A birthday

On Dec. 7, 1921, my wife’s Uncle Murray was born in Stamps, Ark. Murray was the first born of three. His family were farmers, subsisting on share cropping for the most part. His father took other jobs he could find. The times in Arkansas were hard.

At age 18 in April 1940, Murray enlisted in the Arkansas National Guard’s 153rd Infantry. The regiment was mobilized into federal service that December and after initial training moved to Alaska. Murray said he spent the war walking railroad tracks in the wilderness. In early 1945, Murray was transferred to Camp Blanding, near Jacksonville, Fla. He received his discharge as a sergeant, U.S. Army, in September 1945 and went home.

Murray had dropped out of high school in Stamps when he was in ninth grade. He went to work as a farm worker. That has never been an easy job, and certainly was not in 1940. While home on leave in 1943, Murray used his Army savings to buy 40 acres northeast of DeQueen, Ark. He lived there the rest of his life.

Murray was pretty much self-educated. He read. He could do just about anything with an axe, a saw, hammer and nails. He understood animals and land. After his father died and his mother and sisters moved to town, Murray tore down the old farm house and built a two-room cabin on his land and a two-bedroom house in town. He lived on the land while working for a timber company. He died in October 2006.

Murray was marking his 20th birthday in Alaska when Japanese bombs sank ships and killed Americans at Pearl Harbor. Most likely, other soldiers offered congratulations that morning. By that afternoon, the world had changed forever.