Doris Rushing, Chief Clerk, Draft Board

I had recently graduated from high school when the Selective Service System required all men 21 and• over to register for the draft. I was one of the many volunteers who helped. The date was October 16, 1940.

About four months later I was hired by the Local Draft Board as a Stenographer. Little did I know at that time that I was starting on a seven year career that would leave emotional scars.

Groveton, Texas is a small East Texas town, the county seat of Trinity County. I had lived there most of my life. The Draft Board for Trinity County was located in the court house in Groveton. It was made up of three members: A Jewish merchant, a banker and my pastor, Rev. W. A. Reagan of First Baptist Church. He was the father of Dr. M. A. Reagan of First Baptist, Dallas. Dr. Reagan taught a men’s bible class in First Baptist Church-Dallas for many years. There was also an appeal agent who was an attorney.

I worked directly under the Chief Clerk who was in charge of the office. My duties, among other things, were mailing out questionnaires to registrants, helping with the files and learning the Rules and Regulations furnished by the Selective Service System. Each man was assigned a Serial Number and an Order Number. The Order Numbers were determined by a national drawing. At that time we had no computers or electric typewriters, but how can you miss what you have never had? From time to time Auditors would visit the office and test us on our knowledge of the Rules and Regulations. They would furnish us with a series of cases and we were required to point out the Regulation that would determine the proper classification.

I was surprised to find that there were many men who were unable to fill out the questionnaires and it became my job to do this for them. Some were unable to read and write and had to sign with an "X". Most of the men in the Groveton area were my friends and neighbors. I found out some interesting things about some of them which were confidential. They still remain so with me over sixty years later. I would ask the questions and record their answers.

The Draft Board had regular meetings and classified each man according to the information in his questionnaire. Each man had the right to meet with the Board and enter an appeal if he chose. Many times I sat in on the meetings and wrote down word-for-word the conversations. (In shorthand if I had time and long hand if I didn't.)

I had always worked under the Chief Clerk, doing what I was instructed and doing my duties as well as I could. I felt no great responsibility. Then there came a time when I was promoted to Chief Clerk and I realized what an awesome responsibility I had. The board relied on me to keep them informed of status changes, those eligible for deferred status and the order in which the next men were to be called for induction. It became a constant concern to me. What if I made a mistake and pulled a file in the wrong order? I would cause a man to be inducted before his time. What if he were killed? Although I was a Christian I had not yet learned to depend on God for help and guidance. I kept reminding myself that the members of the Board were responsible. However they depended on me to keep everything in the proper order and help them with the Rules and Regulations. They trusted me completely.

Recently I was reading a book about Groveton and World War ll. There were forty from that small community who were killed and most were my friends. This did not include those killed in other communities of the county. A great number did not wait to be drafted, preferring to enlist so we had men in all branches of the service. One of the forty who were killed was a woman.

When I received a call for a certain number for induction and had sent out the notices for those next in line, most were patriotic citizens and answered without question. There were just enough who were not to make it difficult. We often received threats and sometimes I was afraid. Once I found at my door a package which contained a bible and a letter. The letter was addressed to the dragon, the beast and the false prophet.

When I received a call I never told anyone outside my office. However, one of the postal workers usually recognized the envelope and spread the word to citizens when they came for mail.

For transportation I chartered busses which left from the town square. Families came to see their men off and it was a very sad time. Townspeople became a problem. They gathered to join in. They caused so much confusion that I began setting the departure time at 4:00 AM. That way only the families were there.

We soon began getting word of those killed in action. Each one meant so much to me. I was a friend and seemed to have had a part. Many were boys who had been my classmates all through school. Toward the end of the war I got word that a boy who sat next to me in the trumpet section of the high school band had been killed on Iwo Jima. I locked my door, turned out the lights and sat there and cried. I felt I could not take it if I got another message.

As I grew older I learned to cope better and seek God's help more. I still remember how it felt to be involved. When I hear a patriotic song or a recording of FDR's December 8 speech I cannot keep back the tears. I can still see those young faces that are frozen in time for me.

There were amusing things that happened at times. It was not all sad. There was the time a woman came into the office and proudly told me her husband was a Buck Private. She wanted to know if she could sign her name: "Mrs. Buck Private."

Then there were some of the young men who came home and were happy to get out of uniform. That was the day of the Zoot Suit. Some could really strut!

It was a rough time for everyone. When people ask me why I never married I often say, "Would you want to marry a girl who sent you to the Army?"

Doris Rushing (Deceased)