Time continues to march forward. It does not care what we think about it. Some want it faster, others want it slower, others want it to stop.

In preparation for Memorial Day, I was trying to think of something that would show that I truly hold in memory those who served in the military and especially those who died in that service. Hopefully here are a few things that show a more human side. I am not aware that I have any ancestor who has died in a war, especially in the service of the United States of America. I guess for that I am lucky and honored. But I have many who have served in the military.

David Delos Donaldson is my paternal grandmother’s father. I tried to get a copy of his military records many years ago, but they were destroyed in a St. Louis, Missouri, fire long ago. I only know a few things. He worked in California as a pipe fitter/plumber at some point, but I believe that was for WWII. He went through basic training and ended up learning signaling. At some point he was allegedly in France and was exposed to the dreaded mustard gas, which injured his lungs. He smoked to settle his lungs as prescribed by doctors. He ended up dying from complications due to his lungs.

Here are some notes I have from 2006.

“I stumbled upon a registration form for my great grandfather, David Delos Donaldson, and WWI.  He was working in Twin Falls, Idaho.  The best part is, we never knew he went to Idaho, ever.  Not only that, he was working there, and was exempted because he was working to support his younger siblings and mother.  He did later enter the war, we don’t know when or how, but went to France in the Argonne and was gassed there.  He suffered his whole life and eventually died from the mustard.

“With this information, I went to visit my Uncle Dave Donaldson because my Dad did not know anything.  I picked his brain.  We know little about my Great Grandfather before he married.  Now we know he was working for Ballantyne Plumbing in Twin Falls in roughly April 1917.  He served in WWI with two brothers.  As mentioned, he was hit with mustard, spent some time in hospital, and he wasn’t getting better, so they sent him home.  He married my Great Grandmother in 1919, Berendena Van Leeuwen.  They had 5 children.  During the great depression he worked down south as a plumber.  Dave did not know where, but there was a possibility it was at the Hoover.  When they went on a trip to Los Angeles, he insisted on stopping at Boulder City and the dam on the way home.  Oh, we do know that before they got married, he worked as a plumber in Phoenix.  How long we don’t know, but he could not bear the heat down there.  During the depression when he worked down south, the family stayed in Ogden.  Dave was young enough that he remembered his father coming home, but not knowing where from.  Again during WWII, the whole family moved to Napa, California and Great Grandpa was a plumber at the naval yard there. I do not know if there were any other naval bases down there.  Then they moved back.  The family must not have stayed down there, or he did not work the entire war, as my Grandpa and Grandma met in 1941-1942 at the Berthana on 24th street Ogden at a dance.  They were married in April 1942, shortly before he left for war.  Great Grandpa was a plumber by trade.  He worked up until the 1950’s when his health failed him.  He picked up smoking because it soothed his lungs.  It sounds like the mustard burned his lungs the rest of his life.  He would smoke to deaden the nerves.  Dave told me this increased until he died.  Even the last few years of his life, he had oxygen when he went places and when he slept.  But he kept smoking.  Dad told me of one of the few memories he had of his Grandpa.  He went to visit him in Ogden, Grant Ave if I remember right, and he was laying in bed.  There were newspapers all over the floor.  He got into a coughing fit and coughed a big thing of phlegm up and it went on the floor.  It was the combination of the irritation to the lungs from mustard and the smoking.  It was what eventually killed him.

Here are some postcards David sent home to his mother. His father, William Scott Donaldson, died of cancer in 1913.

I am not sure why the writing on the left is crossed out. But you can see Miss W. S. Donaldson 2270 Moffett Ave Ogden Utah. It says Carlin and Delos Donaldson. It might say “Yours” above it. The postmark is dated 1914, but I cannot make out the rest of it.

Dated 2 April 1918. “Dear mother got here all ok like it fine Write me as Private David D Donaldson 20th Co., 5th Bn., 166th Dep Brig. Camp Lewis, America Lake, Wn. Mrs. W.S. Donaldson 2270 Moffett Ave Ogden Utah”

Front and back

“Signal Corps It does not look much like me Do you think so. Mother I am at the Signal School here.”

Front and back

Dated 28 June 1918. “Dear Mother just a line to say I am well and fair when I got in New York all for this time your son DDD. Written to Mrs. W. S. Donaldson 2270 Moffett Ave Ogden Utah

We might think it, but none of us are truly bullet-proof. This boy’s health was affected for the rest of his life by war. He did live to be 59 years old.

He did marry and had five children.