Mission to Marriage to Military

Mexican Mission

     In the summer of 1948, I received my call signed by President George Albert Smith to serve as a missionary in the Mexican Mission starting October 10th and to serve for 30 months, or two and a half years.  I was thrilled but as I learned later, after my mission, my mother had some serious misgivings about my going there so far away.  I did not know at the time that the mission would include all of Mexico and the eight countries of Central America in which, at the time, little if any missionary work had begun.

     Perhaps it would be helpful to have some explanation of the differences between missionary expectations generally then, and in Mexico specifically, at that time compared with now.

     It should be recognized that an individual was not formally considered as a missionary until being set apart by the assigned general authority just the day before leaving the Mission Home in Salt Lake City.  As a result, it was not uncommon during those first few days to see family and friends for visits, lunch or dinner when not otherwise occupied with the orientation and instruction provided at the Mission Home.  For example, during my time in the Salt Lake Mission Home, on occasion I met and visited with my parents, a girl friend came down for one last dinner date, I went home to Banida and then to Preston to have my final dental work done, etc.

     I was set apart by Elder Richard L. Evans of the First Council of the Seventy.   Elder Blair Thomas and I traveled by bus to El Paso, Texas, and then by train from Ciudad Juarez to Mexico City, a trip by rail which lasted for 48 hours.

     Missions served in Mexico in the latter part of the 1940’s were very different from what they are today.  In 1948 when I first became acquainted with missionary work in Mexico, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was not officially and legally recognized.  The 1910-1920 Mexican Revolution was aimed in part at reducing foreign influences that had plundered so much of the gold, silver and other resources from the country.   The Roman Catholic Church, which for centuries had long controlling ties to Spain and Rome, had taken so much from the country, unfortunately, leaving much ignorance and poverty in its wake.

     After the revolution, no Church was to be legally recognized and no foreign-born ministers (priests) were to be admitted into the country.  As a result, when I was called to serve a mission, technically, we were not in Mexico as missionaries formally representing our Church but rather as "tourists" associated with what was called the Asociacion de Mejoramiento Mutuo (or, the AMM, the MIA, the Mutual Improvement Association).   Our Church legally functioned under this title and was so recognized rather than as a religion.  We were to place an emphasis on cultural, educational, artistic and wholesome activities.   We were told that high-level government officials by a "gentleman's agreement" with our Church knew what we were doing and had approved our being there even though the law would not allow granting official recognition to us to serve as proselyting missionaries.  We were not allowed to do overt missionary work such as conducting street meetings, door-to-door contacting to share the Gospel, etc.

          

     As “tourist” missionaries, we taught English classes, conducted socials, coached athletic teams, and even in some cases, taught piano lessons etc.  Swimming was not forbidden.  In fact, in some areas, it was encouraged as another way to meet people.  In Cuernavaca, we as missionaries taught swimming and diving at a boys’ preparatory school and there were occasions there and in Puebla when we would go swimming on a preparation day.  Movies also were not off limits.  It was common for us to attend a movie particularly on Saturday afternoons which was for us our "preparation day."  (How different movies then were compared with what they are today!)  It was not uncommon for elders to learn how to play a few chords on the guitar and enjoy singing Mexican “rancheros” together with friends, members and investigators.  Talented missionaries were encouraged to bring their musical instruments with them—such as violins in the case of an Elder King and a Sister Kohler.   

     Legally, U. S. born missionaries would have to go outside the country every six months in order to renew their tourist visas, usually at Laredo or Brownsville, Texas.  Some of us renewed our tourist visas when we returned from one or another of the Central American countries.   The law was such that any chapels that were constructed by the Church had their titles officially transferred to the Mexican Government at the time of dedication.  (That is why for so many years, we thought it would be impossible for a temple to be constructed and then be turned over to the government for public ownership.  How pleased we are that the Church is now officially recognized and that there are 12 temples constructed and operating within Mexico).

     Church membership was small enough and the leadership inexperienced to the point that most of the branches and districts of the Church were presided over by full-time missionaries.  There was no set personal reading list for missionaries as there is today.  I took an extra suitcase full of Church books which I read during study time.  I plowed through Elder Talmage's Jesus the Christ, and The Articles of Faith, (with plenty difficulty with the vocabulary), A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, and about a dozen other commentaries of one kind or another.

     We did not have a definite missionary discussion plan for presenting the Gospel.  It was not unusual for missionaries to meet with non-member families for extended periods of time and present one of what could be dozens of lessons on a variety of Gospel themes that were prepared and in “IP” note books, as we called them.  We had heard that a development of a systematic method for teaching the Gospel had been created in the Northwest Mission in the United States that was considered to be a real help to the missionaries.  One of my last missionary assignments in the Mission Office was to begin translating what was called the “Anderson Plan” into Spanish.  

Since then, many approaches and plans were developed as well as specific guidelines and limitations have been placed on missionaries and their work as the efforts have become more streamlined and efficient—the little white Missionary Handbook as a major example.

     In our era in Mexico, our instructions were to do whatever we could to become acquainted with and provide wholesome activities for individuals who might then have questions about the Church and what we believe.  As mentioned, we were not to engage in any overt religious activities such as knocking on doors, conducting street meetings, or indicating publicly in any way that we were called and ordained representatives or missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  We were free to serve the community by teaching classes in English to those who would choose to enroll.  Our job, as mentioned, was to conduct wholesome social, cultural and physical educational activities such as would be commonly conducted in the MIA program.

     With those who participated in such activities, we were free to respond to their questions about religion and also to invite them to attend other activities including our Church Sunday services which were held in our own Church facilities or missionary apartments.  We coached basketball and baseball. When invited, we attended birthday and other types of parties and social activities where we could meet people.  In those settings we would invite those interested to join us in activities we sponsored or, as requested, to go to their homes and then teach them about the Gospel.

     In spite of all these restrictions and indirect methods, we were pleased to see several be baptized into the Church—including some of the most faithful members with whom I have had the privilege of becoming acquainted.  The Lord has a way of fostering his work regardless of the local provincial situations or restrictions.

Assignment to Costa Rica

     When I received the assignment to leave Mexico and serve among the first missionaries in Costa Rica, Central America, our schedule and activities were able to conform more closely to regular missionary activities as recognized and approved today.  One exception compared with what is done today, was for us, in the capital of San Jose, to fulfill the assignment from President Pierce to organize and field a basketball team under the name of “Los Mormones.”  The goal was to bring recognition to the Church and to help overcome some of the prejudice that confronted us as our Church was beginning to be established in a country that was 97% Roman Catholic.

     When we arrived in Costa Rica, we found a little sign displayed in the windows of almost every Catholic home read, No Admitimos Propaganda Protestante, or, "We Do Not (admit, or) Permit Protestant Propaganda."   When it was discovered that we were in the city, even half-page ads were published in the paper warning that the Mormons had come and that we were worse than the ten plagues that came to Egypt during Moses' time.  We were compared to the witch's apple in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs—attractive on the outside but full of deadly poison within.  Any member of the Catholic who allowed us to visit with them, or for them to come to any of our activities, would be guilty of a mortal sin for which there would be no forgiveness.

     It was interesting that in our interviews with President Pierce about going to Central America, he wanted to make sure that the four of us had had some experience playing basketball so that we could form the team which, incidentally, a few months later, entered the tournament and won the championship in San Jose, the National Capitol of Costa Rica.  Many articles were published in the local newspapers about the results of the games.  In the final game, we had defeated the La Dolorosa team that represented the largest Catholic parish in the city.  It was interesting how many doors were opened to us after they had read some of the news about the basketball tournament.  More will be said about that some time later.

          

     Upon returning from Costa Rica to Mexico, my assignment was to work in Puebla.  I became the "senior elder" there among the four elders and two sisters who were assigned there.  At that time, there was just one large branch that claimed one of the very few new chapels in the mission.  Little did I know what would lie in the future.

     Frankly, I know I should not have felt it, but when it became apparent that I was the elder with the longest tenure in that district,  when Elder Ladd Black, who was serving in Atlixco—one of the suburbs of Puebla—was named the new District President, I felt some disappointment.  We continued our work because there certainly was plenty to do in Puebla without my being concerned about who was serving where and in what position.  I learned a good lesson about not worrying about where we serve but rather, the importance of how we serve.

Mission Secretary

     On the morning of July 18, 1950, after visiting contacts with Elder Haws, I received an urgent telegram telling me to pack and get to Mexico City immediately.  I was very surprised.  I got things organized and left at 5:30 P.M.  En-route, I was wondering where I was being sent, perhaps to some new location in northern Mexico.

     Upon arrival at the mission home, I heard the rumor that I was to become the Secretary to the Mission Presidency.  It floored me.  I didn’t sleep all night.  Elder Holley, with whom I had been sent to Central America was there and I talked to him for a while over old times in Costa Rica. The next morning, the rumor was verified and I felt overwhelmed thinking that I hardly felt like I was the man for the job. Elder Fenn was being released and Elder Harris was moving up into his place as 2nd Counselor.  I then was to take his place as secretary. The elders serving as 2nd counselor and secretary would be analogous to Assistants to the President as missions are organized today.  Responsibilities started right away and from the looks of the duty sheet, I had a lot to do.

     On that first day, Elder Harris and I went downtown twice and I had my first experience driving in Mexico City. To say the least that was a different experience! I found out that I would have to take care of all things around the office during the absence of the Presidency. I began learning my duties with a bit more speed. Two days later, early in the morning, President Mecham, Fenn and Harris left for Tampico and Monterrey.  I went with Elder Wilson to send a telegram, mail some letters and get some supplies for the offices and thus began a very stimulating and stretching experience.

     The duties as Secretary to the Presidency were varied and included such responsibilities as:  Keeping the Mission history, drafting and sending out the monthly mission letter, taking minutes in the Presidency meetings, typing the record of disciplinary councils—I noted that one of them lasted for more than six hours—meeting missionaries at the train station, going to the consulates and embassies to arrange visas for the missionaries being transferred to Central American countries, giving penicillin and other kinds of shots (of all things!) to the missionaries, getting supplies for the offices, serving as “District President” of the Mission Home missionaries, conducting devotionals, assisting the Presidency with the suggestions for missionary transfers, going to the central market with Sister Mecham to buy groceries and supplies for the mission home, taking missionaries to the hospital when needed and visiting them there, going out to participate by speaking in various branch meetings in the area within an hour or so from the mission office (e.g. Tlalpan, Toluca, Chalco, San Marcos, etc.) representing the mission, travel with the mission president (on one occasion north to the Mexican border visiting missionaries and conducting district conferences and  branch meetings along the way), depositing funds at the bank, visiting investigators in the evenings with a companion (often Elder Richard Vidmar) to keep somewhat into regular missionary work, answering the front gate door bell after hours during the night, taking the cars in for service and repairs, counseling with missionaries who came by the mission home if the Presidency was not available, keeping track of the “meal records” when missionaries would join us for meals at the mission home since there was a nominal charge involved, etc..

     Every day was similar in many ways but always varied according to which of the duties mentioned above were included in a given day.  My days while serving as Mission Secretary were often very similar but with a wide variety of these miscellaneous activities.

     The mission office staff generally consisted of the elder who served as second counselor in the mission presidency, secretary to the presidency, secretary to the President—usually a sister missionary—(Sister Loree Brown served during most of my time in the office), financial clerk, recorder of membership records, director of supplies, and editor of the “Liahona” mission magazine.  As mentioned above, as mission secretary, I served as district president of the mission office group.

Sister Kohler

     Over the years, we have all heard about missionaries meeting their future spouses in the mission field.  It is common for individuals hearing that an elder or sister met in the mission field to roll their eyes and imagine whatever in connection with a "mission romance."  Years ago, I received some counsel from a friend who told me, "Joe, don't bother to explain how it was that you met your future wife in the mission field.  Your friends don't need it and your enemies won't believe you any way."

      Nevertheless, the next portion of this brief account gives an explanation of how a Sister Barbara Kohler came into my life.  At least for our immediate family, I have felt that this would perhaps be of some interest and value.
      To begin however, here is a brief story about Barbara's decision to serve a mission related in her journal:
      "One weekend I went home from Brigham City to Midway to visit my family. While there, my bishop asked me if I would like to fill a mission.  Realizing, of course, that women do not have that responsibility, I had time to think about my answer.  I went home and talked to my parents about the call.  Daddy (the daring one) said, “Why don’t you go talk to Brother Kimball about it and see what he thinks.  Knowing what I know now, I never would have have had the audacity to go to a general authority.  However, it is a very good thing that I did–as it turned out.

     I went back to Brigham City on Sunday and then called to see if I could talk with Elder Kimball.

     He told me to come right on out to his house the next Friday because he was recuperating from some health problem at home.  I did so.  He and Sister Kimball were very gracious and invited me in and to sit down.  Sister Kimball left the room.  I told Elder Kimball of my quandary and that I wanted to do whatever Heavenly Father wanted me to do.  He said right off that he didn’t think I should go.  He said, “Aren’t there any young men you are dating with whom you think you could become serious?”  I assured him that there was not and that I could not be serious with any one of them.  He then said, “Well, then, I think you should change locations.  Why don’t you go to Arizona to teach, or maybe California?  That is what I think you should do. You need to go where there is new scenery.  Is there anyone in Brigham City you think you could enjoy?”  I told him “no,” not that I had met as yet. 

     We continued our visit for about an hour.  We talked about my family, my teaching, etc. etc.  He showed me the shelves he had built for his study.  There were zillions of books there and among them the binders containing his talks, etc.   I remember that the shelves kind of swayed down in the middle.  They lived in a modest home and one could feel the love therein.   Finally, I arose to go and he followed me to the front door.  As he helped me on with my coat, he said, “Sister Kohler, I have changed my mind.  Go on that mission.’  He gave me a goodbye hug and I left his house–amazed at the event that had just happened. It was such a shock when I received my call to Mexico!"

        

      About a week before my leaving Puebla, Sister Barbara Kohler was assigned to work with Sister Virginia Skousen as her first companion in the mission.  The first conversation I remember having with her was when my companion, Elder Haws and they, the sister missionaries, walked down to the hospital to see our Branch President’s wife, Hazel Davila, and her newly born baby.  During our conversation, I learned that she had grown up on a dairy farm in Midway, Utah (as I thought then, “Wherever that was?”)  I discovered that we had a great deal in common in our backgrounds and with a lame attempt at humor, quipped, “Well, with all that in common, we ought to get married some day.” 

     I did not see Sister Kohler again until one day a few weeks later when she and Sister Skousen came to the mission home from Puebla.  Knowing that Sister Kohler had taught type, shorthand and other business subjects at Box Elder High School in Brigham City, I decided to loan her the portable typewriter my folks had provided for me since I had access to the mission office typewriters.  Sister Kohler later reported that Sister Skousen wondered why I would be so generous to Barbara rather than to Sister Skousen or someone else.  It just seemed appropriate to me since Sister Kohler had taught those subjects in high school, she could make the best use of it.

     Sometime later, I'm sure as a result of her secretarial training, Sister Kohler was asked to serve in the Mission Office as the person responsible for keeping the membership records current, recording the baptisms and frequently taking correspondence dictation from the Mission President. 

     In addition to the secretarial and business courses at BYU, Sister Kohler had graduated with minors in accounting, English and German.  She had taken a minor in German in order to help her better understand her Swiss father and his family's   conversations in German.  She had never studied Spanish and so she said, prior to her mission, had never remembered even seeing a Mexican person. 

     Not long after she began her service in the mission home, I was requested to teach Sister Kohler more Spanish since she had only briefly studied it en route to the mission and was relatively new in the field.  I had the advantage of having taken two years of high school Spanish, a year at the university and had twenty months on my mission at the time.  I had several grammar books, a good dictionary and a Spanish encyclopedia.  Generally, I felt rather comfortable with the language and was willing to help.  With some regularity at the end of our office day, with Sister Loree Brown, we would spend an hour working on the language.     

     During these sessions as well as in our interactions in the office during the day, I noticed some unusually fine qualities in Sister Kohler.  She was very intelligent, candid, had a good sense of humor, musically talented—both vocally and with her violin—down-to-earth, had the respect and friendship of the other missionaries and evidenced a rock-solid testimony of the Gospel.   

      The furthest thing from my mind was to find someone, a female, a sister missionary, in the mission field to whom I would become attracted.  The reality is that over the weeks, the more I became acquainted with Sister Kohler, the more I realized that I didn't find anything about her that I didn't like.  I had never met anyone in the girls I had dated before my mission and in a few cases, some with whom I was still corresponding, that had the combination of qualities she had.  

     I suppose that it was apparent to those around us in the office that I liked her.  The rumor among the mission office staff was that Sister Kohler and I seemed to have a little extra in common.   In late November of 1950, as was not unusual in my assignment, I had driven President and Sister Mecham to the meetings in the Toluca Branch where we all spoke.  I spoke on the subject of tithing and President Mecham followed up on the same theme.  On our way home I told the Mechams that I thought a lot of Sister Kohler.  I felt sure that they appreciated frankness as well as confidence.    

     Soon thereafter, I had another confidential talk with President Mecham about how I felt toward Sister Kohler.  He was understanding, but we agreed that if it looked serious, and it would be best for the mission and for us, he would have one of us transferred.  At that time, a transfer in that mission could be anywhere from Ciudad Juarez on the northern border of Mexico to the Panama Canal on the south.  

     When Elder Albert E. Bowen of the Quorum of the Twelve visited our mission, we became well acquainted.  When he had come down with something or other and needed penicillin shot in the hip, I had given it to him.  (A little side note:  It was customary to give the person a little spat just before inserting the needle.  After receiving the injection, Elder Bowen turned to me and in good humor said, "Elder, why did you have to strike me?")     

     Well, back to the story:  While Elder Bowen was touring our mission, I was driving him, the President and others to a conference in San Marcos, Hidalgo.  Along the way, I mentioned that I really thought a lot of Sister Kohler whom he had met while in the Mission Office.  He said, “Well, Elder, when you are released (which was to be in a few months), go home and date other girls and if in a year or so, when Sister Kohler is released, if you still feel the same, then those decisions can be made.”  

     The era around 1950-51 was a tense time nationally and internationally.  All of us as elders and missionaries from the USA knew that upon our release we were subject to the draft, since the Korean War had started.  I remember that in December of 1950, I was concerned to learn that the war situation in Korea looked very serious as President Truman announced a national state of emergency.  It made me think very seriously about the future.  The international situation would mean that many of the “Utopian” ideas for the future that I had been forming in my mind at that time may not become realities.   

     While eating breakfast one morning, a sad thought crossed my mind and almost made me lose my appetite.  I wondered: "What if it happened that after my mission, I went directly into the Army without ever getting the opportunity of getting married and raising a family!" I felt sad to think how much I would miss by never getting the opportunity of getting better acquainted with such as Sister Kohler after my mission.  

    As it turned out, Sister Kohler continued to serve in the Mission Office even more months than the usual rotation of assignments.   She was transferred out of the Mission Office to serve in Cuautla, Morelos.  I continued serving as Mission Secretary for ten months until I was released, so there must not have been too much concern on the part of President Mecham about our acknowledged feelings for each other.  There was no doubt as to how we felt about each other but, of course, everything would have to wait until she would be released more than a year later in June of 1952.   

An Inspirational Tithing Experience

     By the last part of May and early June of 1951, Elder George Lyman had been called to replace me as the Mission Secretary.  The transition had taken place.  I had learned that my parents, along with Stewart and Vanona Geddes, were coming to Mexico City to pick me up to take me (and Elder Blair Thomas) home.  As I think about it, that was quite a remarkable thing for them to do.  The trip was over 3,000 miles by car into a country they had never visited and with none of them speaking Spanish.

     President Mecham took advantage of the last week of my (our) mission to give me one last assignment.  I was to take Elder Blair Thomas and go to Oaxaca, Mexico.  I had never been there but I knew that it was the site of some of the most spectacular Aztec ruins at Monte Alban, etc.  according the reports from those who had worked there.

     Some three months before receiving the assignment to go to Oaxaca, the missionaries had been removed for their safety from the area due to severe religious and political persecution.  Their lives had been threatened.  At that time there were 21 members of the Church but those baptized into the Church were so new that there was no local leadership mature enough to continue with the priesthood and leadership responsibilities without the presence of the elders.

     The assignment we received from President Mecham was to travel to Oaxaca with the list of names and addresses of those who had been baptized; look them up; see how they were doing; and if possible, find a place where a quiet, unobtrusive, private sacrament meeting could be held since they had been without that blessing of having anyone authorized to bless the sacrament for three months; then return and bring a report to President Mecham.

     We boarded the narrow-gauged railroad train and traveled through the night from Mexico City to Oaxaca.  We arrived at the station just as the sun was coming up.

With the list of names and addresses in hand, we started on our assignment.  We got somewhat oriented to the layout of the city and made our way to the home of the first name on the list.  She was a sister who had an eight year old son and a small daughter.  There was no indication on the list of a husband.

      We walked down an unpaved street with high adobe walls on each side with doors that entered into the areas where the individuals lived.  We found the number of the address and entered into an area which was sort of a “condominium” with small huts/houses surrounding an open area.  In the center was a common well, or water source.  The sister’s grass-thatched hut with its dirt floor was back in one of the corners.

     As soon as our presence was made known, she must have recognized from our dress and appearance that we were missionaries.  She rushed to us with her baby in her arms and her eight-year-old son by her side and gave us a warm typical Mexican “abrazo.”  Immediately following the greeting, she went back into her hut and brought out a little clay jar into which she put her hand and withdrew some pesos and centavos.  She explained that she had been saving her tithing and requested that we take it back to the Mission President.

     As I looked at her with her shabby dress and bare feet, my first impression was not to accept the money.  I could think of several areas where she could spend it to advantage.  But, I knew that was not my prerogative.  She was converted to the Gospel and to the law of tithing and she had saved the money with faith that at some point the elders or Church would return.  

     We subsequently found the others and invited them to a sacrament meeting where we were packed into one of the homes.  There were those who kept an eye out to watch for any signs of trouble.  We sang the hymns more quietly than usual and partook of the sacrament together.  There was hardly a dry eye in that little congregation.  It was a choice spiritual experience never to be forgotten!

     Since that experience, there has hardly been a day pass but what I have been inspired by that little sister’s faith. I have been in several assignments with the seminaries and institutes of religion, Ricks College and the Central Offices of the Church where I was trusted to recommend the allocation and expenditure millions of dollars that came from the tithing resources of the Church.  The sacredness of those funds was impressed upon me by the faith of that little sister in Mexico. More than I had ever known, I learned that day more about the “widow’s mite” and the incomparable faith that accompanies such offerings to the Lord. I have felt that we should always be very careful to see that such funds were expended in the most economical and effective way.

     Also, from that time on, I have been grateful for the regular and sometimes underestimated privilege and freedom of attending Sacrament Meeting and partaking of those eloquently simple emblems of the bread and the water without fear of any kind.  I have committed myself never to take that opportunity for granted, knowing that there are always some in the world who are deprived of that choice opportunity and freedom.

Home to Idaho

     During my mission, I had to return to the states every six months to renew my visa. We crossed the border into Texas. One time my parents and younger brother Verl drove all the way to meet me there. What a joy! The time came to travel home with Mom and Dad at the conclusion of my mission. When I left Mexico, there was nothing in my relationship with Sister Kohler that would prevent my going home and dating.  I did my best to follow Elder Bowen's counsel and I dated many girls at BYU, in Logan [former friends at USU—then USAC], Preston and even Banida.  I had a great time but in all those associations with some outstanding young women, I never found in any one of them the combination of personality, character, talents and commitment that I had found in Sister Kohler.  I became convinced that if I had anything to do with it, it was meant to be. The Kohler's allowed me to come pick up Barbara from Mexico in 1952.

     When Sister Kohler was released from her mission, although it was hard for me, I insisted that she date some of her old acquaintances—particularly the elder from the British mission that had sent her perfumed handkerchiefs, etc…  I did not want her to have regrets about not following up with those who had shown interest in her before her mission.   I was immensely relieved when she later on determined that I was her choice.

     Upon returning home, as it was with most every male returned missionary, I was obligated to register for the draft in the military.  We were made aware of a national standardized test that we could choose to take and if the score was high enough, a person could go on to a University setting and train to become an officer rather than an enlisted man.  My cousin-brother, Blaine Olsen, and I traveled to Utah State University in Logan and took the test.  As it turned out, we both scored high enough that we were permitted to enroll in the Reserved Officer Training Program—he, at USU and I at BYU.  

     USAC (Now USU) was a "Land-grant College" and so all males were automatically required to take two years of Army Reserved Office Training.  That experience proved beneficial for me since I enrolled at BYU and was thus able to be admitted into the advanced Air Force ROTC program which was just beginning there.  During the next year in the program, I had advanced to a student rank of full coronal in the AFROTC program and was serving as Deputy Commander of the student wing of 3,000 cadets. 

Barbara and I had kept in contact through correspondence and everything seemed to be moving in the right direction as far as I was concerned.   

     In the summer of 1952, before the last year of training in AFROTC, everyone had to attend a Summer Camp for several weeks of full-time training.  As a result, I spent a good share of that summer at Hayward Air Force Base near San Francisco as the active duty portion of my Air Force Officer training experience at BYU.  Upon return, in early August of 1952, I drove down to Midway, Utah. My next unnerving step was to visit with her father, Albert Kohler, and formally ask for the "hand of his daughter" and for his approval of the idea. He agreed, fortunately. A wedding date was set for September 2, 1952. The marriage occurred in the Salt Lake Temple with Elder Spencer W. Kimball performing the sealing.

     As an indication of the high regard in which Barbara was held by her professors at BYU, while still on her mission, she had received an invitation to become an Instructor in the Business School Faculty at BYU to teach at the University level courses similar to those she had taught in high school.  Obviously, she had impressed the faculty with her competence and teaching skills. 

     Frankly, we relied heavily on her salary to finance us during my last year at BYU.  I had heard of an opportunity to work part-time teaching in an experimental early morning seminary class at Dixon Junior High school.  Along with a batch of others, I applied for the job [incidentally, the only job I have ever applied for] and was pleased to receive the appointment since a few weeks before leaving Mexico, I was awakened about 2:00 AM (which was very unusual for me) and had received a very strong spiritual impression that teaching Seminary was something I really wanted and needed to do.  I thought of the combination of teaching seminary in the school year somewhere near Banida and then farming in the summer.

     Not knowing when I would be reporting to active duty with the Air Force, I accepted and signed a contract to teach full-time seminary at West Side High School in Dayton, Idaho which, geographically, would fulfill my earlier intent to teach in the winter and farm in Banida in the summer. 

Move to South Carolina

     My orders to active duty with the Air Force came in March of 1953.  So the plan to teach seminary near my Idaho home was never to be realized since the military obligation changed many of our plans. We cannot always look ahead to realize that what is coming up will be good for us. That was the case with the time in the service. We really hated to leave the home area and go so far away. However, I have come to know that it is good for every couple to get away long enough to learn to depend on each other and thus grow much closer together.

     The order to active duty was for me to report at Sewart Air Force Base near Nashville, Tennessee, July 28, 1953 to be processed into the Air Force and then receive a field assignment. During the final year of officer training and finishing my Bachelor of Arts Degree at BYU, we had some choice experiences.  Barbara was teaching full-time in the Business Department and was pleased that school would end before it became physically apparent that we were expecting our first child.  In those olden days, we didn't know whether it was to be a boy or girl.  We just hoped for a healthy little Mormon to come and join our family.

     Some choice experiences occurred during that academic year in addition to our expected new arrival.  Among them:  I had been elected to be the Squadron Commander of the Arnold Air Society which is the university-based honorary organization for prospective Air Force officers.   At our final military review, I was serving as Deputy Commander of the 3,000 plus cadets.  During it, I was awarded what they called the Air Force Association Silver Medal which they said was to be presented to the "Outstanding Graduating Senior."  Dad and Mom had even driven down from Banida to observe the occasion.

     At BYU, I was invited to participate as a member of the Associated Men's' Council, a member of "Blue Key," the honorary scholastic service organization, and, the year before had been fortunate enough to place second in the annual BYU Extemporaneous Speaking Contest which was sponsored by Delta Phi, the returned-missionary fraternity.

     At commencement and graduation, I was elected to Phi Kappa Phi, the honorary scholastic fraternity and was announced as one of the "Distinguished AFROTC Graduates" which meant that if things were to go well on active duty, I could have the privileged of becoming a regular Air Force career officer rather than a reserve officer.  The offer came at the conclusion of my active duty but I declined the appointment in order to go on to graduate school.

     My orders to active duty with the Air Force came in March of 1953.  So the plan to fulfill the contract to teach seminary near my Idaho home was never to be realized since the military obligation changed many of our plans. The orders to active duty were to report at Sewart Air Force Base near Nashville, Tennessee, July 28, 1953.  In the heat of the summer, without air conditioning in the car, we traveled across the United States.  Barbara was expecting and, as she said, "was about 13-months along." Elsie Amelia was on the way.  It was so hot for Barbara that as we came into Hannibal, Missouri, we decided to go to a movie–mainly because it had air conditioning. We both went to sleep immediately and enjoyed (?) the movie.

     It was fun to see all of the Mark Twain memorabilia and the sites of his experiences. He has always been a favorite author. It was fun to see the lighthouse and imagine in our minds that Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn were there playing. The next day, we spent seeing the Church History sites in Illinois. We enjoyed eating blue cheese in Nauvoo and seeing the wonderful homes that the Saints built before they were driven out. We had a rain storm in Nauvoo, the likes of which we had not seen before. It was helpful though to cool things down, and we traveled more comfortably to Springfield, Illinois, to see the capital and the home of Abraham Lincoln. The crops in Central Illinois were breathtaking. The corn seemed higher “than an elephant’s eye.” In fact, it seemed as if it were ⅔ the height of the telephone poles.

      We finally arrived in Nashville only to be told that they had sent us two telegrams cancelling our reporting at this time. Evidently, three others hadn’t received theirs either. After much checking they decided to have us stay and get our two years done now. That was fine with us. We searched all over for the LDS Church and finally found them meeting in a Seventy-day Adventist chapel. We should have known immediately since there was a meeting there on Sunday. It was wonderful to get there and to meet other members of the Church. Being in the service took on a new meaning for us since we had word on the way back to Tennessee that the peace treaty had been signed in Korea and the war was over. A telegram came from the Air Force assigning us to the Charleston Air Force Base at Charleston, South Carolina. It would be difficult to get farther away from Utah and Idaho. At first we were disappointed and thought we would like to stay in Tennessee. However, the longer we lived in Charleston, the happier we were that we were sent there.

     We arrived in Charleston, S.C. on a Saturday. We had one of the experiences that has stayed with us ever since. We purposely didn’t bring along a lot of money from Nashville, thinking that we would get come change at the Base Exchange and that way we would not have to worry about carrying money with us. When we arrived we found that the Base Exchange was closed, being Saturday. We got out our little servicemen’s directory and called the bishop of the Charleston Ward. It turned out to be a Robert Royall, Jr. He asked me some questions about if I were an Elder and if I had been on a mission, etc. In a moment he asked me where I was as we talked on the phone, and then told me to look across the street and I would see a service station. We were to go over there and the man there would give us change for a check for any amount we needed. When we arrived, Bishop Royall had called him and told him he would stand behind any money that the owner of the station gave us. We were grateful, for now we had enough money to get a motel. As I mentioned, the experience impressed us because we realized what it meant to be a member in good standing in this Church and how much responsibility rested on us to live up to the name we had of belonging and being active. It was interesting to us that the bishop would recommend us to his friend, even though he had never seen us. Thus began a two-year adventure of great interest, experience, and love for us.

     We acquired secure off-base married officers’ housing.  I was trained as a personnel officer and had been assigned as Adjutant of the Supply Squadron of the Wing of the Tactical Air Command at Charleston Air Force Base.  It was the largest squadron on base in terms of the number of personnel.  The main mission of the Charleston Air Force Base was to provide Air Force planes and transport for paratroopers to be flown into combat.

     Only a few months into my assignment as Adjutant, Colonel Arnold, my commanding officer came to me and said, “We are moving the Base Exchange Officer, Lieutenant Carroll, to supervise the Officers’ Club and we need a new Base Exchange (BX) Officer.  You are a Mormon, aren’t you?”  I assured him that I was.  Then he said, “We know we can trust you and we would like you to take that assignment.”  The assignment called for a person with the rank of captain and I was merely a green second lieutenant.

     A Base Exchange is like a large general store with millions of dollars’ worth of all kinds of merchandise that servicemen can buy at prices lower than typical retail—including: clothing, accessories, cameras, watches, jewelry, etc. etc.  We were also responsible for all base food services outside the mess halls.  I have only had two migraine headaches in my life, and they occurred at the time of the annual inventory, knowing that “my name” was in a way on everything and I would be held accountable for any inappropriate loss.  (Fortunately, they turned out well.)

Excerpt from Barbara's personal journal:

     "We found an apartment at Governor Yeaman’s Apartments, #14-C. Our address was Rt. 9, Charleston Heights, S.C. We didn’t have zip codes then. We lived in that little apartment for the first little while. It was a bit difficult, because we didn’t own a stick of furniture and we couldn’t find a furnished apartment. We really didn’t need a lot of things. I became friends with a man who helped me to build a missing side of a second-hand crib we bought. After a good paint job it was like new. We were happy to have it without paying much of anything for it.

      Joe has always been very impressive to people. They usually recognize his great capacities and talents. I remember so well one of the first nights that we were in Charleston; a knock came to our door. I opened it and there stood none other than Colonel Arnold, the Camp Commanding Officer. He said he just wanted to come by and see how we were getting along and if we were all settled. We couldn’t offer him a seat except a kitchen chair. He said he would like to take us out for dinner–which he did. It was a lovely steak dinner. We were baffled that the colonel would do such a thing. It might have been because of Colonel Arnold that Joe was called to be Base Exchange Officer, a huge responsibility."

     Some of my thoughts about serving in the military in the time of war follow as well as a few miscellaneous experiences that were important to me:

"The Price of Freedom"

     Later, on November 11, 2007, I was invited to give a speech at a patriotic gathering in Utah commemorating "Armistice Day" and I share the following because it includes some personal thoughts about the world situation and my feelings about serving on active duty in the military:

     When I became of age to serve in the military, Congress had passed the “Universal Military Training Act” which meant that every male citizen who was of age and who was physically and mentally able was to be trained and serve in the military for at least two years on active duty plus a minimum of six years in the active reserve—in other words, for a minimum total of eight years.

     Then it happened. Without warning the North Koreans made their surprise bloody invasion of South Korea.  Shortly thereafter, the Red Chinese came to their aid.  A decision was made by our government that we, along with allies, would go to war and resist the Communist takeover by the North Koreans.   It was apparent to many that if they were successful in taking over the Korean peninsula, then there could be a domino effect throughout the countries of Southeast Asia resulting in forcing additional billions to lose whatever freedom they possessed and fall under the dictatorial rule of godless communism.

     For me, the Korean War—or “Police Action” as it was called—was very real.  Several of my closest hometown friends saw action in that bloody war in which more than 50,000 Americans were killed or wounded.   Hearing of the death of a cousin, Lynn Harrison, being killed in action, brought the grim reality of that conflict very close to home.

     At the time, I was in officer training with the Air Force and knew that I, along with the thousands of others, had that eight-year commitment to serve on active duty plus active reserve.  When I received my orders to report to active duty, the fighting in Korea was heavy in March of 1953. It was in that month that I learned that I was to report to Sewart Air Foce Base in Tennessee on July 28th to be processed into active military service.  I was assigned to the Charleston Air Force Base in South Carolina which was part of the Tactical Air Command and provided the pilots and aircraft for paratroopers to be dropped into the field of combat.

     Barbara and I had married and we were excitingly expecting the birth of our first child.   I confess that the thought of leaving her was not pleasant to me.  I assumed that the chances were very likely that I would soon be in Korea. As it turned out, while we were driving across the country to Tennessee to report to active duty, literally, the day before we were to arrive, an armistice was signed at the 38th parallel between North and South Korea.  Personnel at our Charleston Air Force Base were alerted a few times to mobilize when there were rumors that the cease-fire and armistice may not hold.  But, as you know, it has now held for 54 years.

     So, along with others, I just continued on and fulfilled the eight-year commitment to serve on active duty and in the active reserve.  As a result, I have no war stories to tell anyone.  For me, the real heroes are those who have placed, and are now placing, their lives on the line in actual combat. Nevertheless, like so many others at the time, I was willing to go into the service and do what I thought was my part, because the threat to our freedoms, families and way of life seemed very real to me and very much worth paying the price, regardless of the outcome.  I feel the same way today, because freedom is priceless.  It is worth fighting for.

     I appreciate the scripture where we read:

“Inasmuch as ye are not guilty of the first offense, neither the second, ye shall not suffer yourselves to be slain by the hands of your enemies. And again, the Lord has said that: Ye shall defend your families even unto bloodshed.   Therefore for this cause … [they defended] themselves, and their families, and their lands, their country, and their rights, and their religion” (Alma 43:46–47; emphasis added).

     Unfortunately, today, as we speak, there are insidious forces in the world whose major objectives are to deprive us of these blessings that are of far more worth than our mortal lives themselves.

     In war, the incalculable cost in lives, injuries and national treasure are impossible to quantify completely.  But there are times, as we sing in our National Anthem:  “… when freemen shall stand between their loved home and the war's desolation!”

     Ralph Waldo Emerson penned these lines:

For what avail the plough or sail,

Or land or life, if freedom fail?  ["Boston" Stanza 15]

     There are values that are worth fighting for and I don’t think as a country we are doing as much as we should to instill the importance of these values into the hearts and lives of the youth of our country.

     There are many today, especially among the young, who do not know much about the significance of November llth and “Armistice Day.”   One boy asked, “’Armistice Day.’ What is that?  When is it?

     As most of you know, the armistice was signed ending that devastating First World War on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918.  We have had several wars since then including:  World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Desert Storm, and now, Afghanistan and Iraq.  So, now we call it “Veterans’ Day” rather than “Armistice Day,” in order to recognize the service and sacrifice of all who have served in whatever war defending our freedoms.

      We need to do more than we have done to instill in the youth of our country an appreciation for the freedoms we enjoy and the need to defend them.  Dr. Kenneth MacFarland, gave a speech entitled “Selling America to Americans.” In it, he told about a young soldier who returned from Vietnam. In a very serious talk with his parents, the young soldier asked if they loved America.

     Both mother and father got a little teary-eyed and said that they loved this country dearly, that it was more precious to them than their own lives...

     “Why didn’t you tell me that when I was growing up?” he said. “I never heard you once say that you loved America. You never taught me to love it. I can’t tell you what an ungrateful pup I have been. I had to go to Vietnam to find out what the United States of America is all about. I would gladly lay down my life for it. I would have given anything to know how you felt about it when I was growing up.”

     In the same speech, he quoted a veteran of World War II who wrote, “My wife and I don’t have much. I doubt we will ever have enough money to travel outside of Arizona. I was a soldier in World War II and was taken prisoner. For two years we didn’t hear one bit of news as to how the war was going. In all those months I never lost faith,” he said, “and then one morning I saw the American flag and a band of soldiers coming over the hill. I don’t know if anyone can understand the love I felt for my country that day, and have all of my life.” [Vaughn J. Featherstone, “But Watchman, What of the Night?” Ensign, Nov. 1975, 7]

     They knew and appreciated the price of freedom.  

     For many, we live in a world where young people lack genuine heroes. It is has been noted that we live in “a cynical age [which] now accepts the tarnished coin of celebrity in place of heroic virtue.”

     Our young people today need heroes they can appreciate who go beyond the popular rock stars, musicians, comedians, great athletes, the rich, and the famous. They need to know of heroic characters whose influence will live long after the applause for those who are currently popular, has faded away.

      Retired Brigadier General Joe Foss, who was also a recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor, said, "America needs a new generation of heroes... people who are ruled by a conscience that doesn't take the Ten Commandments lightly, who have a fundamental reverence for their Creator, and a respect for the people and things He has created."    

     Our country was started by those who were willing to pay the price of freedom when on July 4th in 1776 they signed the “Declaration of Independence” that includes these familiar words:

     We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. —

     And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of  Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.

     We should be inspired and agree with the words of Patrick Henry, who, at that time, said:

Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

   As we sing in our National Anthem:

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their loved home and the war's desolation!

Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land

Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,

And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

     In our day, the military of the United States of America does not go into battle to expand our national treasure, territory or lands.  We do not seek to occupy another country once victory has been achieved and the fighting has stopped.  As a nation, in other great wars, the only real estate we requested in France, the Philippines, or wherever, has been just enough space to bury our dead who, by the thousands, have paid the price of freedom for others.

     From the bottom of our hearts we pay tribute to those who have proved valiant enough to pay the price of freedom.  Tonight, we remember those in our military who are now, as we speak, in harm’s way, fighting to stem the tide of those who would take from us our god-given inalienable freedoms including our very lives.       

     We also remember their wives, children, sweethearts and families they have left behind who share in paying the price of freedom.

“Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their loved home and the war's desolation!”

For that I pray every morning, night and in between.  Thank you very much.

(The Price of Freedom, November 11, 2007, Joe J. Christensen)

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