New book tells the story of smoke-jumping COs

By CONSTANCE SEE - Whitefish Pilot

Women would often whistle when he walked by, but the men would cuss at him and call him "yellow," "traitor" or "worthless."

Becoming a conscientious objector during World War II was one of the toughest decisions Phil Stanley ever made in his life. Friends of his were sent to jail for choosing not to show up when they were drafted. Stanley was one of about 7,000 objectors during the war.

"We tried to hide that we were COs," Stanley said. "There were very few of us at the time. We didn't talk about it, but as a young, healthy, eligible man living at home as a civilian — you stood out."

Stanley, of Polson, and David Kauffman, of Whitefish, will speak March 1 about their experiences as religious objectors trained to be smoke jumpers for the Forest Service during World War II. Some of the men's stories are highlighted in Mark Matthews' new book, "Smoke Jumping on the Western Line."

Stanley said growing up in China as the son of Quaker missionaries prepared him for being a minority in the pro-war climate in America during the 1940s.

When drafted in 1942, he requested a 4-E classification based on the teachings of his faith, as a member of The Religious Society of Friends (Quakers).

"It's a very simple faith," Stanley said. "The main belief is we can talk directly to God. We don't need intermediaries or priests or pastors. I had a tremendous emotional struggle over this issue of war. I knew my draft number was coming up soon. All the benefits of being a veteran, I would lose if I wasn't a soldier — free education, discounts on meals, and on and on."

Drafted conscientious objectors were sent to camp and given menial tasks, Stanley said, but he wanted to give more to his country. He came up with the idea of using COs as smoke jumpers with the Forest Service. Approximately 250 men were trained and employed by the Forest Service in Region 1 over a period of three years.

When he was first drafted, Stanley said, the pay was $2.50 a month. As smoke jumpers, that amount doubled to $5 a month.

According to Matthews' book, some "church camps" experienced trouble.

"At one Mennonite camp, for example, two men tarred and feathered the director," he wrote.

Neither Stanley nor Kauffman experienced anything as dramatic.

War and killing people conflicted with his faith as a Mennonite, Kauffman said..

"I'm not against serving my country. I just prefer to do it constructively," Kauffman said. "We were considered somewhat elite among the conscientious objectors. It was different. There were a lot of guys who wanted to join us but weren't chosen. I enjoyed it."

Kauffman remembers two weeks of rigorous physical training before going up in a plane and jumping. Training included learning how to get down from a tree if their parachutes became snagged — and they learned by actually landing in a tree.

Everyone in Kauffman's group put a dime into a kitty. Whoever landed the highest won the pot, a lot of money for the time. He was the winner after he got hung up about 60 feet from the ground. He jumped down the last 12 feet when he ran out of rope.

Kauffman's first fire was in Idaho. He was one of seven jumpers sent to help the Forest Service supervisor. He worked on the fire for five days. He volunteered for the dangerous assignment of retrieving another group of firefighters who were trapped when the fire jumped the fire line and surrounded them in a marshy area near a creek.

"The fire was on both sides of us, but we all got out," Kauffman said.

He was fighting a fire when the end of the war was announced. Kauffman said he was jubilant when he heard the Japanese surrendered.

"I was glad it meant no more loss of life," Kauffman said. "I don't believe in war. It's never solved any problems."

"The men demonstrated to themselves and to others that they were not cowards," Sen. George McGovern says in the book's preface. "Rather, they were willing to jump out of an airplane at the edge of a raging fire and fight with every resource they could muster to save America's matchless forests. Their religion told them not to kill people but to save them — and to nurture God's beautiful creation."

The 316-page hardcover book includes photos, maps and interviews with other jumpers. Inside "Smoke Jumping on the Western Line" includes tales of the bear that ate the smoke jumpers' chewing tobacco, the lightning strike that blasted through a lookout tower, the rattlesnake in a sleeping bag and close calls as burned snags collapsed around the men.

Matthews and Kauffman will speak Thursday, March 1, at 6:30 p.m. at the Mennonite Church of Kalispell at 795 Mennonite Church Road in Creston. The free meeting will include a potluck supper and a short video about smoke jumping.

For more information, call 862-1629.