A letter that will make you feel good

36 Harrington Circle
Willingboro, NJ 08046
27 February 1974

His Honor

The Mayor

North Platte, Nebraska

Dear Sir:

I hope that I might take a few minutes of your valuable time in that you will read this letter, at the end of which I'm sure you perhaps will be able to tell an "old soldier" that he has accomplished a task which has taken him many years.

Since 1945 I have been trying to find a community that I and some others owe thanks to. I have reason to believe, that after all these years and many questions of many people, that North Platte, Nebraska is that town. In relating my story to you, I think you will understand.

On April 27, 1945 I was discharged medically as a Platoon Sergeant in the US Marine Corps, from the US Naval Hospital, Mare Island, California, along with 23 other men, approximately 19 of whom were amputees. I was asked by the doctors if I would sort of keep the men in tow, particularly the amputees, while we were enroute home. The problem with the amputees being that the men were to remove the artificial limbs and wrap the stumps with the bandages they were given.

We all boarded the “Furlough Challenger” of the southern Pacific Railroad at Crockett, California. This particular train was strictly for servicemen and as far as we knew, consisted of the oldest coaches that could be found. As our ride progressed the amputees were most uncomfortable and I ran into difficulties in trying to get them to follow the doctor's orders.

The Southern Pacific Conductor couldn't seem to help me to get these men in better accommodations. However, that night the train stopped at Ogden, Utah for about an hour and when we boarded again I noticed we were now under the guidance of the Union Pacific Railroad. I approached the Conductor and he had me move my men forward into what we discovered were streamlined coaches.

This solved our problems and everyone relaxed with his thoughts of what it was going to be like when we finally reached our homes and families. I know these were the main thoughts of the amputees.

The next day, 28 April 1945, sometime after 12 noon, the conductor came up to me and advised me that we were approaching a station stop and would be at this point for an hour or so. He requested that I get the men together at the forward end of the car to disembark.

Having come from a railroad family I paid particular attention to the station and its surrounding area. I noticed that the station seemed to have a sort of Spanish motif in that the platform had an arcade effect, the station being on our right as we were in an eastward direction. Across from the station were many tracks and railroad buildings, so I knew this had to be a division point. Also, as I looked across the car to the left of the train I could see rolling hills.

As the train came to a stop, I disembarked right after the conductor and I noticed that he had sort of a grin on his face and that there were around eight civilians, men and ladies, standing close by in a group. One man came forward to me and asked me if I had the wounded aboard and I replied in the affirmative. At that point he asked me to get my men together and to follow him and the others.

Now, Sir, comes the whole point of my story. We followed the group of civilians into the main waiting room of the station where we were dumbfounded to say the least. We discovered several tables with tablecloths and many more civilians, men and women, who had been waiting for us and had before us a feast.

All these wonderful people waited upon us hand and foot to use an expression. There wasn't anything that we could have asked for that wasn't placed before us. I particularly remember that someone stated they had run out of pie and several men got in their cars and shortly returned with more pies.

We could not have been treated any better than if we had been family. I am sure that we thanked everyone, but the memory of that short period of time has stayed with me and haunted me these many years. I could never remember the name of that town so I could write and express my humble thanks to those wonderful people. There is truly no way I can express what I feel in my heart and the words “Thank You” really seem inappropriate.

Based on telling this story to a comrade of mine, a native of Nebraska and he relating the story to his father, we believe that the town was North Platte. It has taken many years to accomplish this task and I would be deeply grateful to you, as the Mayor of North Platte, if you would be so kind as to somehow tell the wonderful people of your town "thanks" from 24 strangers to our midst.

The kindness of your people for that day has stayed with me and always will. I am most grateful. It was one of the most wonderful things that happened during my lifetime.

I am soon to retire from the US Army (I switched during the Korean War) and am grateful to a native son of yours from Lexington, Master Sergeant Darrel Mansir, for helping me to end this search.

Respectfully Yours,

Joseph F. Mullane

Sergeant Major, US Army

(Former Platoon Sgt., US Marines)