The Collins Clan

By Gloria Linda Lewis Collins

Gloria Collins was the fi rst child born in the U.S.A of the Lewis family, immigrants
from the small country of Wales.
Gloria, at the age of 18 married S/Sgt. George P. Collins, her high school sweetheart
who had just returned from fl ying 25 missions over Europe during World War 2.
They settled down to raise six children 3 boys and 3 girls- while living a military
life. After retirement, Gloria and George,with youngest two children, moved to a
small town in Delaware.
Although she currently resides with her youngest daughter, Linda and her kids,
her heart will always be with all her family, no matter where they are. This is the
story of a strong, loving woman whos love is endless.
Gloria loves to paint acrylic paintings of her grandchildren, garden scenes and
seascapes. She also paints ceramics. She keeps busy and fi t by tidying the house
and the yard. She remains devoted to her children and grandchildren.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479756902

Gloria Linda Lewis Collins

George Paul Collins was born on March 3, 1924 in the small town of Berlin, New Jersey. His family moved to Pleasantville and he was raised there by the bay, which he grew to love. George loved fishing and clamming his whole life. His adult life was spent in the United States Air Force until he retired in 1972 after twenty-nine and a half years. George married his high school sweetheart, Gloria Linda Lewis. The two raised six smart and charming children who now have families of their own. He had a very interesting and eventful life and, after living through the wars he participated in, he learned not to sweat the small stuff. He was buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery in Washington, D.C., at the age of 70.

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Copyright © 2013 by Gloria Linda Lewis Collins.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2012922502

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4797-5689-6

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4797-5688-9

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4797-5690-2

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Contents

Thank You

Dedication

Introduction

Chapter1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Epilogue

Thank You

I wish to thank my youngest daughter Linda, for her endless devotion and hours of correcting and typing this book. Also my granddaughter and grandson, Juliet and Danny, for spending their free time typing for me

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Gloria and Linda

Dedication

I wish to dedicate this book to my Air Force husband of 51 years and my 6 wonderful children. They have brought me a lifetime of excitement, joy and most of all love.

To them I owe this book of living life in the military with all of its trials, tribulations, and excitement.

Introduction

I was 15 years old when I went to church one Sunday evening and met the new boy in town, never knowing I would spend the next 51 years of my life as his wife.

George Paul Collins went to war at 18 and was a waist gunner on a B-17 Flying Fortress. We married when he returned and raised six wonderful, exciting children.

This is the story of Gloria L. Lewis, George, and their children, and the lives they led while living a military life.

There may be an inaccuracy now and then and if so please forgive me, could it be my 87 years of age?

Chapter1

Everyone in the world was holding their breath when Adolph Hitler’s army invaded Czechoslovakia in 1939. They then invaded the surrounding countries, Poland, Hungary, Sweden and France. They also wanted to capture England. This was in progress when my story begins. I was fifteen years old and a sophomore at Woodbury High School in New Jersey, and really didn’t think too much about things that were going on in the rest of the world. My life was centered on the sports I was playing, and to be honest, it’s really all I cared about. My grades were okay, not great, but good in the subjects I liked, History and English.

My parents, Ernest and Linda Lewis, lived at 126 Hunter Street, Woodbury, New Jersey, along with my brothers Toby and Freddy, and five sisters, Valerie, Vena, Sybil, Tomi and Tiny. The family had immigrated here from the small country of Wales, and the last three children were born here in the United States.

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Ernest and Linda Lewis

We Lewis children were taught from a very early age to be kind and to obey when we were told to do something and never, never, ever talk back. Good manners, especially at the table, were expected of us and vulgarity would never have been tolerated. Our house was noisy, of course, with so many children, but it never bothered our Mother, who was so patient and was always there for us. Dad was strict, but he also had a very kind heart, having so many children was a difficult burden and it was his responsibility to keep order in our household. We were never scolded unless we deserved it. Usually, it was scrapping with one of the other siblings that caught his attention.

One of my classmates, Gertrude Holmes, was a very close friend of mine. She had strawberry blonde hair and a very freckled face which made her look very young for a fifteen year old. We walked to school each day, meeting at the corner of Euclid and Hunter Streets where my family lived. Gertie as we called her told me she heard that a new boy had moved to town. We never realized that, on the following Sunday, we would get a big surprise. We decided to go to evening services at Kemble Methodist Church. We went at 6:30 because we didn’t want to be late. Young ladies back then didn’t wear pants as they do today so on went the silk stockings, dress shoes, my woolen pink sweater and navy skirt. It was a dreadfully bitter cold evening when I dressed in my Sunday best and snuggled in a heavy woolen coat, a warm hat and put a huge scarf around my neck. The wind was howling as we girls walked the several blocks into the town proper. By the time we had reached the church, our legs were stinging from the cold wind whipping around them. Thank goodness it was nice and warm inside, so we hurried to a pew and settled ourselves down, still shivering. As we were sitting there, we noticed a couple a few rows in front of us. There was a young fellow and a woman of middle age. Perhaps he had heard us whispering because he turned around and looked right into my eyes. My heart was doing a pitti-pat because of that look, and I smiled my prettiest smile at him. He was so cute, a blonde and he had lovely skin, but it was his eyes that I liked the most. When church was over that evening, the boy and the lady introduced themselves to my friend and me. They were Mrs. Collins and her son, George, who had recently moved to Woodbury from Pleasantville. Mr. Collins decided the drive from the beach area to his work at the Philadelphia Navy yard was too far to drive.

George asked if he could walk me home from church the following week and soon we were dating. Since I had hockey practice every day in the fall, he would ride his bike to the hockey field and wait for me. Sometimes I would ride home on the handlebars if it wasn’t too cold. We were inseparable. Each season was the same, basketball then tennis—he was waiting for practice to get over so he could take me home.

On Friday evening, if there was a good movie on at the Wood Theatre, we would walk, holding hands, to the entrance. It cost 25 cents to get in for each of us. Girls didn’t pay for their ticket in those days. When leaving the movies, we walked across the street to the drug store where all the school kids hung out. Our weekly date included a chocolate peanut sundae which cost 10 cents each. They were so delicious that there was never anything left when we finished eating. Since I had to be in my house at 10 o’clock, we didn’t linger too long afterward and I was never late. If I had been late, there would be a consequence to pay and a good scolding. I had to listen for the town clock to chime and I knew I better be in the front door before the last chime.

Now it was December 7, 1941. The Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor and Hickam Field, Hawaii. Everyone in the world was shocked. Our family was worried so much because my brother, Fred, had joined the Army Air Corps and his B-17 on which he was the radio operator was in San Francisco for repairs. That saved his life then. But his crew had to return to Hawaii. When Fred had a chance, he called my parents, making them feel a little better, but still anxious about the Japanese threat.

On July 24, 1942, a telegram was delivered to my parents stating that my brother’s plane was lost over the Pacific Ocean on a secret mission to Midway Island. The Air Corps searched for that plane, covering 1000 miles, but nothing was found. All of us loved ones, especially my Mom and Dad, prayed that Fred would return to us one day. It is the hope for everyone who has lost a precious son or daughter in wartime.

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S/Sgt. Frederick H. Lewis

Frederick H. Lewis was pronounced dead the following year, 1943. My Mother never really recovered from the grief, I don’t think. For many years, after our loss, I had a recurring dream. There would be a knock on our front door—I would open it and Fred, in uniform, would be standing there. The same words always fell out of my mouth, Freddy, where have you been—we have been waiting so long for you to come home!

I am sure George had been thinking of going into military service. So one day, he and a friend went to join the Navy. The recruiter said that both boys were still in high school and not only that but they were underweight. What to do? They bought a huge bunch of bananas, sat on the curb and stuffed themselves. George failed the weight test but his friend was now in the Navy. Well, I think when I lost my brother and seeing how devastated my family was, it inspired him and he wanted to join up. As soon as he was a little heavier, he quit his senior year of High School and joined the Army Air Corps. I was very proud of him but didn’t want him to leave. Soon he was on his way to basic training and a life in the military.

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George Paul Collins—Marching

It was September. Back to High School for me and I have to tell you, it just wasn’t the same. All of the senior boys, at least most of them, had joined one of the branches of the service. Many of my friends, Nick Ballistrary, Jim Underwood, Peter Cox, Fred Beyer and a lot more were gone, some of whom were lost, God Bless them. The