THE LUCK OF THE DRAW
FENTON ROSKELLEY AND VI SHIPMAN, CORNWALL, 1944
Sentimental Journey
—LES BROWN, BEN HOMER & ARTHUR GREEN, 1944
A slip of paper drawn at random from a hat led to happily ever after for Fenton and Violet Roskelley.
Violet, from Yorkshire, England had been drafted into the British ATS (Auxiliary Territorial Service) in 1943. She wasn’t pleased about it, feeling the army was no place for a properly raised British girl. Because of the war, brash, young American soldiers were everywhere, and the British girls were crazy about them.
But not Violet.
“I told my sister, Betty, ‘Don’t get mixed up with an American,’” she recalled. “They were a little too friendly for me.”
The apple-cheeked beauty worked in communications at a command post in Cornwall. “The battery was stationed on a cliff overlooking the sea,” she said. “German bombers flew over us, but fortunately the bombs they dropped ended up in the sea!”
One day a message arrived requesting an operator at regimental headquarters. In the interest of fairness, Violet suggested they put all 12 operators’ names in a hat and draw one to see who would have to be transferred. Violet reached in and drew out a slip of paper. To her dismay she drew her own name. “I was very upset. I didn’t want to leave all my friends,” she said. But, off she went to headquarters at Penhale House in Cornwall.
One afternoon in May 1944 she decided to take a walk to the sea, its beauty marred only by the barrage balloons that floated overhead. “Along comes this good-looking American,” she said. He offered a friendly greeting and asked if he could accompany her. “Right away I realized he was intelligent. We just talked and visited, and then he asked if he could see me again.” The soldier was Fenton Roskelley from Challis, Idaho. He’d graduated from the University of Idaho in 1938 with a degree in journalism, proud that he’d written the most column inches for the college newspaper. In 1940 he was hired as a copy editor and beat reporter for the Spokane Daily Chronicle, earning $18 a week. He loved the work, but duty called. Fenton was drafted into the Army in 1942. Assigned to the 776th Liberty Bell anti-aircraft battalion, he soon set sail for England. “My outfit was attached to her regiment,” he said.
Fenton vividly remembers that first meeting. “I knew the type of girl she was from our first conversation. I knew instantly that she was the girl for me.”
For Violet, meeting Ross—as she called him—shattered her preconceived notions about Americans. “I thought his name was Ross Kelley, so I’ve always called him Ross,” she said, laughing. But she grew serious as she gazed at him. “He was a gentleman, educated, everything a girl could want,” she said. Then she grinned. “Despite the fact that he was an American.”
He courted her with long walks in the countryside, dart games at the local canteen and K-rations. “I loved to eat the chocolate out of the rations,” Violet said. “It wasn’t great chocolate, but it was more than we had at the time.”
VIOLET SHIPMAN, 1943.
Soon Fenton got word that he was being shipped out. Before he left he asked Violet if she would agree to be engaged. They’d known each other just six weeks. “I couldn’t imagine living in America where the gangsters are!” she said. “England was my whole world. I’d never even thought about marrying an American!”
Still, before he left she agreed to the engagement. The couple kept in touch by mail, as Fenton went to Paris and then to Germany. He grinned: “I was living in foxholes. I had nothing better to do than to write letters.” Those missives meant everything to his sweetheart. “I still have every letter he wrote me,” Violet said.
She had been sent to Kent. “It was scary in Seven Oakes,” she said. “Every night V-rockets would come over. Fortunately none hit our area.” The rockets went on to London where they destroyed both buildings and people.
One day she got a telegram from her mother. It read, “Violet, you’d better get leave. Ross is coming home to marry you.” Shaking her head, Violet said, “So, I got a 10-day leave and went home to Yorkshire.” She hastily made arrangements for the wedding.
Meanwhile, in Germany, Fenton also made wedding preparations. “For the first time in my life, I used the black market,” he said. He gathered cigarettes and sugar to barter. “I wanted my bride to have a good honeymoon, and I wanted to have money to spend on her.” He collected the equivalent of $500 and presented it to Violet. He chuckled. “She’d never seen so much money in her life!”
They married on March 23, 1945 in a small church. Both wore their uniforms. Violet’s regiment had one wedding dress that they shared among them. She shuddered, “I could have worn the regimental wedding dress, but everyone else had worn that.” She didn’t have much of trousseau, either. “I’d given away most of my clothes because I thought I’d be in the Army forever.”
On their honeymoon the realities of marriage set in for her new husband. “I had to go shopping with her,” he said, raising his shoulders. “I’ve never liked shopping.” Violet got an eye-opener herself, when her new husband tipped a cab driver with a one-pound note, instead of the customary 10 shillings. “I took charge of the money after that.” She found the American penchant for taking cabs, bewildering. “They would never take a bus. They spent more money on taxis than I made in a week!”
When their honeymoon ended, Fenton returned to duty in Germany. He’d been asked to set up a journalism school and publish a paper for the troops in Allied-occupied Germany. The paper was called The Rhine Valley News. He considered the project the most satisfying accomplishment of his military career. Almost 60 years later, he was baffled to find no mention of The Rhine Valley News during Internet searches.
Twelve American sergeants had operated a unique, first-of-its-kind journalism school for budding reporters and would-be linotype and press operators for two months in Heidelberg after the end of the war. They published two newspapers for thousands of soldiers, as well as brigade and battalion histories. “But it doesn’t even rate a hit on Google,” he said. All that remains of the groundbreaking project resides in an old suitcase in Fenton’s basement—a few dozen fading copies of The Rhine Valley News. While he relished the work, he missed his bride. In August of 1945 they enjoyed a brief reunion before Fenton was shipped home with his unit. He returned to his civilian job at the Daily Chronicle and waited for his wife to join him.
In April 1946 Violet endured an arduous 14-day crossing to America on the H.M.S. Huddleston. “I was seasick the entire time,” she sighed. The ship’s newspaper had a headline that read, “Muddling Across the Puddle on the Huddle. Columbus did it faster and he had sails.”
ROSKELLEY WEDDING, 1945.
FENTON ROSKELLY, MILITARY JOURNALISM SCHOOL, 1945. ROSKELLY IS AT FAR LEFT, BENDING OVER DESK.
While aboard ship, she was awakened every morning by the song, Sentimental Journey. “I couldn’t listen to that tune for a long time,” she said.
Once off the ship she boarded a train in Chicago for a weeklong journey to Spokane, arriving in the city at night. Violet had endured London blackouts for so long, the sight of the city rolling out before her, glittering with lights, took her breath away. She said, “It looked like a fairyland. I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.” Her handsome husband was there to greet her when she arrived. “I’ve never regretted bringing my bride over,” he said. “I was so happy to see her!”
And her fairyland came complete with a little yellow house and a white picket fence. Daughter, Patricia, arrived in 1947, followed by son, John, in 1948.
Violet embraced her new homeland and became an American citizen in 1949. “You can tell she lost her accent,” Fenton teased. She wasn’t the only one taking citizenship classes in 1949. “There were lots of us British girls taking the class,” she said. In fact, her children remember many gatherings of the “English Ladies.”
ROSKELLEY SNAPPED THIS PHOTO OF 3 FAMOUS GENERALS IN GERMANY, 1945. FROM LEFT TO RIGHT, PATTON, BRADLEY, AND EISENHOWER.
Violet was happy with two children, but in 1960, a daughter, Heather, surprised them. “It was a wonderful thing!” she said.
Fenton was an outdoor writer, editor and reporter for Spokane newspapers for more than 60 years. There isn’t a river or stream in the great northwest he didn’t walk and cast a fly from its banks; nor a lake he didn’t know the depth to the inch. He never missed a day of work, writing as many as six stories or columns a week. Of course, fishing and hunting was part of his job description.
In 1986, the couple returned to England as guests of the British tourism department. Violet said, “It was odd to be a ‘guest’ in my home country!”
When asked to what he attributes the longevity of their marriage, Fenton grinned at his wife and replied, “I married the type of woman who doesn’t like change.” Violet returned his smile. “My husband is handsome, intelligent, thoughtful, a good provider. What more could a girl want?”
Nothing.
The couple is well aware of the part luck plays in their story. A story made possible by a slip of paper, drawn from a hat.
LOVE LESSON
“I’ve always been one to stick with people. Once I decided Vi was the one I loved, that was it.”— Fenton Roskelley
ROSKELLYS ON THE OREGON COAST, 2010. Photo courtesy of the family.
Violet Roskelley died July 27, 2012
Fenton Roskelley died January 30, 2013