Frederick J. Nachman

My father kept very orderly records. Several years after his death in 1973, I found the Record Jacket containing his papers from World War II and potential Korean War service. He didn’t talk much about the Army – combat exempt because of his eyesight, he spent most of the war as an MP in a POW camp in western Illinois – so I know very few details about those years.

One document piqued my interest.

After graduating college in 1938, Dad lived in Chicago with his parents and brother in a small apartment at 7300 S. South Shore Dr. and worked downtown as a CPA. He either enlisted or was drafted into the U.S. Army in late April 1942. The inductees from a certain South Side area would report to Local Board No. 90 at 2474 E. 75th St. for transport to the Induction Station at 515 S. Franklin St. (neither building exists).

I have no idea how many men this entailed or the process whereby my father was chosen as a Leader. Among eleven instructions for the “journey” downtown: “You are responsible for the safe arrival and good conduct of your party.” Given this most likely entailed a 10-mile bus ride, I doubt Dad had few if any serious issues to manage.

At age 33, with twin 18-month-old sons, my father’s face turned ashen (so my mother told) after opening an Army induction notice in August 1950. How he avoided that is grist for another Storied Stuff.