Up Through the Years

From Cpl. Carl A. Drain, stationed in New Guinea in 1944, to his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Drain of Hemlock NY.

Rediscovered by Jody Treble Sidlauskas.

...

There stands in Hemlock, my home town.

A place that’s known for miles around.

Drain’s Hardware is the name,

“Square deals” the motto, treat all the same.

Let me recall to you,

What might have been in “forty-two.”

“My pump won’t pump, what should I do?”

The answer might be, “Go ask Hugh.”

If he’s not there, then ask his son,

He’s just a little son-of--gun,

He’s young too, but he can do

Things almost as good as Hugh.

From the time I was a little tot,

I followed dad, helping, I thought.

As I grew older, I was dad’s boy,

To follow him was my pride and joy.

For thirteen years, dad worked for Wemett,

And for the second time disaster he met,

He was laid up for over a year,

The loss of his leg, we all did fear.

When dad got on his feet once more,

He said, “Son, shall I buy the store?”

I said, “Yes, dad, by all means do,

And you can rest assured, I’ll stick by you.”

Four years of school, I had to go.

The time went anything but slow.

Noon hours, Saturdays, summers too,

Dad and I had work to do.

In nineteen forty, my school days were o’er,

And I went to help dad in the store.

We worked together, just we two,

Plumbing, heating; eave trough too.

With dad and I there was another,

The third being my dear mother.

While dad and I labored outside,

She cared for the store, and things inside.

That’s the way it all begun,

Mother, father, and their son,

A family affair as you can see

But we were always busy, like a bee.

Things went well ‘till ‘forty-three’

A letter came, “dad said, it was for me.”

It read, “Greetings from the President.”

Off to the army I went hell bent.

For fourteen months, I was in the states,

They taught everything but skates.

It was in April of forty-four,

I left the states via the western shore.

I’m in New Guinea now, a soldier lad,

Fighting for freedom for my dear wife, mom and dad.

On those back home, it sure is tough

Work a plenty - help and materials, not enough.

This war must surely have an end,

When it does, then, oh! then

The Allies, I am sure will all be glad.

I will because I can work with dad.

As I said before, my pride and joy

Is to be with dad, since I was a boy.

I am going back to my home town.

To the store that’s known for miles around.

It will be a while yet, and I will not have forgot

Things I learned when a little tod.

But it’s born in me to sell to you

Nuts and bolts and paint so blue.

Today it’s up to mom and dad,

For this, I am very sad.

Someday again it’ll be the four of us,

And we’ll carry on, there’ll be no fuss.

Bolts and nuts and paint so blue

Furnaces and pumps we’ll sell to you.

I’ll not be a boy, I’ll be a man

And take my share the best I can.

Yes, it’s true, war is hell --