When we took off on our “Safari” we usually headed westward toward Grandpa Caywood’s pasture as Knobby zigzagged in front of me. He did this to cover more territory and not miss a scent on the “Trek of our dreams”—hunting skunks and possums. Skunks were our priority as they brought more money to fill my empty pockets. Knob without question checked every hole he found in the ground and some that he had checked previously. You never knew when a new skunk or possum family might move in.

When we got close to Grandpa’s place, the persimmon and pear trees were checked out for possums first. Possums usually ate their pears and persimmon fruit after dark then rested there afterwards. Sometimes you could find them in the trees in the day time if they got hungry enough. Knob usually gave a couple of barks if he spotted a possum in a tree eating lunch. The possums would sit in the tree giving old Knob the old “evil eye” and growling as if to say, “You snitched on me.”

At night, I carried one of Dad’s Gunny sacks because Knob sometimes treed possums in plural.

We often found possums in groups. Many times they could be found north of our farm on Ralph Connery’s pasture where there were a lot of streams, timber, and Hack Berry and Persimmon trees.

When my school friend and neighbor, Jack Riley, old Knob and I hunted together we found an abundance of possums on the old Connery place.

Jack and I hunted together quite often after Jack found out what a good hunting dog Knobby was. He was amazed at how disciplined old Knob was on those hunts.

Many years later Jack told me how much he loved going on our hunts with Knobby on the job. Jack told me that his old dog was too lazy to hunt.

On one of our hunting trips, old Knobby went over to the west part of the Hendricks’ half section where there used to be a house and outbuildings back in the trees. Grandpa Caywood had once told me about a family who lived there when he and Grandma moved onto the School quarter. He mentioned them by name. I have forgotten it now, but it could have been Avery.

There were dilapidated pieces of horse drawn machinery that was left there and the remains of the house foundation. Just east of that was an old topless root cellar. On the east side of the cellar was a big Elm tree with exposed roots. Knobby was sniffing around the roots and found a hole.

Knobby always gave a bark or two to let me know he had found “Hot” spots. He would bark then stand there looking at the hole then look toward me to see if I heard him bark and was coming. If I said, “Sic Em,” he would get those little paws busy making the dirt fly. It was funny to see how vigorously he worked. He made the dirt fly out behind his two short, rear legs. Then he would lie over on his side to dig out the top or hard places of the hole.

As soon as soon he got deep enough, you would hear a strange growl. Knobby would back up and give me that, “I found him… now what?” I told Knob, “I am not sticking my hands in there, you bring him out.” Sometimes if things were right, I would bring the varmint out if I could get him by the tail. Not this time, that possum was face to face with Knob. Somehow Knob brought him out without getting bitten as he had been before.

When Knob got down to a skunk in a hole, he pulled him out by the tail. Sometimes though, it didn’t work if the skunk got a foothold on a root. That was when I called Knob back and got the skunk out myself. I did not want Knob to damage the skunk’s tail, since I would be docked on the price of fur if the tail was damaged.

Knob and I worked as a team on those hunts. There were many times when Knob pulled a skunk from its den while the skunk got its revenge.

Knob always waited until I put the skunk in “la-la” land before he would start his removal of “Skunk Perfume.” He would lie down on his belly and go nose first rolling in the dirt or grass to remove the scent. I really felt sorry for him because he was doing all of this to please me.

This happened too often and I knew it could not go on forever. I did not want to blind my dog. Sometimes I took a shovel along with me, and sometimes I did try traps, but that ruined the thrill of the hunt.

I always rewarded Knobby by sneaking things out of the kitchen when Mom wasn’t looking. Knob would even eat onions if I offered them to him. Dad told me that dogs would sometimes eat anything if they thought you wanted them to.

Every time I went out to bring in the milk cows in the evening to be relieved of the pressure of milk in their udders, I stuffed my pockets with crackers and other snacks for Knobby and me.

Sometimes Old Knobby and the old Bull did not see eye to eye. We often kicked up a Jack Rabbit. Knobby would give me that look as to ask, “I am not supposed to chase that rabbit now am I?”

Knobby and I had our favorite hunting haunts; The Connery, Hendricks and Water’s farms and one place north of the Winter’s place. At times we would go as far as the Smith and Mc Bride places close to the Alfalfa County line.

One time we hunted a 160 acre pasture south of the road of Walt Arnolds. We ran into an old stone bridge east on that place. We never did figure that one out and besides Knob told me there was nothing under it when he checked it out.

We went on past “Old Lady Mac’s.” We just sort of snuck by because she had a bunch of old trail hounds.

We then went on north of Mrs. Mc Reynold’s, a road that was not used anymore—a lot like the closed north and south road west and of Grandpa Caywood. There seemed to be a good chance of Knob detecting something on this obsolete road, but we were mistaken.

I detected something very unusual on the high point of the west side of the road. Walking by normally one would not notice it, but something caught the corner of my left eye. I looked closer and saw an iron rail fence in the tall weeds above Knobby and me.

I called to Knob who had gotten ahead of me doing his “zigzag” search from one side of the road to the other. He looked back to see me climbing up the high hill to where I spotted the iron rails.

When I reached the top I saw four or five tall tombstones with the iron rail encircling the stones. The stones must have been a family plot of ones who had homesteaded there in the 1890’s perhaps after the Cherokee Strip opening. I could still read the names and dates on the stones, but have long since forgotten them.

When I got home I told Dad of my find. He said he did not have a clue they were there, but he showed an interest. Mom’s question was, “Why were you that far away from home?” She never did know that Knobby and I had gone as far as the Alfalfa County line. Gordon Smith and his Mother Margaret who lived close to the line were not home when I knocked on their door, so we walked on. I thought about going on to the Ward’s place, but Mrs. Ward had a blind daughter and I thought they had strange ways. I didn’t know them that well and I thought Mrs. Ward might have a gun. But I had my gun for skunk defense.

One late evening, Jack Riley came over to our house. It was not quite dark yet, and he said, “Why don’t we go out hunting?” Jack said that sometimes just before a storm is a good time to find something. I said, “Ok, that was fine with me.” Any time was OK with old Knob. So off went the three of us toward Grandpa Caywood’s farm. After making a pass by Grandpa’s persimmon trees by the pond we headed to the water spring and trees onto Connery’s pasture. This pasture once belonged to Grant Goldy.

Knob was on scout duty ahead of us when we heard his bark; we located him by his bark. He was standing in the pitch dark by a persimmon tree that was loaded with fruit as well as possums who were consuming them. We shined our flashlights toward the tree and saw many possum eyes gleaming back at us all lighted up.

We began pulling possums out of the tree like picking apples. We got three possums apiece to put in our Gunny sacks. The other trees did not even have one possum in them. Maybe this tree had better tasting fruit.

We went on from there to the Winter’s place then toward our West, but did not find anything there. A storm was brewing in from the north; Jack said we might as well call it quits and go home. Just as soon as we got back to Highway #11, we heard old Knob who was way ahead of us give his usual bark when he found something. It was so dark we could not see him, but we followed the sound of his barking. He was barking so intently I knew that he had found a real catch.

Knob was telling us in dog language, “Get your butts over here now, I have found the “Jackpot.” After we crossed the fence onto Highway #11 and walked east, a couple of yards short of where Grandpa Caywood’s farm was located, we shined our flashlights to where we heard Knobby’s barking. There was a culvert under the highway almost covered with dirt and Knob was standing in front of the north end.

We knelt down on the ground and looked under that end as we shined our flashlights inside, only to find several pairs of shining eyes looking back at us. The dirt had washed quite a way into the culvert from previous rains so we went to the south side to find the long culvert wide open. We knew Knob had located a nest of skunks, but most were huddled at the north end. Knob watched every move we made thinking, “What next?”

Jack suggested that we build a fire at the north end to smoke them out since the wind was coming from the north because of the approaching storm. We located an old fence post and Jack started a fire from some loose dead grass to smoke the varmints out.

I stood guard at the south end to clobber any skunks trying to escape for a breath of air. Jack fanned the smoke and hollered, “Have any come out yet?” I told him, “Not yet!” Knob knew what we were trying to do because he stood by me and watched as I held my club in wait. Nothing was happening. The skunks had not moved at all, but they surely stirred up one big stink. We shined our flashlights into the hole again and could still see skunks. “Now what?”

Jack said the only way was to get them out was to run some barbed wire inside and drag them out one by one to the south end. I asked Jack, “Where are we going to get enough wire to reach all of the way to the north end?” Jack said, “When we crossed the fence on the Winter’s place one strand of wire was loose.” So while I held the flashlight Jack removed what barbed wire we needed from the fence. Knob was running back and forth while we were getting ready to extract his big find.

I went back to my batting station with my fence post and Knob went to his station as he was not going to miss all of the excitement that was prevailing. Jack squatted down and twisted the wire all of the way to the nest of skunks. Soon after he said, “I got one.”

As he pulled out the first one, I was ready to whack him when Jack said, “He is dead.” They asphyxiated on the smoke and skunk fumes. We pulled a total of 22 skunks out of the culvert. Most all of them were dead and the rest almost. They were sent on an eternal vacation by my fence post club. It was then that Jack said, “I believe we have met our quota for tonight.” Now we had to make a decision as what to do with this great big pile of dead skunks. We decided to bury them and come back the next evening and process them. We had to go to school the next morning.

We filled our gunny sacks full of our bounty and lugged them as far as the west pasture meadow on Dad and Mom’s place. I went home to get a shovel so we could bury our catch on the east end of the meadow.

The next evening after school Jack and I dug them up and skinned them. It was almost dark when we finished. I was almost worn out over that “deal” of twenty two Skunks plus the six possums we got earlier. Jack remarked, “That little dog surely earns his keep doesn’t he?”

I told Jack I did not have much space to hang and cure so many hides as I already had several hides hanging in the granary. (This granary used to be one of two turkey brooders that we once lived in while our new home was being built.) Jack said he could take some or all. I settled on all because Jack shipped his and mine to the Taylor Fur Co. in St Louis, MO.

One time the cats got into the granary and ate on the bottom of some of my hides. I was almost sick when I found what they had done. I felt like I would like to decrease the cat population at that time. Jack came by the next evening and sized up the damage and told me all was not lost because they would still sell with a dock in price. I felt much better because Knobby and I had worked hard to get those hides, especially Knobby.

Size didn’t make a difference with Knobby. He latched onto that snake about 10 inches below his head and shook the daylights out of him. The snake went into a defense mode and started coiling himself around Knob from above his tail to his neck. Then that snake started tightening up on Knobby squeezing the breath out of him. I stepped in, grabbed the snake behind his head and stepped my foot on his body until I got him loose from Knobby. I know Knob was trying to protect me but that snake would soon have killed him. This all happened in just a few minutes. Earlier times, Knob had attacked smaller snakes, shook them senseless and then chomped down on their heads to finish them off, even some rattlers.

One other time, Knob attacked a smaller bull snake but he grabbed it in the middle of his body and the snake coiled around and bit Knob in his thigh. His whole back leg swelled and that was the first I knew that a bull snake could harm a person or dog with its bite. Knob laid around for a day or so after the snake bite before he was back to himself. After that episode, Knob learned to grab a snake a few inches from its head before shaking it.

In 1937, Knob almost met his demise when Oklahoma had a rabbit plague. Our farm, as well as others, was overrun with rabbits. The rabbits were extremely destructive. They ate young trees and nearly annihilated Dad’s fruit trees. They stripped the bark off to eat because they lacked food.

Dad wrapped the trunks with rags to save them. The county federal law decided to allow the farmers to use strychnine, a deadly poison, to eradicate them. Dad used stalks of sorghum/maize heads dipped in the poison solution and scattered some of the poisoned grain in the fields after shutting our horses Tom and Kate and the cattle up in the pasture. The rabbits were there too, so he had to put the cattle and horses in the corral until the rabbit kill was over.

Dad did not realize I had overheard him. Mom said, “I will do what I can.” She went to the house and came back with a big spoonful of lard in a bowl and some powdered sulfur. She told me go to the hen house for eggs. She then mixed the concoction and tried to feed a spoonful to Knobby. We could not get his mouth open because he had it shut so tight. Mom tried and I tried but we both failed. We finally had to use a screwdriver to pry Knob’s mouth open. Thankfully, it was just enough to stuff some of the concoction down his throat. Mom just kept cramming it down him. I recall giving up and Mom said, “If that does not work, nothing will.” I am not certain now, but I think we left him alone to either get well or to die. I remember that I kept returning to him to see how he was doing. After a few times of going back to check on Knobby, I could tell he was more relaxed. Some of the time, I was not sure whether he was dead or alive. Then finally I heard him whimper and saw him trying to raise his head; only then did I have hopes he would make it. Lois and Lila went with me on some of the checks. He was immobile for a while, but we fed him milk, cream and eggs to help rid his body of the poison. Knobby was nine years old when he recovered from this near-death situation. He was one tough little dog. He just was not yet ready for Doggy Heaven.

At this time the fur industry was on the rise and meant more skunk and possum hunting for Knobby and me. I wondered back then why they could not put a demand on skunk scent pouches, they could have ended the war by loading the B-19’s with skunk scent Bombs and have ended the war a lot quicker by dropping the scent bombs on Berlin and Tokyo, also saving lives by making one hell of a big stink >smile<.

About the time Hitler was tearing up Europe and sending Buzz Bombs over London for the softening up future takeover, Knob and I were continuing our fur expeditions. We stopped to see Grandpa and Grandma Caywood as we headed up to the west end of the Connery place. We mainly stopped to warm up. Grandma said, “Things are looking bad for England; Hitler keeps dropping all of those “Bums” over there.” I swore I heard a strange chuckle when I looked down at Knob while he was warming up near Grandma’s wood cook stove. >smile<

I always got a kick out of some of Grandma’s Irish. Grandma liked Knob and the only reason Knob got to come in the house was because Grandpa was outside tending the livestock on that cold cloudy day.

After getting away from my lonely Granny, Knob and I went up the steep hill north of the house and crossed the fence onto the Connery pasture. I had my rifle with me this time. As we crossed over the fence and walked about ten feet, we heard a strange swishing noise overhead. I looked up and Knob stopped his usual sniffing and looked up too. It looked like a dark oblong object sailing through the air to the northwest about 50 or more feet up. It disappeared over the hill before us.

We both had stopped to look, but Knob went back to his job sniffing in a zigzag line. For a minute I thought the object might be one of the “Buzz Bums” Grandma spoke of. I made a beeline run to the other side of the hill but saw nothing. Not long after this Grandma had her “bad spell” in 1941; she became bedfast and Grandpa was more or less confined to the house to care for her.

FDR was in the White House trying his best with the Fireside Chats. At first he told the people, “We are not going to war.” Then later he said, “War is inventible.”

On December 7, 1941, Knob and I decided to go on another big hunt. It was cloudy but not very cold and we went by the long, tree-lined driveway to Grandpa’s house. As we neared the south side of the house Grandpa must have seen us from his east window, he met me outside to tell us the Japs had bombed Pearl Harbor. I asked him, “Where is that?” He replied, “In Hawaii.” That was one time I felt I was not near as good in geography as I thought I was. I always got good grades in History and Geography at school.

Grandpa and I talked about the bombing for a while until he needed to get back to Grandma. After Grandpa went back in the house Knob was sitting there and I know he was wondering, “What are we waiting for, we have a full day ahead?” This news troubled me somewhat, but Knob and I went on to do what we started out for.

Our little hunt was futile; we didn’t find a thing. Knob sensed something was bothering me as he would run a little way ahead of me and stop to look back to see if I was still coming. I will admit the war in Europe and South Africa did bother me a lot. Even when we worked out in the field behind horses disking or on the knife sled, Knobby always stayed near me sniffing around.

Sometimes I drove the horses up to the trees when I was working in the field next to Grandpa’s farm. I let the horses eat the leaves while Knob and I slipped off for a quick swim in Grandpa’s spring fed pond. Knob was always first to jump in and lapped up the cool water. Both of us skinny dipped.>smile<

One of those days we slipped away; Dad came walking in and caught both of us in the pond. Knob ran out to meet him and left me to do all of the explaining as to why we were there in the pond and not in the field. Dad sort of grinned and said, “Now I know why it was taking you so long in that small field.” Dad walked away saying nothing more.

I have always recalled that day that Dad walked away from Knob and me in the pond without a stern reprimand. Most likely, it was because of something he might have done on a hot day when he was a young boy.

By 1942, Knob and I found ourselves alone on our skunk adventures. Jack had disappeared in the Army. Knob and I really missed our hunting buddy. Jack and I became close friends from our hunts together.

One day my cousin: Vernon Caywood showed up from Clinton, OK in his twin engine Navy bomber. He was on some military maneuver. He came to our farm to greet us by making a big circle over our farm. He came from the east and made a big swoop over our driveway toward the house.

Knob and I happened to be walking home by way of the farm to Market road and entered the driveway when we heard this big roar from behind us. It was a bomber coming over our heads. Knob was just a few feet ahead and just leisurely trotting along. We both looked up as it passed over us. Knob actually ran trying to keep up with what he must have thought was an overgrown buzzard. He gave chase, not taking kindly to this intruder overhead He stumbled nose first into the dirt, while looking up. He must have thought it was after Moms chickens.

Mom had a flock of flighty Leghorn chickens and they were scattering every direction. Meanwhile, Dad was working in the north field when Vernon made a pass over him. Dad said it was all he could do to keep the horses in line. Knobby had almost gone nuts, circling with excitement about the big vulture flying over head. Vernon made another pass and tipped his plane wing and flew back to the Clinton base.

Mom’s chicken-egg production went “doodly squat” after this episode. We saw Aunt Bessie, Vernon’s mom, a few days later and she told us that Vernon had been planning for some time to make a surprise fly over.

A few weeks later Vernon had a 48-hour liberty and came to visit his family and us minus Knob’s big “chicken hawk.” Instead, he drove Uncle Walt Gile’s stripped-down truck that Uncle Walt used for a school bus during the school months. Mom told him about the ruckus he caused with her chickens and Dad’s horses. He apologized and told her he never once thought about his surprise visit causing any problems. Mom told him everything was back to normal and even Knob’s nerves were settled too. Mom and Dad told him they were pleased he made the flyover anyway. Old Knob had to get used to all of the “buzzards” and “chicken hawks” that flew over from Kegelman Air Force Auxiliary Field near the Great Salt Plains. Knob’s pesky “buzzards” and “chicken hawks” were mainly military trainer planes.

This was about the same time that John Reneau wanted to borrow Dad’s team of horses to work on his rhubarb patch. He lived close to Gibbon, OK some distance from us. I got the “honor” of walking Tom and Kate to his farm and a week stay with them. John married Dad’s cousin Jennie Stout after he had homesteaded his farm in the Cherokee Strip run.

Knob was sad because he thought he was going with me on this new venture, but this time he had to stay home. Dad had to hold him back as I drove the horses away. I am sure he sulked for some time after I left. I hated to leave him behind and always wished later that I had insisted on taking him with me. He would have made great company for me and I am sure the Reneaus would not have cared as they liked dogs. John was a chubby, jolly and personable man. Jennie was soft spoken and a grand lady.

It was a very long week for me to be away from home and especially my dog. I pitched in and helped the Reneaus with their rhubarb patch. They raised rhubarb as well as wheat to sell.

John’s second son; Perry farmed the old Herb Walker place just south of Johns. He told John he would like to have me work for him some time, but he did not need horses. The following spring I did work for him. I drove old Tom and Kate back home at the end of the week and when I got to the drive way, Old Knob was there to greet me. If he hadn’t been a dog, it would have been like two brothers greeting each other. Knob was so happy he ran in circles. It was his usual way to welcome me home. I wonder if my two sisters remember how that little dog showed his happiness; I think so. ( Lois adds; “We surely did, he was our little buddy too.”)

My being home with Knobby was short termed because I went to work for Perry Reneau the spring of 1942. Couldn’t use Knob at his place >smile<. Perry and I repaired a fence all around his 160-acre farm. I worked all spring doing nothing but building fence and milking cows. I came home for a few days and Knob greeted me by running around in his usual happy circles. Harvest was around the corner and soon I was back at Perry’s helping him combine wheat. After the wheat harvest I was mowing alfalfa and getting the wheat field ready for the next planting.

Knob and I were getting less and less time together. We did hunt some in the late fall and winter and kept up with the pace together as before.

The following spring of 1943, I went back to work for all of the Reneau families with the exception of Helen and Ruth. Ruth was going steady with John Perry. I kidded Perry about that, but he just laughed it off. It seemed Perry had more land than he could care for by himself.

I also worked for Perry’s older brother Sam who lived close to Medford during wheat harvest. After his harvest was over, we helped Perry and John finish their crop. It seemed I was in demand all of the time with the Reneau family. I was really missing home and especially my buddy, Knob. I missed seeing him make his “happy circles” and spending time with him hunting in all of the surrounding pastures.

The fall of 1943 brought a big blow to Knob and me. The Army would soon be drafting me and my thoughts were, “No Army for me.” The draft age was lowered from age 21 to 18 years of age, so I enlisted in the Navy at age 17 with Dad’s help.

The final day at home before my long trek to San Diego, CA, this old Oklahoma farm kid had no clue what was in store for his future. As I prepared to leave that day, Knob was at my feet constantly. He knew something big was up. In “dog worry,” he knew something unusual was taking place. He stayed by my side with suspicion the whole last, short hour before I left. He followed me all of the way to the car for his final farewell to me for the next two years. After Dad, Mom and the girls left me at the bus station, they sadly went back home. I am sure Knob was sitting there in the yard waiting to greet me like always.

I can imagine Knobby waiting at the car doors watching each one get out. In his mind, he was wondering, “Only four got out. Hey, you are missing one; what did you do with him; where is my buddy?” Maybe he snuck into the house looking for me, only to find my stinky old clothes and my worn out shoes that I had shed that morning. He probably thought, “Maybe he will come home later like before?” Knobby probably did keep an eye on the driveway for a long time waiting for me to come home like I usually did. At least he had Lois and Lila to fill in for his loss along with their cat family. I imagine though, his bark did not jive with their “Meows.”

After I went overseas, there were too many times that I wondered if I would ever see Knob and my folks again. I knew old Knob would have two mistresses to look over him if I never made it back.

Mom wrote that Knobby finally accepted the fact that I would not be returning home soon. He went with her when she mailed letters to me from the family. She said he seemed to know my letters when they arrived. Mom let him sniff my letters and she was certain he understood they were from me—I can envision him running in happy circles.

In the mid part of 1945 when the war was drawing to a close in Europe and the war was still going on in the Pacific, I was finally going home on leave. It was my first leave in two years. I was cheated out of my 10-day leave after I finished Boot Camp. I was also shafted from Amphibious Training to action in the Central Pacific. After my eighth landing, which was at Iwo Jima, the Navy finally decided that was enough for me for the time being. When I arrived stateside, I ended up in the beautiful “City of Roses” (Portland, OR) what a change that was! I also got second in two lines to go home, was I to be cheated again?

This was the lull before the storm. We were being readied for the big push to Japan. I have blessed old Harry Truman in Washington for getting us out of that one when he gave the go ahead to drop the Atom Bomb.

I finally did get to go home on leave after spending a good month waiting in Portland. I rode the train as far as Kingfisher and took a bus on to Nash where my family picked me up at the bus stop.

When I got out of the car at home around 9:30 PM, Ole Knob greeted us at the car just like he used to. I do not think he expected the stranger in a blue “Monkey” suit that got out with my family. I am sure he got the down wind smell of some thing he did not recognize. In his dog language he most likely thought, “Who the heck is that guy they brought home? The voice sounds familiar, but the rest of him doesn’t?” I had to take a bath and put on my old civilian clothes to rid myself of the Navy odor before Knob realized it was the real Mc Coy. I was to get 30 days of leave, but I was cheated again at Portland. The first Gobs that went home on leave got 30 days at home. I got 28. Oh well, it was good to lose my sea legs for a while.

The first thing Knob and I did after I got home was to walk up to see Grandpa and Grandma Caywood. Grandma smiled from her bed and said, “Where have you been so long?” I do not think, with her mind being as it was, that she realized what was behind my absence. We went to see the Clover family next. Grandpa was still confined to his bed after his stroke many years before. He was really glad to see me all in one piece. While on leave in July 1945, I decided to take Knobby on a short hunt like we did before I went into the Navy. He was ready and willing and still had that same old spark.

We took off straight to the Hendricks’ pasture. We had not gone far when Old Knob first started checking out the existing holes in the ground. He came upon one that looked like a badger hole. He started digging furiously, throwing the dirt between his two short back legs as I stood by and watched. I knew this had to be a badger hole and a badger can get hold of a dog and make mincemeat out of him.

I had my rifle along with me and did not want my dog to get hurt at his age. When he hit pay dirt he backed out and looked up at me and whined a little checking to see if I wanted him to retrieve whatever he found. I got down on my knees and saw the tail of a skunk. He stood by for my decision. I told old Knob, “Let’s just go home.” I would have sworn old Knob had a smile on his face; he seemed to be happy that I wanted to go home. I used to use the words “Let’s go home.” when the hunt was over in earlier years. I always believed that Knob had a great perception of the English language. That finalized our last hunt together.

         *********************************Atom Bomb Dropped**********************************

When Harry Truman okayed the Atom bombing of Japan, I was getting to the end of my 28-day Navy leave. We were at Nick Simons at a three man Veterans party and heard the news and only hoped those slap-happy Nips would give a “calf rope call” or would we still have to go in full force. The Nips always made the claim they would fight to the very last man.

I left for Portland, OR on the 27th day of my leave in August 1945. Once again I had to bid my little dog farewell. This time I thought it might be my last goodbye to my little dog as well as my family. I had a lot on my mind as I rode to Medford to catch the Rocket to Topeka for the Union Pacific train on to Oregon. I did not know if those “fanatical rats” were going to give up or not, due to what I witnessed at Saipan and Iwo Jima.

I do not know whether Dad, Mom and the girls shared the same feelings I had. (Yes, we did!! Lois)

We no more than got to the Kansas state line and the announcement came over the audio system of the train, “The Japs have surrendered!” My Oklahoma buddy and I were certainly relieved to hear that. It was like taking a rock off of my head and the lump out of my throat. We both knew what we would be headed for had they not surrendered.

Okinawa was in battle when we left Iwo Jima. We lost 5,000 Navy personnel and the ground troops had lost tens of thousands. It was getting to be fierce; to this day I feel Harry Truman did the best thing that could be done and the reason I am still alive writing this story.

I was discharged in March of 1946 and came home. Knob was not as wary of me this time when we met. I am sure he thought, “It won’t be long until my buddy will be shedding that silly-looking and smelly monkey suit.”

It was not long before I had that itchy, hot foot and went to work for the Geisel Brothers Harvest crew and headed north. We were to go as far as North and South Dakota, but I quit before going on to North Dakota. Bert Geisel took me to the bus station to go back home and that route took me by way of Denver, CO. I have always liked the state of Colorado and had a pang to visit Denver each time I traveled through on my way to Portland, OR. It seemed there were good job opportunities there too. I got home after a short stop in Pueblo.

Knob was glad for me to be home, but I was not there for long when again, the travel itch got to me. There really were no good jobs around home for Vets, except farm work. Grandpa Caywood started working on me to farm his land, but I was too antsy and unsure of what I really wanted. I was likened to a fish out of water.