In the fall of 1938, I enrolled as a freshman at the University of
Utah, my father's school. There
was never a question of my attending another university. Since my childhood, my father had
talked about the university and had sung its song, "A Utah Man Am I"
until all of his children had memorized it. The university had considerable impact upon me, although I
had almost mo impact upon the university.
I had to arise early in the morning, do my chores, and to ride the bus
and trolley to the university.
Upon completion of my coursework, I hurried home to do my homework, socialize with my Holladay friends, few
of whom attended the University, and to again to do chores. I made new friends through my classes,
but these friendships did not survive the war.
My most enjoyable classes were in zoology and ornithology. By the end of my high school, I had
decided to become a naturalist. I
enjoyed my class and laboratory work, but I remember the field trips the
most. The class visited local
canyons, mountains, lakes, deserts, and bird refugees. I can still remember my excitement at
seeing alive in the field, the birds we studied in the classroom and
laboratory. I also learned much
about the diverse natural environments and habitats in Northern Utah. Although
I was not at the university long enough to learn much German, I was influenced
by the dignified scholarly German teacher, Dr. James Barker. An old fashioned academician who
demanded and gave respect, he insisted upon high intellectual standards in his
classes. He won my respect and
affection. Dr. Leland Creer taught
me much in his class in Utah history about my own social and cultural origins. I also took a class in state and local
government from Dr. Herbert Maw, the future governor of Utah. He strengthened my cynicism about the
honesty and integrity of state and local politicians.
The teacher who had the greatest influence on me during my freshman
year was an anthropologist, Dr. Elmer Smith. From the first day of class in general anthropology to the
last, he carried out a systematic attack on the doctrines, origin and history
of Mormonism. Under his barrage,
my faith in the Church began to weaken.
I discussed my newly acquired doubts with my father who suggested that I
follow the example of Joseph Smith.
I prayed long and earnestly for many nights. I wanted to know whether the Church was true or not. I received an affirmative answer that
burned deep into my soul. My
doubts vanished. I received a
personal testimony about the Church that has remained with me through many
difficult experiences.
My most vivid memories of my freshman year come from my ROTC
experiences. Believing that I
should prepare myself for the war that I knew was coming, I decided to join the
ROTC, then a field artillery unit armed with old French World War I 75's. I spent hours dissembling, assembling,
cleaning, and polishing those old guns.
It was a lot of fun to hitch half
wild polo-ponies to the guns and caissons, ride furiously through the
brush at Fort Douglas, halt suddenly, unhitch the horses, take them to the rear
of the guns, seize ammunition from the caissons, cut the range in the range-cutter,
throw the shell into the breach, cover our ears, and fire the gun. The gun crews constantly timed
themselves trying to diminish the time required to bring their guns into
action. I might not have been so
enthusiastic about the field gun, if I had known about the agonizing hours I
would later spend under shell fire.
My freshman year at the university came to a quick end on May 27,
1939. My father notified me
without prior notice that I would have to drop out of school just before the
finals. We were to leave
immediately for Yellowstone Park.
He had got me a job again on a Bureau of Public Roads survey crew. My father, brother Paul, Uncle Horace
and his three boys, and myself left Salt Lake City for the Park. WE spent the night with my Aunt Hazel
Ball at Mendon, Idaho in the Snake River Valley, my first view of the Snake
River. The next day we traveled
through the park. I was enthralled
by the beauty of the park and its abundant wildlife.
I enjoyed a wonderful summer at the park. I repeatedly visited all the natural wonders, such as the
geysers and the hot pots, fished in the lakes, and hiked for many miles into
the interior of the Park alone, armed only with a compass, hatchet, knife,
bedroll, and fishing gear, spending the night where darkness overtook me. I learned to watch quietly for many
hours, to walk silently, and to blend into the vegetation. I took incredibly stupid risks with
grizzly and black bears, buffalo, elk, and moose. I came up within inches of coyotes and a wide variety of
small animal life. I also saw the
magnificent swans on Lake Yellowstone.
I came to feel a oneness with nature and with all animal life that has
never left me.
Living in a survey tent camp at West Thumb, our crew surveyed the
roads through a good part of the park.
Next to our camp was an even larger camp of a CCC unit composed of boys
from the farms and cities of Pennsylvania. For the first time in my life, I was living among
non-Mormons. I soon became part of
a group of young men from the CCC and Bureau of Public Road camps that attended
all the dances in the park, fished, hiked, and played poker. Exposed to many temptations, I managed
to resist all except poker. I soon
became a member of a nightly poker game.
Fortunately a cowboy on the survey crew gave me very valuable advise,
"always play on other
people's money. If you have to play on your own, it is time to quit." I followed his advice and got through
the summer with little loss of income.
Part of our duty was to keep bears out of the tourist campgrounds at
West Thumb. One night as we sat
down to play poker, the sounds of a women's screams reached us from the tourist
area. Grabbing our long spiked
poles and flashlights, we ran for the campground. Breaking through a circle of tourists, we found a large tent
whose sides bulged here and then there.
Fearing the worst, we threw open the tent flaps and flashed our lights
inside. The lights revealed a
petrified family and a large black bear sniffing among the residues of a picnic
basket. We booted the bear in the
rear with a spiked pole. Out came
the very irritated bear growling as he came. We shooed away the tourists and prepared to haze the bear
out of the area, when a running ranger caught the attention of the bear. The bear chased the ranger round and
round the car and tent. We managed
to divert the bear as the ranger ran into the restroom and slammed the
door. Unfortunately, he went into
the woman's side. Suddenly
feminine shrieks began to emanate from the restroom. Fearing a bear inside, we ran toward the building with our
poles ready as the ranger hastily emerged with a shrieking woman close behind
hitting him on the back with a night case. As we approached, weak from laughter, the woman ran off
leaving behind an indignant flustered ranger.
The weather turned cold toward the end of August. Surveying was suspended for the season
on August 25th. I picked up my
paycheck, bid farewell to my friends, caught the bus in West Yellowstone and
returned home to Salt Lake City to get ready for my mission to Argentina. Just before leaving for Yellowstone
Park, I was touched by a talk in ward sacrament meeting by an Elder Pierce from
the Argentine mission and asked to be sent on a mission. Much to my surprise, I was called to
the same mission.
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