John P. Haxton's Memoirs

I was born November 2, 1923 to the union of David Page Haxton and Alison Margaret Davidson Anderson Haxton at Good Samaritan Hospital in Sandusky, Ohio. After my parents were married, the local friends and neighbors came to their house late one night to bell them. One of those was the local blacksmith, a giant of a man. He was six foot six, and his name was Matt Thorn. He put his black hands on Mother's kitchen ceiling and left his black hand prints on Mother's white kitchen ceiling which made her very unhappy. Matt Thorn was the father of Lenny Thorn, an All-American tackle at Ohio State in the late thirties. He was probably best remembered as John F. Kennedy's executive officer aboard the PT109. In the Spring of 1924, a tidal wave hit Sandusky and forced Mother to carry me on her shoulders to higher ground, with a bottle of milk in each coat pocket. Dad and Watson Butler were in Columbus buying Woodside Farms at 4666 Sunbury Road. I did not start school until I seven in 1929. The four of us went to Scotland to see Grandmother Haxton and other family members. Dad went to France and bought 4 or 5 Percheron mares. After Dave was born, Mother put him out in the back yard. The painters were working around. One of them looked in the carriage; "Rabb", the family dog growled and acted threatening. I said "Oh, that's alright, you can have him if you want him (and not meaning the dog). I started grade school in 1930. After getting home from school, I would head for the barn. My job was to lead Laet to the water trough. I could just reach the lower ring of his halter to strap the lead shank. In 1937 I joined the 4-H program. My project was a filly foal by Laet, Liblaet. Dad insisted that I lead her every day to teach the foal and myself the correct way to show a draft horse. I showed her at Hilliard, London, and the Ohio State Fair. We placed first at each show and were awarded the Moores and Ross Trophy. While in grade school, I always admired the high school athletes and the "Letter" they wore on their sweater. We played basketball in junior high school. One night, I could not miss and got 32 points. The next day at school I heard the high school students say, "There goes that kid that scored 32 points last night." So I earned my first letter in the eighth grade. I made the varsity football team as a freshman, but I did not get to play much. Dad took the manager's job for Fairholme Farm at Lewisville, Indiana. I went on the Fair Circuit in 1939 with Dad and a good string of Percherons at five major shows. We showed 9 grand champions. At the Chicago International, I begged and pleaded to show "Nesus". But I had to settle for throwing the Fairholme blanket on him after Claude' Butler had shown him to the championship. At the close of the 1939 International, William Skidmore (one of Al Capone's boys) wanted to hire Dad to manage Pine Tree Farm at McHenry, Illinois. He told Dad he could write his own ticket (salary) and could import a boat load of Percherons. Skidmore just wanted to win. Much later I asked Dad why he didn't take the job. He said "I could never take that tainted money and I had my reputation to protect". In the fall of 1939, Dad took over the horse manager job at Hawthorne Melody Farm at Libertyville, Illinois. I took a job with the six horse team and rode on their wagon with driver Karl Reichmuth. I also got paid (I think $25.00 a week). I even got to drive them a couple of times at home on the farm. Thus, my love for big hitches. For me, one of the highlights at Chicago was the halter class for Commercial Gelding. I was always proud to be showing against the likes of Walt Brady and Frank Howsley. In 1940, Uncle Andy won it with Sir James. Haxton was second. Wilson and company was third with King, a horse with a black leg in front. I was 5th with Peter Hawthorne's Off Leader. In the Tandem class, Uncle Andy' won with Sir James in the shafts. Dad was second with Haxton and Pete. I remember the announcer making the remark that there were three Haxtons in the ring at the same time, one of them being a horse. In 1940, we moved back to Ohio and lived on Sunbury Road. While Dad looked for a farm to buy, I played left tackle for Mifflin High School. We had a pretty good season. We beat Gahanna Lincoln 20 to 7, they being our chief rival. I was being groomed to take Agler's place at fullback the next year. Dad bought the High Street Farm around the first of October 1940. That was the end of my football career. I played basketball and baseball for Orange High School. I caught for the baseball team. We won the county championship. We were eliminated in the quarter finals of the state tournament. I graduated from Orange High in'1942. I went to work for Central Ohio Paper Company in Columbus. About the first of August, I went to work for Kilgore Manufacturing in Westerville. I had been able to buy a car by now. That summer, I played baseball for Worthington Legion, slow pitch for Sunbury News, and fast pitch for Sunshine Corner in Linden. Talk about a frustrated ball player. I couldn't hit my shoe strings! February 4, 1943, I boarded a train in Delaware along with about 20 other guys, knowing only 2 or 3 of them. We were delivered to Fort Benjamin Harrison near Indianapolis. When interviewed, I was asked "What are you qualified to do?" I told him I was pretty good around a horse. Was told the army is getting rid of the horses. I was shipped to Camp Hood at Temple, Texas. Was issued a complete army kit. Army uniforms come in 2 sizes - too big and too small. The camp was in the process of being built. The barracks weren't finished and no streets or sidewalks. I was one homesick farm boy and started smoking after thirteen weeks. After basic training I was shipped to Shenango near Youngstown, Ohio. I was then shipped to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, and assigned to the "A" Battery 83rd Armored Field Artillery Battalion. The outfit was next sent to Fort Jackson at Columbia, South Carolina. Next stop was Camp Kilmer, New Jersey. We were shipped overseas about the first of December, 1943. Fourteen days on that bucket of bolts and was not sea sick one time. Caught some kind of work detail every day while shipping over. Landed at Swansea, Wales. Had to wait to disembark because of an air raid on Swansea. Moved by rail to South Littleton (Worcestershire) England. We are now in Shakespeare Country. After a two week quarantine, we were turned loose on the locals. The first night out any number of guys showed up with black eyes and bruised faces. They claimed, "I walked into a light pole". It does get really foggy at night in England. In about two weeks we started to draw vehicles - M.T. 's (tanks), half trucks, etc. This started the destruction of the quaint old English streets and roads (most of them brick and centuries old). The Battalion made two or three trips to Wales to fire in the ocean to calibrate the guns. Fire direction would sit up on a high hill looking out on the water and could see the pattern of fire. We used to buy fresh eggs from the Welsh and fill ourselves with eggs. About the first of May, 1944, we moved to Lyme Regis in the south of England. We moved to South Hampton, loaded L.S.T.'s (Landing Ships Tanks), and shipped cross channel to Utah Beach on June 19th. The guns went in position, but we did not fire one round. On August first, the bust out began. At Auvanches, the 6th Armor Division broke into Brittany Peninsula. We were attached to the 6th and headed for the Port of Brest. We avoided as much resistance as possible. They wanted to get to Brest, in hopes they could get a channel Port they could use, but Brest held out until the end of the War. Somewhere enroute we came into a little French town where the Free French were in command of a young woman with a bare mid-drift and an American 45 pistol stuck in her waistband. Taking charge of all German prisoners, I wonder if those Krauts ever saw Germany again. About the first of September, we drew back from Brest to Rennis for a month of R & R. Then we marched north to Masstrich, Belgium and Aachen, Germany areas. On December 11th, the Germans had one last fling. The Battle of the Bulge began. We pulled back to help head them off. Going through Leige, Devaney hit a cement light pole which stopped us cold. During the night, the buzz bombs kept coming into the city. When daylight came, we walked down to see the damage done by one that hit a couple blocks away. It totalled a three story building. The people were raking through the rubble looking for survivors. By mid-morning, the mechanics had us on our way to join the Battalion fire in support of the 82nd Airborne near Grandmanel, Belgium. This was when we were attached to the 3rd Armored Division known as the Spearhead Division. We stayed attached to them for the duration of the War. The Allied Armies went on the offense to close Ruhr Pocket, later named the Rose Pocket in tribute to Maurice Rose, 3rd Armored Commander. He was killed near Padaborne on March 6, 1945, the same day four of us were strafed by an ME 109. We were strafed by fire in front of a stone barn. I dove inside the door. I knew I was hit. The first thing I did was unbutton the front of my clothes to see if shrapnel went through me. No. We piled into a jeep and went back to service battery. Dr. Decker dug the shrapnel and a lot of red tile out of my back and butt. They gave me the Purple Heart Medal and advised me to watch that none of the punctures festered. We moved on to close the Rose Pocket at Padaborne and on the Rhine River. We crossed the river at Remagen on a pontoon bridge built by the engineers. We encountered no resistance from the Germans. We advanced on east and crossed the Elbe River. We were told after a couple of days that we were on the Russian's side of the river and were pulled back to the other side. The War was over and we were anxious to get back home. They set up a point system. Points for service in the states, points for service overseas, and points for battle stars. The 83rd was made a low point outfit. Those with 85 points were shipped out. I had 4 points. Now, true to form, the army changed their mind and made the 83rd a low point outfit. I was put on a 40 and 8 (40 men or 8 horses) and headed for La Harve, France and Camp Lucky Strike to wait shipping back to the States. Before we got to Lucky Strike, we stopped at a transit kitchen for some food. The guys were talking about how they dropped one bomb on Japan and wiped out a whole city. I remember thinking there is no bomb that big. Never had I heard the word atomic. Nothing to do at Lucky Strike but play fast pitch softball and check the shipping list. My name came up on September 24th to ship back to the States aboard the Maraposa. In five days we landed in Boston. We moved by rail to Camp Miles Standish. In two or three days, were shipped to Indiantowp Gap at Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. The army gave me a cash partial pay. I called about the train schedule to Columbus. The Ohio Stater left Harrisburg about ten o'clock p.m. I called my folks and told them when I would arrive. They met me at union station very early in the morning. We got to the farm about daylight. The dog "Nell" went crazy with joy when she saw me. I was home about a week. Then I went back to Indiantown Gap. In two days, I was discharged (October 15, 1945). This started a time to play. I did nothing for the next six months. I finally got play out of my system. Dave got home in the Spring of 1946. We took a job helping to build the Delaware Dam. In February 1947, I went to Michigan State to take a 16 week course in Horse Shoeing. When I came home, I went to Hilliard raceway (predecessor to Scioto Downs) and worked for anyone that would ask me to floor for them. I got some practice and learned from those I worked for and made eating money also. I was asked by a trainer to move to Washington Court House and shoe for him. I jumped at the chance. I worked for the next forty years. I wintered at a number of towns in Ohio and spent summer at a raceway or a county fair. I enjoyed working at my trade and enjoyed ,the camaraderie and the excitement at the race track. I finished my work days at Delaware. I also taught shoeing at J.V.S. and Eastern Vocational School. 1984