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114 The Final Years: Richard Thim Growing up in Chandler, Arizona, Richard Thim was no stranger to outdoor work: I got a job weeding cotton fields for ten cents a row, and they were long rows. I would work all day and maybe get a dollar fifty. My dad had some difficult times too. He worked at whatever job he could get. Times were tough trying to support a family. One day he saw a story in the paper about the CCC and we talked about it. I was in my second year of high school, but I decided to quit and join up. I ended up first going to Phoenix to get a physical exam. I had felt a little lonely that first day until I heard someone say, “Hello, Richard.” I looked up, and there was a friend of mine from the days when I was weeding cotton. We stuck together after that and I didn’t feel so bad. After that, they boarded us on trains and we made our way to Holbrook. We really had no special training at CCC-type work beforehand. Nospecial fanfaregreeted Richard whenhisgrouparrived atBlue Camp. “They simply met us with trucks,” he remembered, “and drove us south toward the forest” (Thim interview, 30 October 1999). There were formal rules to be learned when new enrollees arrived at camp. Orientation started with special instructions on camp behavior and etiquette delivered by the supervising army officer, either via direct contact or in the camp newspaper. Richard said that most of the rules were “by the [military] book” and mirrored army barracks regulations. The new arrivals got a less formal education when they had the opportunity to mingle with their bunkmates. Most of the advice was common sense. Experienced enrollees gently tried to remind the new fellows that Chapter 9 the final years j 115 proper behavior was expected. One camp newspaper suggested that the men treat their tents as they would their homes: Don’t throw your cigarettes or matches on the floor . . . do not talk after the lights are out, and treat your tent mates as you would your brothers. . . . [T]here is enough water to take baths and wash your hands and face as often as they need it. Those using the recreation building were told: There is no profanity allowed and you are the one to see that it is not used. If you miss a shot while playing pool, think before you curse, or someone has to politely ask you to leave. Old-timers would sometimes take problem recruits aside and “talk” to them about their conduct.1 In camp, the men had two sets of clothes. In the early days there was no standard uniform for everyday work; blue denim pants and any old work shirt were good enough. Enrollees were given a dress uniform that included a shirt, tie, and trousers, all of which had a wartime look. Many young men correctly suspected they were World War I surplus. Richard didn’t particularly like his uniform no matter where it came from. It was made of scratchy wool, and the pants were uncomfortably narrow at the ankles. On a visit to an eastern camp in 1938, President Franklin Roosevelt didn’t like the look either. He ordered new spruce green uniforms to be given to all enrollees, although they didn’t make it into general circulation until the following year.2 Later in the program, green and yellow CCC insignia patches for coats and hats were also issued. Richard’s immediate problem at Blue camp was to get rid of the rough wool clothing, but it was October 1940 and cold temperatures were just around the corner. One thing he certainly wanted to hang on to was a dependable winter coat: I remember they issued us a Mackinaw coat that was similar to a peacoat that the Navy used. It was heavy and warm. It wasn’t a month before it got stolen. I went to the army commander and reported it. He said, “When we line the men up for inspection, you go down the row and pick out your coat.” Well, how am I going to pick out my coat from all of the others that the guys are wearing? So I said no. Instead I made the announcement in the barracks that I knew who took it and there would be no trouble if the coat was left on my bed when I came back...

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