If not for the train depot, there wouldn’t be much to distinguish North Platte from any other town in the rolling sandhills that stretch as far as the eye can see. Heck, I've driven past North Platte four times on cross-country trips on Interstate 80 and I couldn't tell you a thing about it – until now.
Thanks to a random choice at a used bookstore, I now know of North Platte's very special place in the nation's military history. It's an amazing story, almost too good to be true.
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During World War II, the town's 12,000 residents pitched in to support the war effort like others across the country – sending their young men off to war and getting by themselves with rationed commodities.
One day, townspeople heard a rumor that members of the Nebraska National Guard would be coming through North Platte on a troop train, so they quickly organized a welcoming party, going to great lengths to prepare baskets of food despite limited supplies.
They were surprised when the Kansas National Guard arrived instead, but rather than let the egg-salad sandwiches and other treats go to waste, they decided to give it to the young men from Kansas.
And from that day on – Christmas Day 1941 – the good people of North Platte and neighboring villages took it upon themselves to greet every train carrying U.S. troops, no matter if it was day or night, with the same welcome surprise of homemade food, beverages, cigarettes and magazines.
This commitment lasted an astounding four years, three months and seven days, ending April 1, 1946, several months after the Allies had won the war. During that time, an estimated 6 million soldiers, sailors and Marines stopped off in North Platte. During their scant 10-minute layover, they could partake of tables and tables of freshly made food, all served up by women in dresses and hats, accompanied by their daughters, sons and husbands.
Keep in mind this was a different age for transportation. Air travel hadn’t yet become routine. The interstate highway system wouldn’t be built until the '50s. In order to move troops from one coast to another, the military had to put them aboard passenger trains.
North Platte wasn’t the only place the troop trains stopped. But it was the only place where townspeople set up a canteen. And it didn’t take long for word of this oasis of down-home hospitality to spread amongst America’s servicemen.
This so-called Miracle of North Platte is the subject of a book I recently picked up. Written by Bob Greene, a former Chicago newspaper columnist and author of more than 20 books, “Once Upon A Town” tells the tale of that one community’s incredible generosity.
It’s a story of Midwest values, of a grassroots effort that literally brought veterans to tears – both then and most certainly after. Interviews with dozens and dozens of eyewitness help bring the story alive.
As Greene describes it, the North Platte Canteen reflected a simpler time in America, a time when good-hearted people exhibited their patriotism through a simple act of kindness that would be hard to imagine today. .
One veteran of the Army Air Corps, 77 years old and living in Nacogdoches, Texas, said through tears, "You think back to the war, and it's not the shootings and bombings you think about. It's the relationships with people...
"When veterans get together, they talk about this mission and that mission. But what they really mean is: 'What happened to so-and-so?
"That's how I feel about North Platte. What happened to all of those people? They were like our mothers and our sisters. How did they know to do that for us? How did they know how much it would mean?"
The same question could be asked of those farm wives who did the serving.
"Most of the older women who worked in the Canteen had sons in the war," 83-year-old LaVon Fairley Kemper recalled. "It was like a healing thing for them, to work there – their homes felt hollow with their sons away, and I think they sort of built their world around the Canteen."
One woman was in the Canteen when she got the word her son had been killed in action.
"After being away for several days because of her son's death, when she came back to the Canteen you could hear a pin drop when she walked in," LaVon continued. "There was silence, and a lot of hugs. And then she said: 'I can't help my son, but I can help someone else's son.' And she was there day after day.
"I didn't see any change in her after her son's death, except that she was probably even more caring to the boys who came in from the trains. I don't think she ever told any of those boys that she had lost a son."
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You can’t read this book and not be touched by the innocence of that era. Greene describes what happened in North Platte as "a love story between a country and its sons."
You can’t read this book and not be touched by the innocence of that era. Greene describes what happened in North Platte as "a love story between a country and its sons."
This simple act of sharing food, of exchanging handshakes, hugs and even a few kisses, meant so much to the troops. Remember, 70 years ago, communication between an enlisted man and his loved ones meant writing a letter, posting it and waiting for it to cross an ocean to its eventual destination. There were no phone calls. Certainly no internet, no Skype.
It’s hard to conceive that a single town would take this on and sustain it purely on volunteer efforts, without a single dollar of government assistance. It's also hard to imagine the emotional impact it had on our troops, when they would go months without hearing the sound of a loved one's voice.
Thanks to Greene, we’ve got a heart-tugging account that deserves to be mentioned in the teaching of U.S. history and World War II.