“The game’s afoot!” Sherlock Holmes and I have a lot in common. We both love a puzzle, and neither one of us lets go until its solved.
As a Grand Junction historian and author, I’m always on the lookout for puzzles to solve about our town. This quest takes me (and usually a friend or my long-suffering husband) on adventurous treks, like hiking across winter hills to a cave that had held a mummified baby; or peering through a basement’s murkiness at an abandoned staircase rising elegantly to the ceiling. I’m thrilled when an item connected to area history falls into my hands. These precious mementos are bridges to the past, raising questions I must find answers to. Before I know it—the game’s afoot!
For instance, recently on Ebay I ran across a graduation class photo dated April 24, 1943. The notation said, “Third Class, Ordnance Automotive School, Grand Junction, Colo.” The sixty-three men stood at parade rest and proudly wore their World War II Army uniforms. In my research, I’ve never run across such a school, so I immediately emailed the seller, Greg Oleszak, and asked him where he got the photo.
It turns out, Greg’s grandfather, August Pavlasek, was in that picture.
(Augie
is 5th from left, middle row)
He couldn’t tell me much about the school, but Greg had several newsletters entitled The Peep. Though the photo was sold, Greg offered me the newsletters. When they arrived, I found them full of information on the school, the soldiers and their activities, and humorous cartoons and anecdotes. I had to know more, so I drove to the Mesa County Library to peruse their wonderful newspaper archives on microfilm. Since the photo was dated, I started there. Within minutes, I discovered a long-forgotten aspect of Grand Junction’s history.
On October 13, 1942, the first class of the Army’s Seventh Service Command Ordnance Automotive School arrived. The 200 “Motor Minutemen” would learn, during their three months of courses, how to repair service vehicles quickly and efficiently on the battlefield.
But where was the camp? I read on…
Ah, here it was—they were stationed at the old Civilian Conservation Corp (CCC) camp at Lincoln Park! This camp was recently abandoned after its young men enlisted in the war. Located where today’s Veteran’s Administration Hospital complex is, on the southwest corner of North Avenue and 23rd Street, its barracks and other buildings suited the school perfectly.
(Lincoln Park Golf Course is on the left, and the CCC camp used by the Army during WWII on right)
(This picture is of the CCC camp ambulance garage and surrounding barracks, courtesy Dorothy Doyle)
Though small in comparison to similar schools around the country, Grand Junction’s facility soon gained a reputation as the best. When the second wave of students debarked in January 1943, nearly 70,000 pounds of equipment accompanied them, including six complete 4x4 Jeeps (at the time, dubbed “peeps”) to be dissembled, inspected, repaired, and readied for service again.
After each class was acquainted with their new headquarters and schedule, they reached out to the community in several ways.
The old Y.M.C.A. building (on the northwest corner of 5th and Rood—today, the site of Alpine Bank) was, at the time, being renovated for the Mesa County Service Club. Settling into new surroundings were the ration board and Work Projects Administration (WPA) district offices, the Red Cross, a wrapping (bandage) room, and the county library. For the visiting soldiers, card and reading rooms were prepared, as well as a Canteen. Most of the remodeling was done by the school’s students.
When the Army basketball team played, crowds cheered them on, even if their opponent was Mesa College’s favored team. The soldiers lost most of their games, but The Daily Sentinel stated the team got better each time they played. Once in a while, Army team members offered enjoyable halftime entertainment. During a January 1943 game, Private First Class (PFC) Ray Filepello demonstrated fire-eating techniques he’d learned from his time with Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus, and at one event, PFC Estel LaMarr sang an original song called, “Grand Junction Blues.”
Local citizens keenly noted the young men’s activities. They watched with interest the frequent marches through streets, invited them to join their families for holidays, and attended graduations.
While the town’s home front efforts included valley-wide blackouts, collecting newspaper and tin, and making the boys in uniform feel at home, the soldiers did their part, too. They participated in parades, and The Peep proudly reported student donations for war bonds totaled $1,430.
They also partnered with the 20-30 Club in the “Give ‘Em Guns” project, a national movement collecting donations to buy machine guns for the armed services. This particular endeavor had to be postponed, unfortunately, due to an “outbreak” of scarlet fever at the camp, causing a temporary quarantine. Only one case was actually sent to Camp Hale’s hospital, but the rest of the camp suffered painful immunity tests and were a little grumpy about it, according to The Peep.
From October 1942 to June 1943, four graduating classes passed through the school. By spring, orders came from the War Department to consolidate repair schools in an effort to improve vehicle maintenance services. After the last class shipped to permanent cadres, the three officers in charge and remaining staff awaited their marching orders, which eventually came. That fall, the deserted CCC buildings were used once again, this time to house German POWs helping with the tomato harvest.
Seventy-three Mesa County servicemen lost their lives in WWII. Apart from that great sacrifice, Grand Junction played a useful role during the war, as temporary home for hundreds of soldiers learning to protect our freedom
Augie’s Badge
Greg Oleszak had an unusual WWII military police badge in his possession that may have ties to Grand Junction. His grandfather, Augie Pavlasek, carried the badge in his wallet and flashed it at unruly kids to scare them. Greg was told it belonged to a Native American friend, whose initials were “H.H.” and had lived in Grand Junction during the war. He’d been hired by the military as a policeman, and before Augie left town, his friend gave him the badge as a memento.
Upon investigation, I’ve found little to support the story, but who knows what further research will unveil. Until then, Augie’s story remains a puzzle.