In Quest of Manhood
A personal remembrance of the birth and development of raw courage in our hearts as we fought our nation's enemies on the battlefields in World War II.
by
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Meanwhile, back at the dorm, life had settled into a routine of sorts. Each of us had five roommates. In our suite, Jack was a friend of mine from many years at the University of Delaware; the others were new friends, assigned by random chance: Heffner, Hornidge, Zarlo, and Lourakas. We mostly knew each other by our last names, since we each had a "Government Issue" (GI) nametag with just our last name engraved upon its plastic face. Jack was an obvious exception for me; but the others called him "Keen", from his nametag. Each of us had a bedroom, with just a bed and a chest of drawers. These rooms each had a door that opened onto a central study room, with a large table surrounded by six chairs. There was a seventh door which opened to the outside hallway. The bathroom/shower room was down the hall. This layout made for a lot of togetherness, as you can imagine. It was fortunate that all of us were taking the same courses, and even more fortunate that we were all dedicated students, eager to learn as much as we could. In spite of that, or maybe because of it, and our occasional need for relief, we had some really uproarious times together. Lourakas was our clown. He could see something funny in everything, especially a fart. If one of us would release a little gas, within less than five seconds you could count on it that Lourakas would raise his head and bellow, "Who died? Come on Lee. Have a heart. If you have to do that, go out in the hall. Better yet, go out in the courtyard. Better yet, go downtown and entertain the populace. They will probably think that the wind has shifted to blow in from Jersey City." Hornidge (who we sometimes called "Horney", for obvious reasons--not that he was especially horney, but that his name suggested the term) was from California. He took a moment such as that to ask, "Have any of you guys ever lit a fart? No, I'm not kidding. Next time you take a tub bath, take some matches in there with you. When you fart under water, light the bubble when it surfaces. It's just like marsh gases." And there were the nightly stories Heffner would tell of his sexual exploits. He was particularly fond of shocking us with his experiences across the color line. "You ain't never had it until you get a piece of dark meat" he would say, with obvious relish. Zarlo was the hard drinker of the bunch. The way he would embrace a bottle of rum was something weird and unnatural. You couldn't help but worry about his future. Jack was just a solid person. He never seemed to get ruffled, regardless of many provocations--and we all experienced plenty of that. He was a dedicated student, but not a "nerd". You could always count on him to find a positive response to every situation. He later became a top level plant manager at one of the manufacturing companies in the Philadelphia area, which did not surprise me in the least. One Friday night, as Christmas season approached, we headed for the center of town. Zarlo had his bottle of rum clutched firmly in hand. He offered each of us a swig, which he watched carefully, to be sure that it was a small swig. I took a small mouthful. It burned all the way down. I felt like I had a knot in the pit of my stomach for the rest of the night. Since then, I have never had the desire to sample rum again. One of the guys had an invitation he said he found on the bulletin board. It listed an address and a time for a party, and it was signed by three feminine names. When we got there, sure enough, there were three girls in the apartment, and lots of food and drink. We were invited to partake of the goodies and turn on the record player. As the evening progressed, more guys showed up, and the noise level rose, as is typical for such an affair. Jack and I were engaged in a discussion of some sort, probably politics or women. Eventually, I had to go to the bathroom. On the way, I passed by a bedroom with the door wide open. There on the bed was one of the girls, intimately occupied with one of the guys. Later, after we left the party, I described the scene to Jack, commenting that he must have been her boyfriend. Jack just laughed. "Lee ", he said, "You're refreshingly naive." I guess he probably was right; but I have wondered ever since what was going on. The possibilities are rather intriguing. Were they just whores trying to expand their client list? Or were they exactly what they said they were: three girls sympathetic to a bunch of G.I.'s caught away from home during the holidays? If it was the latter, the Christmas gift options appeared to be rather generous. That same evening, Heffner announced that he was getting married. Lourakas had a wicked gleam in his eyes as he said, "Great! I want to meet the lucky bride, so I can tell her about your preference for Dark Meat." Heffner blanched. And then his face began to turn red, and the sweat beads started to stand out on his forehead. For the first time in all the months we had known him, he seemed at a loss for words. When the words did finally come out, he said, "Hey, you guys never took me seriously about that did you? I was just funning with you. Please don't make it hard for me with my wife. She really means a lot to me, and I wouldn't want you to be worrying her with all that crap." Those words have helped me a lot through the years, when one guy or another has been holding forth over his cups. I've never figured out what makes them do it; but I know it happens, and I don't get sucked in much anymore. The New Year we welcomed was 1944. The news from the Pacific and from North Africa was ominous. From the beginning of the ERC program, as I have noted, we all had deep concerns about sitting on the sidelines. As we attended our classes, we were increasingly restive about not contributing actively to the war effort. Our studies were overshadowed by the news we read each day, and the books often swam before our eyes as our hearts went out to the thousands of our compatriots who were being wounded and were dying in combat as we languished in luxury at this posh university. Fundamental to our every thought was the recognition that we owed a deep sense of gratitude to this generous nation of ours for all of the advantages we had experienced during our brief lives here. And increasingly, we were alarmed at the threats of harm to our nation and to our families presented by our enemies. Although I continued to wrestle, internally, with my own loathing of violence and bloodshed, and although I still felt that war was a stupid way for nations to resolve their disputes, as I viewed and reviewed the cards in this desperate game we were playing, the conditions we faced appeared to be relentless and unavoidable. The Axis nations had mounted a serious military effort to conquer our nation and its allies. A strong military response from our nation and its allies was imperative. Responding weakly, or not at all, would simply be to accept subjugation at the hands of these d
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About the Book
This book provides some insights into how Lee developed his understanding of people, and his appreciation of the best that human beings can be, in the midst of the worst that we do to each other. In this book, he tells how he experienced intimate exposure to the threat of death on the battlefield, spent six months starving as a German P.O.W., escaped under stressful conditions, found his way back to friendly forces, returned to his home, and got married to a loving woman who has made his life whole again. He deplores the negatives in his wartime experiences; but he was impressed with the basic strength of his fellow warriors and then his fellow captives. "People are amazing," he says. I'm sure you'll agree.
About the Author
Leland S. Inscho, Jr., who prefers to be known as Lee Inscho, was born in Basin, Wyoming in 1923, raised in Northern Indiana from infancy to age 14, and then successively in West Virginia and New Jersey, and by age 16, in Wilmington, Delaware. He was academically and athletically inclined, doing well in both fields; and he played flute in first the Montclair, N.J. businessmen's symphonic orchestra and then in Mrs. Bradford's symphonic orchestra in Wilming-ton Delaware. He has recorded a CD of his own piano compositions. He entered the University of Delaware in the fall of 1941, and graduated with a degree in Mechanical Engineering in 1947, with a four year GPA of 3.65. In the midst of all this, he spent two and one half years in the Army, fought in Europe, and was captured, spending six months as a prisoner-of-war in Germany. After returning from the war he married Elizabeth (Liz) Crossgrove. She helped him complete his college courses, and then they embarked on a busy lifetime of professional assignments (mixed with vigorous spousal/parenting activities) for Lee, and full-time child-care/house-care/marriage-partnership activities for Liz. Today they are parents for six children (who are no longer children) Grandparents to ten children (most of whom also are no longer children), and--at present count--Great Grand parents to seven more children (who really still are children). Lee has written most of his memoirs of those frantic but rewarding years, and he hopes to have it all published sometime soon, too. In Quest of Manhood is just part one! Keep your eyes open for parts two!! and three!!!