bar and restaurant. Jack Dempsey was widely known as one of the top boxers in the country — maybe in the world. Dad didn't say much about how it all happened, but they were thrown out. However, it was something of a badge of honor to be thrown out of Jack Dempsey's bar and restaurant..

Dad left New York harbor on January 2' and arrived in Scotland six days later. On June 4th they were in the marshaling area near Southampton, England. On D-Day, June 6.1944, the invasion of Normandy took place but Dad did not go in until D-Day + 3, on June 9th, and told us there were still bodies floating around in the channel.

The evening of the first night they were ashore, they were close enough to the fighting they could hear the sounds. Now, Dad had gown up around guns because he and his brothers did a lot of hunting so the enemy's guns didn't frighten him, but he was sitting with guys who had Thompson machine guns — "Tommy Guns," and he wasn't sure but that they might be a little too trigger happy.

While they were in Normandy, they had their guns set up and there wasn't much to do, so Dad went out exploring, as he often did when there wasn't much action going on. He found some abandoned underground Gelman stables and walked in. One thing he told was how perfectly made the horse stables were. He was very impressed by the quality of German craftsmanship. Horse barns in Iowa wouldn't have been nearly as elaborate. He went back and told the officers about them, then went back with them to show where they were. He walked right in and they said, "Wait! How do you know this isn't booby-trapped? We can't go in there." And Dad said, "I've already been there."

On another occasion, they shot down a German plane and saw the pilot had parachuted down. Dad and some of his buddies were in a jeep, found him and took him under control. I think he had a broken leg. The first thing Dad noticed was what a nice wrist watch the Gelman had, and his instinct was, "I should take that," but he didn't. Some MPs showed up and the first thing the MP did was knock the Gelman down and the second was, he took the German's watch and put it in his pocket. It always kind of bothered Dad, who thought he might as well have taken it, and why should the MP have it? I think he was really glad he hadn't because it wasn't his.

I am not sure of all the places they went, even though my sister, Karen, studied the records and gave each of us a copy. I know they were in the Battle of the Bulge. He didn't say much about that or what they went through, but Olin Reasoner's story tells about how bitterly cold it was. We just recently had bitter cold but stayed warm in heated houses, and had proper clothes if it was necessary to go out. It is almost more than I can imagine that these fellows were fighting for their lives in such cold, with inadequate uniforms and none of the necessities or luxuries we take for granted. Many of the fellows had frozen extremities — some lost their feet.

I know their first entry into Germany was March 8, 1945. I remember he mentioned being in Cologne and I have a picture of their cathedral. It had somehow survived. They were in Luxenbourg and Saarburg, Germany; but at that time the Germans were collapsing and the 411th were on their heels. They were not "on the front line," sometimes they were ahead of it. But one thing I never heard from Dad or any veteran was their bragging about what they had done. It was the worst horror imaginable and their hope was to forget it. They talked among themselves more than to anyone else. Only ones who had been there could understand.

But beyond all else, the absolute worst was at the end of the war, Dad was in the first unit to go into the Dauchau German Concentration Camp north of Munich, Bavaria. It was opened early in 1933, and functioned as a detention and forced labor camp until it was liberated in 1945. This was not a Jewish annihilation camp we have heard and read about. These incarcerated were Germans opposed to Hitler and his Third Reich, any who were potential trouble-makers to the Nazis. Dad and those with him saw skeletons, very possibly of men starved to death. They had been stacked like cord-wood. He remembered a building where they had tall glass jars of formaldehyde with human organs in them. Somebody smashed a couple of them and the stink was something else. There was evidence of several German SS guys who had evidently decided to fight their way in and take over, but they were captured by the inmates and killed. I have pictures Dad brought back of them in their uniforms, lying dead. I have one of a crematorium where bodies were burned .

Dad's unit took people from town and made them walk through it. Some of them may have known or been relatives of the victims. That had to be the most horrifying situation there ever was for the Germans but I don't know how any who were involved on either side kept their sanity. I am not surprised our fellows went a little bonkers when the war actually was over. Dad told about one night when they were in Luxembourg. They had been drinking and goose-stepping like the Germans, and went right through a picture window. He and his buddy saw a family who had a pretty young girl. His buddy had ideas of having fun with her but Dad wouldn't tolerate it.

Another time Dad was exploring the country-side in France, and came upon a canal. Dad started fishing and a Frenchman berated him in French. "No, no, no," letting him know he was not allowed to fish there. Then he saw Dad's machine gun and decided to leave him alone. Dad used to keep two pistols, one loaded the other not. When he was visiting with someone he kept the unloaded one in plain sight, the loaded one he kept handy but not obvious. He was a farm guy and wanted to make sure which side they were on.

At the end of the war, they had thousands of German prisoners to transport from one place to another. They sent Dad in a big old truck, a deuce and a half, I think they called them. He went to the POW camp to load up and there was one German officer in the back of the truck — just one. He said, "I drove all the way over there — a long drive over bad roads — and I'm only going to take one guy?" It was according to Geneva Convention Rules. Typical military "efficiency." As they were going along, every time he would see the fellow stand up, Dad would hit the brakes and he'd sit down. When they got to where they were going and unloaded him, they began talking. The guy could speak the English very well, and before he left, Dad got to liking him. It was just guy to guy conversation. Dad said, "He was just like me — just another guy who probably didn't want to be where he was any more than I did. At that point the war was over.

Karen's book has many more details which the family treasures and will be forever grateful. I will not duplicate them here. She has copies of commendations Dad received as part of the 411th Gun Battalion. One was by Edward J. Umphred titled "The Best in the ETO." Excerpts are: "One of the very first heavy-gun battalions to land in Normany... Participating in the Rhine River crossing and the Battle of Germany, the Battalion lived up to its motto 'Until the Final Gun' by shooting down four enemy aircraft on the final day of the war May 8, 1945. The 411th, in continuous action from its landing in Normandy, won four campaign awards. It was also decorated by the French government with the Croix de Guerre with silver palms for its achievement of destroying a total of 67 confirmed enemy planes."

The high degree of efficiency of these Antiaircraft Artillery units contributed immeasurably to the overall success of the Third Army operations by permitting an uninterrupted flow of vital traffic which was necessary for the rapid advance of this command. The loyalty, enthusiasm and extreme devotion to duty of every individual of these units exemplifies the highest traditions of the Armed Forces of the United States.

Dad was discharged Oct. 31st, 1945, and returned home. We don't know all the memories he brought back with him but the items he brought back were a parachute and Walters Model PP pistol, a dagger, and a commando dagger, sharpened on both sides and with a metal handle. Someone stole the pistol but I've bought a couple and gave them to my brothers. That ended the war stage of Dad's life.

Dad returned to farm near Murray. The ruling was that jobs service men or women had when they left to serve their country would be theirs when they returned. In Dad's case, he could have had his farm back, but he didn't want to push anybody out. Grandpa found him a place north of Murray, which is where I grew up and where I still live.

Dad and Mom, Arlene Bacon, were married in 1945, and over the years had four children — three boys — Jerry, Randy, and me, and our sister, Karen. My two brothers are in Jacksonville, Florida, working at the Naval Air Station. Jerry is in the Air Force and worked in Arizona, building pipe lines. He was in the service over six years.

Mom was at home being a farmer's wife and mother to us kids as we were growing up. Later she worked as a homemaker for an agency that provided the service. Elva Downing remembers her well and said she was extremely dedicated to her job. She loved every person she worked for as she did her own family. There was a time when the work became more rules-regulated. One of them was they were not to get on a ladder but one day Elva and a co-worker left to have lunch and looked back to see her on a ladder washing the outside of windows. They didn't ever report her. Mom died in 2007.

None of us boys married. My sister Karen married and lives in Burlington, N.C. She has two children and now grandchildren. One of her sons, Bruce Bright, was on the Enterprise when 9/11 happened. They were on the east side of Africa, headed back to Norfolk, VA after 6 months deployment. They heard about the tragedy from television reports, and Bruce said as they watched, "We could feel the carrier turning around." They returned to the Gulf from where they had come and spent two weeks doing nothing. He was overseas when Mom died in 2007, and he wasn't able to come home. My Dad's mom died in 1943, while Dad was in England. It always bothered him but by the time he'd have gotten back she was already buried.

Dad died in 1979. As is evident from his obituary, he lived a productive life. It seemed like his life was one of service to the country in the war, and to the community by being on the school board, an active member of the American Legion, and as a trustee in Troy Township as long as he lived. I miss him and Mom a lot!

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