Clyde and hs wife reunited after the war

As a Texan, one of the things we take pride in is stories of other Texans. The below anecdote is one of my favorites. Written by local Wichita Falls boy, Clyde Fillmore, who spent 46 months in a Japanese POW camp in the Pacific.

He wrote an excellent memoir in later years that included images he drew while a prisoner. The photo is Clyde and his wife, reunited for the first time in late 1945.

The official description of the photos from the UTA Library is: “After 46 months of waiting, Captain and Mrs. Clyde C. Fillmore were reunited at the Texas & Pacific Railway Station in Fort Worth, Texas. As a member of the Lost Battalion, Captain Fillmore's whereabouts were unknown to everyone, including his wife. The captain was recently liberated from a Japanese prison camp. He is dressed in a military uniform. Mrs. Fillmore is wearing a blouse, blazer, and a skirt. The couple are natives of Wichita Falls, Texas. They are standing in front of the train, kissing.”

Some time I’ll share more stories from his book. It’s worth the time. But here is a whimsical story that captures the impact of Texans in WWII. I say impact tongue and cheek. I’m pretty sure the fellow in the below story had more trauma to unpack from his time surrounded by Texans than the actual pow experience.

Excerpt from “Prisoner of War” by Clyde Fillmore

"You remember that when we left Singapore in January of 1943, we were forced to leave nine men who were too sick to travel. Well, of these nine, eight were from Texas; the other one hailed from Massachusetts. It isn't difficult to imagine this one fellow's plight nor imagine his misery as he was forced to listen to eight loyal Texans day after day.

In 1944, a B-29 was shot down over Singapore, and three of the survivors eventually found themselves with the nine Americans. The prisoner from Massachusetts was elated and approached them almost with prayerful expectancy. Alas! They were all from Texas.

When the war ended another B-29 came in to take them to Calcutta for hospitalization, where we met them once more. However, the prisoner from Massachusetts had not given up hope, so when the big plane landed, he rushed up to the pilot, a young first lieutenant, and asked him where he came from. In an unmistakable drawl, he answered, "I'm from Texas."

Hope had, by this time, almost died, but being a rather stubborn individual, he did not give up so easily. After about an hour in the air he noticed that the navigator was a full blood Chinaman. He sidled up to him and asked in a faltering voice, "And how long have you been away from China?"

Came the answer, "Why, I'm not from China; I was born in San Antonio, Texas!"