July 5, 1943: Di-dah Morse Code Class

When our uncle Pfc Lester LaVerne Zornes wrote this letter home to Spokane, Washington, he had just wrapped up his second day of Morse Code class as part of his training to become a Radio Operator. The school was running three shifts of classes, with his class starting at 2:00 a.m. He would go on to send, receive, and transcribe an astonishing 22 words per minute, all in the form of short taps (dots) and longer taps (dashes), or as he called them, “dis” and “dahs” on a telegraph key. (He would go on to serve on board a C-47 with the 306th Troop Carrier Squadron.)

I can imagine Grandma trying to keep a straight face while reading this whimsical letter out loud to Grandpa and their three kids, including my mom, who had turned 11 years old just a few days earlier.

You try reading it out loud — fast!

[Envelope postmarked July 5, 1943; 1:30 P.M.; Sioux Falls, S. Dak]

P.f.c. L.L. Zornes

804 TSS, Barracks 1212

Army Technical School


Sioux Falls, South Dakota


Mrs. L.O. Zornes

R.F.D. #1

Spokane, Washington

Thurs, July 5 [Morse code marks over or under each character of date]

Dear Mom, Dad, and kids,

Some di-dah people say di-dah that studying di-dah Morse Code will di-dah make a guy di-dah “code-di-dah-dah-di-crazy” di-di-dah. But they are di-dah-dah mistaken. I’ve been going dah-di-dah to school for two whole dah-dah-di days studying di-di-dah code, and it hasn’t dah-di affected me a bit di-di yet.

Been going to school two days now and know a few letters in code. Believe me, it’s mighty tough, but I think it is going to be fun after I learn the code alphabet. We are also taking ‘theory’ of electricity and of radio mechanics. Our time is equally divided between “Code” and “Theory”. So we don’t get too tired of either. It seems like “good old school days” again, (all except the two hours of calethsentics and games). Code is kinda fun. There are about 150 soldiers in Code Class. We receive our instructions and teachings over ear phones. We get most of our training from phonograph records hooked up to the ear phone system. Yes, it’s going to be a mighty rough course, but I’m going to do my darnedest to make good.

How is the weather back in a good country? It’s colder than heck here now. Rather have it cold than hot though, by golly. How’s our garden? We have darned good food here, but I’d sure like to go into our garden and make me out a good meal on vegetables again. (Talking of eating, I sure can’t get used to eating supper at noon. Silly, ain’t it?) Has it ever stopped raining? I think we are getting your rain here, now. It hasn’t rained very much, but it’s always cloudy and trying it’s best to.

Well, shucks, there just ain’t no news here, so forgive me for writing such a short letter, but I just wanted to let you know I started school okay, and think I’m going to like it. (We have a few girl techettes, too! No wonder I’m thinkin’ I’ll like it”. Almost all instructors are civilians.)

Better close for now, as it’s almost bed time (4:00) and I gotta go take a shower and clean up and do a lot of ‘home work’, studying di-di-dahs, and reading about electricity (D.C. current) and so on.

Remember, I once said I’d never go to school again? Darned liar, wasn’t I? I’ll “half” addmit that I like school for a change, though.

Still looking for a letter or two from Spokane (hint-hint) so write soon please.

Bye for now.

Your di-di-dah son

as ever yours

P.f.c. di-dah-dah Les

Envelope. Notice postage is “Free”

Page 1 of letter
Page 2 of letter


On Monday, December 14, 2020, the Spokane City Council voted unanomously to change the name of “Fort George Wright Drive” to “Whistalks Way.”

This action begins to correct a series of significant wrongs spanning 162 years aimed at the native population in our area .

U.S. Army Col. George Wright was responsible for, among other things, the execution of Yakima sub-chief Qualchan, along with more than a dozen other local natives in 1858.

The name of the one-mile stretch of 4-lane road will honor Qualchan’s wife Whist-alks, who was known as a warrior woman that fought to save her husband from being hanged.

Here is an excerpt from Chapter 13 of “Not Forgotten: A Pacific Northwest Family Brings Their Soldier Home,” in which I describe the incident that led to the naming of “Hangman Creek,” also known as “Latah Creek,” along which my mother’s family settled in the 1930s and 1940s :

When [my mother’s brother] Verne was about ten years old [about 1935], the family moved to a farmhouse they rented about three miles south of Spokane, near a quiet neighborhood locals dubbed “Vinegar Flats.” This valley was home to the Keller-Lorenz Vinegar Works, a particularly fragrant factory that took advantage of the area’s plentiful apple orchards to make cider, malt, and white wine vinegar. Even though the factory closed in the late 1950s, and the canyon no longer smells like pickles, the neighborhood’s nickname lingers.

By the time Verne was 15, Grandma and Grandpa had purchased land a few hundred feet away from their rental on the bank of what is called “Latah Creek” on some maps. If you ask any local old timers where Latah Creek is, however, you’re just as likely to get a blank stare as a reliable answer. Or you might get directions to Latah, a tiny village with that name 30 miles southeast of Spokane Valley.

Ask about “Hangman Creek,” and we’ll give you precise guidance that would turn any GPS green with envy.

I was afraid of Hangman Creek – with good reason. I was an odd child, but I was no dummy. I had read that children’s horror story “Three Billy Goats Gruff” enough times to know evil can wait for long stretches of time in dark, chilly places under bridges. Because this creek had the word “Hangman” in its name, I understood monstrously patient masked creatures (I pictured dozens of drippy Shrek look-alikes with black ski-masks and no sense of humor) could hide like trolls under every bridge, with the sole purpose of snatching up little boys and girls to string up and nibble on.

As an adult, I learned about the truly gruesome series of events that gave the creek its creepy nickname. These took place during the lead-up to the Civil War, as the stream of white settlers from the East and Mid-West kept filling up what in the 1850s was Oregon Territory. Several local Native American tribes started raising a ruckus at what seemed like an unending invasion of their ancestral homelands, which, of course, it was.

In May of 1858, the U.S. Army dispatched Colonel Edward Steptoe to travel north from Ft. Walla Walla to meet with local tribal leaders in Colville and persuade them to calm down. But some of the tribes were done playing nice. They confronted the troops near Rosalia, about 30 miles south of Spokane. Because Steptoe wasn’t expecting any problems, his 150 or so soldiers carried very little ammunition. Under the cover of darkness, they made a skillful tactical retreat through the Palouse back to Walla Walla.

Four months later, Colonel George Wright decided to put a decisive end to all these “troubles.” To cripple the economic vitality of the local Indians, Wright ordered the slaughter of hundreds of prized horses near what is now State Line, Idaho. This got everyone’s attention. Wright then called for leaders from several tribes to gather and sign a treaty at a shallow crossing of the creek, some 25 miles upstream from where Spokane would later sprout up.

One of those leaders was Chief Qualchan of the Yakima tribe. He rode proudly into camp, apparently expecting to negotiate a deal with the Army.

Wright had something else in mind. He promptly ordered his soldiers to hang Qualchan from a tree along the bank of the creek. Before Wright was finished, more than a dozen Yakimas were executed in much the same way.

A stone marker at the site commemorates the hangings. It also notes that just a few hundred feet away, the tribal leaders who were not strung up signed a peace treaty, pretty much putting the kibosh on any organized resistance.

The name “Hangman Creek” stuck almost immediately.

Maps published by the U.S. Geological survey still recognize the name “Hangman Creek.” Toward the end of the 20th century, Spokane County and the State of Washington officially opted for the earlier “Latah Creek,” perhaps as a conciliatory nod to the tribes, or to keep from scaring away tourists and nervous little boys and girls.

In an act of in-your-face arrogance, the military in 1899 established Fort George Wright about a mile and a half north of where Hangman Creek empties into the Spokane River. For a time during World War II, Fort Wright became Pacific Northwest Headquarters for the U.S. Second Air Force. It provided ground school training for pilots and even top-secret training for spies.

In an act of poetic irony, the facility in 1990 became home to the Mukagawa Fort Wright Institute, an American language Japanese student exchange school.

I’ve also learned the pretty little creek (or “crick” as many pronounce it) forms from melted winter snow pack from the western-most slopes of the Rocky Mountains. It flows about 100 miles in a generally north and west direction, with dozens of tributaries draining water from nearly 700 square miles of the Palouse. Frequently in the early spring, higher than usual levels of snow melt can force the creek to surge over the edges of its banks.

The creek’s volume is highest through the Vinegar Flats canyon immediately before it joins the Spokane River west of downtown Spokane. The walls of the canyon give it the shape of a long spade, with the tip pointed generally toward the northwest. The mostly flat floor of the canyon narrows to about 300 yards.

Three features dominate the canyon floor, each meandering from the southeast towards the northwest: the creek, the Burlington Northern Railroad, and State Route 195, known locally as the Pullman Highway. From a bird’s point of view these three ribbons appear pinched together at a narrow spot centered on the bottom of the canyon.

That narrow spot is where the Zornes family purchased eight acres to put down roots in 1940. The long rectangular property was scrunched between the creek on the east and north, and a 25-foot high pile of rock that made up the rail bed for what was then the Union Pacific railroad on the west. Highway 195 finished the property’s frame on the south.

When you stand on the property and look east across the creek, your field of vision is filled with a tall wall of sandy dirt rising steeply for about 500 feet. Your eyes are instantly drawn to the top of the bluff upon which sits High Drive and Spokane’s South Hill. Before and after the war, well-to-do Spokanites built spacious homes along High Drive so they could gaze out over the less affluent residents in the green valley below.

Turning to the west, you see a gradual, pine and fir-speckled rise toward the West Plains, home to Spokane International Airport and Fairchild Air Force Base.

The sediment the creek piled here through the millennia has been good to this valley. When Verne was a teenager, the neighborhood was carpeted with orchards, family gardens, and truck farms, which supplied the city’s markets with fruit and vegetables. Today, manufactured housing has replaced much of what had been groves of fruit trees and fields of berries. Most of the orchards are gone but there still are a handful of commercial and community gardens and greenhouses.

Once they purchased the land, Grandpa and Verne spent evenings and weekends scraping and leveling the ground and building a simple two-story house. Emphasis on “simple.” It looked handmade. It was small with no fancy adornment. The exterior was plain wood planking, which Grandpa would later cover with a reddish tar paper siding textured to look like brick.

It must have seemed like Heaven.

Grandpa built the house toward the south end of his property and set it back from the highway enough for a broad driveway. He planned to put a gas station there to take advantage of motorists heading to and from Pullman and the rest of the Palouse. His plan later fell through when the state re-routed the highway. In fact, the state would declare eminent domain in 1960 and force Grandma and Grandpa to sell a large chunk of their property to widen Highway 195 from two to four lanes. Today, motorists traveling in the northbound lanes drive straight through the ghost of the Zornes’ living room.

In late 1941, things were looking up for the Zornes family as they got ready to settle into their modest dream home. Verne was gearing up to graduate from Spokane’s Lewis & Clark High School the following spring. He was learning automotive mechanics through a federal youth Technical and Vocational School program offered through Spokane School District 81. The program was housed less than a mile from Verne’s home at the Lowell Public School, a tan stucco structure which still stands at Inland Empire Way and 22nd Avenue.

Like so many 17-year-old boys, the world must have seemed to offer options limited only by his interests, talents, and gumption.

On December 7, an event three thousand miles away in Hawaii Territory would strip away his choices and narrow his path. It would also change the landscape of our town and the course of our family for generations.

September 4, 1943 – Masks all day, Rationing, Fall coming

This is the 39th letter P.f.c. Lester L. Zornes wrote home to Spokane, Washington while in the service during World War Two. By this time, he had been in the Army Air Forces for seven months and in Radio Operator and Mechanic Course at Army Technical School in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

I have inserted the text below the images:

Saturday, September 4, 1943

Dearest Mom, Dad, and kids,

Well, here it is, Fall already, at least it seems that way from the weather. It’s cold and rainy today. Seems kinda swell though, at that. The nights as so a person can use both blankets comfortably, nice and cool, you know. I’ve got a feeling the winter is going to be nice and cool. It has a good reputation, anyway, -40º. Brrrr. I hope to be out of here by then, though.

I passed my 14 word check last night [Morse Code], so I’ll be working on 16 words per minute. We have to have credit for 18 words before graduation, so that means I have to pass two more checks.

Well there’s nothing new from here, except tonight is my last night of school for a while. We go on days tomorrow, Sunday.

Today is gas mask day. The first Saturday of every month we have to wear our gas masks all day. Gosh I hate to lug the darned thing around, even to school. We have to wear them, even to chow.

How is the old Buick? Is it still running? I miss having it here to overhall every other day. It used to be lots of fun. Maybe I’ll overhall it again, some day. Are you guys careing for the tires? They are precious things, you know.

How is the top of the Cad? Does it still leak? How is the Gas situation? How about the truck gas? Does the twin horns still work on the Cad?

I think I’ll be qualified for Combat Duty, ‘fore I get out of here. I wouldn’t mind it, being Radio Operator and Gunner (or as it is called, Radio Gunner) on a B-17 or something of the like.

Lots of others are going off to combat and are coming back. Lots of them have
gone over and came back, so why shouldn’t I be able to get back okay. Some times I feel as though I’m anxious to go across and help get it over with, but think of the extra money I’d get. I’d get my 20% over seas pay, and flying pay, with a Staff Sgts rating. Gosh I’d draw down way over $130 per month. But don’t worry about it though, that’s a long way off yet.

Thanks for keeping the Cad shined for me. Tell Betty if her Ford worked like a Radio, I’d fix it for her. I’ve forgotten how to hold a wrench, it’s been so long.

Well, I’d better close for now. Write real soon please, and if you see Harold, ball him out for me for not writing.

Bye for now,
Love as always
P.f.c. Les.
The Italy news looks mighty good, huh?

Nov 10, 1943: Stormy Weather in Sioux Falls — “How is the weather back in good old Spokane?”

Here is the 51st letter our uncle P.f.c. Lester LaVerne Zornes mailed home during his training in WWII. At this point he was nearing completion of Radio Operations and Mechanics program at Army Technical School in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He would go on to serve as Radio Operator on board a C-47 troop transport plane with the 306 Troop Carrier Squadron, 442nd Troop Carrier Group. The first image is of the Radio Operator patch he mailed home.

As he did in nearly all of his letters, he had to check on the 1928 Cadillac his father purchased for him. His father had been working for the ALCOA Aluminum smelter in Mead, Washington for six months.

The text of all of his letters are included in the second half of “Not Forgotten: A Pacific Northwest Family Brings Their Soldier Home“.

[Envelope postmarked Nov 10, 1943, 10 AM; Sioux Falls, S. Dak.]

P.f.c. L.L. Zornes
804 T.S.S Bks. 1235
Army Technical School
A. A. F. T. T. C.
Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Mrs. L.O. Zornes
R.F.D. # 1
Spokane, Washington

Dear Mom, Dad, and kids,

“Beautiful, beautiful Texas” that’s what I’m singing now. I never realized how swell Texas was till about three days ago. Yes, siree, they don’t have blizzards in Texas. This was the first (Real) Blizzard I’ve been in. Honestly, it was terrible!!!!! Two days and nights straight the wind blew at rates of about 50 m.p.h. It quit snowing after the first couple days, but even after the skies were blue, there were so much snow in the air all the time that you couldn’t see but a few feet ahead of you. Some places the ground is bare,
and other places its piled up several feet high in drifts, especially around the buildings.

Today the wind is down and its fairly nice now. During the storm, it was almost impossible to walk against it, the wind would blow you backwards on the ice, no kidding. It blew so hard cars and busses couldn’t stay on the roads. Here on camp along a strip of road on the windward or northern side of camp, 4 busses and 1 or 2 trucks were ditched, within the distance of 2 blocks. All the trains were tied up and roads blocked and schools closed, businesses shut down. It was really a severe storm.

We may not get to fly this week because of bad weather. I’m hoping we can fly, though.

Well, next Monday, I’m graduating I hope. Graduation excercises are going to be held in town. They are sure keeping us busy, gosh, aint got time to do anything.

Did I tell you how much I enjoyed them thar cookies and cake? I devoured them the first day and night. Gosh, they were sure good. They were sure good. Thanks ever so much Mom. Say Mom, I won’t send any money home till after I ship from here and get settled at my next camp, just in case I should need something unexpectedly. Okay?

So, the Old Cadillac is getting cranky, huh? Are you treating her good? Tell her to be good and not act up like that or I won’t like her any more (so it says here). Oh, well, if the Cad don’t run, Rich [12 year old brother] can drive Dad to work in the Ford (again it says here). How is the weather back in good old Spokane? I sure hope you don’t get any blizzards like the one we had. The wind even ripped off a lot of our storm doors on the barracks.

Say Mom, I’ll send you a graduation patch when I graduate, the kind I’ll wear on my sleeve. I think they are pretty.

How’s the kids and school and so on? Does Lois [sister] still like High School as well as she use to? Tell her I’m ashamed of those low grades. Gosh, she could at least get keep up the great tradition of high grades I left there at L.C. [Lewis & Clark H.S.] Be quiet, Mom. Nuff said. No remarks.

Well, Mom, I’m running out of news so will close for now. Tell the Foreman of the Pot Room (to be) to keep the old Cad running good, cause ‘twould seem mighty funny if the foreman should be late, would be a very poor example to set up for his men. Tell him also that if he’d [get rid of] some of that tummy of his, the Cad wouldn’t have to work so hard and might work better. I’m proud of that tummy of his’n anyhow, cause it’s not every man that can have a ‘white coller” job and get a Pot Room Pot Belly (or is it Beer belly) huh?

I’ll try to write sooner next time, but you know how it is. I owe everybody a letter. Lottie. Harold [buddy]. Lena and Doris and Pauline and Johnny and Kiku and every body, but I just ain’t got time right now. If you see Harold, tell him I’ll try and write him soon.

Bye for now,
As always
Love and Love and Love
P.f.c. Les.

Radio Operator Patch

Join us for our official book launch!

When: Saturday, October 12, 2019
3:00 pm to 5:00 pm

Where: Sans Souci West Club House
3231 West Boone Avenue
Spokane, WA 99201
(Former site of Old Natatorium Park)

No charge. We’ll provide snacks and refreshment.

Travel back to Spokane during World War Two.

See historic pictures, letters and documents not included in the book “Not Forgotten: A Pacific Northwest Family Brings Their Soldier Home”

Get your copy of the book signed by the author!

For more information please email [email protected] or call 509-216-2611

July 14, 1943, Sioux Falls, SD — Aviation Cadet School sales talk

The following letter is included in the book Not Forgotten: A Pacific Northwest Family Brings Their Soldier Home.

Our uncle Pfc Lester L. Zornes mailed it home on July 14, 1943. He was in the U.S. Army Air Forces for four months and in Radio Operations and Mechanics School for about three weeks. In this letter, he tries to sell his parents on his plan to join Aviation Cadet school to become a pilot.

Scroll down to see the original images of this letter

[Postmarked July 14, 1943, 1:30 p.m.; Sioux Falls, S. Dak.; Postage free; letter not dated]

P.f.c. L.L. Zornes
804 TSS (Technical School Squadron)
Bks. 1212
Army Technical School
Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Mrs. L.O. Zornes
R.F.D. # 1
Spokane, Washington

Dear Mom, Dad and kids,

Well here it is. My day off and no pass to go to town. Next week, I hope the barracks pass inspection and we’ll all get our passes again.

Saturday was pay day, and immediately this barracks was one big gambling joint. Craps, poker, Blackjack, and everything that pertained to gambling. Some of the boys played craps at a dollar a throw. Some of the boys don’t like that I won’t even play for 5¢ a hand Blackjack. Some of the boys were ‘out’ about $20 in one night. A few boys came in drunk. Everybody is getting broke now, so it’s quieting down a little.

Here comes the mailman with the mail. Hope I get one. “Zornes”. “Right here”, and I got a letter. Ahah! Just guess where (Spokane) and who it’s from (Mrs. L.O. Zornes). Just a shake while I read it.

You know, I’ve got that same feeling, too, that South Dakota isn’t very far from home, just on the east side of Montana, but it is a long way.

Yep, we get lots of rain, too, in fact it’s raining now, or trying to. But the last few days has been very hot.

Gosh, would I love to see the garden. Doggone. I’d love to eat a good vegetable dinner right now. Once in a while we get some lettuce, onions or radishes, but they are usually wilted and old.

Say, Dad, do you still like your job? Do you still have your passengers? If you do, how do they like the Cadillac? (I’m always thing about the “Cad”, all the time. I just can’t help it, I guess).

Did you guys go bowling Sat. night? I hope so. If you did, tell me about it.

I’ve got my stripes sewed on almost all my clothes now. I wish you pin some “bars” on my shoulders instead of stripes on my sleeves, which reminds me, Mom. I have been thinking rather serious about trying out for “Cadets”. “Aviation Cadets”! That is one of the toughest “fights” in the army, to make Cadets and graduate. That also is one reason I’d like to try out for it. Only about 10 % or less have been making the ‘grade’ out of all the ones that tried. I’d like to challenge myself. It’s a long hard, tiring grind. Fifteen long months of it. If I’d put in my application for Cadets in a month or two, I’d be called about the time I graduate from here (I’m taking 8 words per minute in code). I’d have to take my physical over again, because as they say, the Aviation Cadets are carefully picked and examined, and are the “Cream of the Crop”. It would be an honor to just be picked for Cadet Training.

Here’s what would happen to me if I could go straight through. I would appear before Aviation Cadet Board and interviewed. Then sent to, possibly, Sheppard Field, to be shipped to College from there. Five months college then to Primary training, then Basic. Graduate from basic as a “Flight Officer” or 3rd Lt., and then to Advanced Training. By that time, 15 months have gone by, and the war would possible be over. I’d have my ‘silver wings’ and gold, and maybe ‘silver’ bars.

From the “washed out” Cadets I’ve talked to they’ve all told me to try it. I’ll quote some of them, Quote: “From the time you start College you are treated like a man instead of a soldier. You are ‘mister’ and ‘sir’, instead of ‘Hey soldier’ or ‘Hey you, yes I mean you, you ignoran.”

The uniforms are the same as worn by officers and soldiers respect you very highly, and some times salute you”.

“That $75 a month comes in mighty handy.”

Oh, there is no life in the Army compared to it. Hotel rooms with 4 in a room, restaurant meals, expensive silverware. Lots of free time, with no passes required.

It’s tough. Very tough. They’ll ‘gig’ you for the slightest little thing, shave once a day, a clean suit of clothes a day, etc. But I’d go through it again if my eyes would let me.

One of my classmates here served 9 months in Cadets during the old 9 to 12 month Cadet course. Seven weeks before he was to have received his commission, he was “washed out” because of a slight defect in his eyes. He’s told me time and time again that the most foolish thing for me to do is to stick it out here when I could be going to Cadets. He says I’d kick myself for not going as soon as possible. The two main reasons for “wash outs” is Horseplay, which will not be tolerated, and physical defects, which wouldn’t hold me back, I don’t think. Even the slightest detection of nerves be jittery or anything like that will “wash you out”. He says if a man goes in there determined and with everything he’s got, he can usually make it. He says also that it is very tough, tougher than can be told, but he says you don’t mind it, because you’re working for something, getting ahead.

Well I’d better quit this sales talk, but I’d like to have your advice on it. I’ve painted the sunny side of it, but you can get some idea of what it’s like. I’d sure like to fly and wear my silver wing and bars. It’s something to fight for, huh?

Well, say, I’d better close for now as it’s getting pretty late. Write soon.

With Love to all.
Your loving son
P.f.c. Les.

P.S. Will send some money home as soon as I can get to a post office where I can get a money order. Okay?

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