Sunday, July 4, 2010
My father, Frank Sobolewski was an Army Master/Sergeant and served in our military for 30 years. This entitled us to go to the Commissary at the Barracks to buy food.
My memories of the Barracks was going to the commissary every Saturday morning with my brother, Ed, to buy groceries. We did not have a car so we took our trusty red wagon. The commissary was on the southern end so we had quite a walk from our home on 27th street. (Our home was demolished when Broadway went through.) We could smell the odor of fresh baked bread several blocks away. I remember a loaf was 2 cents
One Saturday my brother was not able to go, I was 10 or 11, and I went by myself. The tongue of the wagon came off when I was on my way home and I had a wagon load of groceries. I was on about 10th street and I sat forlornly on the curb. I knew I couldn't leave my groceries and we didn't have a phone so I couldn't call home. I can still remember the wonderful sense of relief when a Salvation Army truck stopped and gave me and my trusty red wagon a ride home. I was and still am thankful.
Also, I remember the friendly Italian POWS who would smile and wave.
Elsie White lives in Portland.