During this time, with more exposure to caskets, funerals, and salutes from guns and artillery pieces [at Arlington National Cemetery], difficult memories began to explode unexpectedly in Phil’s mind.[1]

He also started to experience an increase in extremely disturbing nightmares. When his mother complained about his infrequent letters, he wrote:

Honest, I promise to try to do better from now on, but
when I get in one of these darn moods where I don’t feel like
writing, there just seems to be no way to get me out.

As Phil became more of a recluse, he lost his appetite for food and friendship. He contemplated seeing a psychiatrist, but with Ross’ encouragement, he met with one of the post chaplains. He found the visits surprisingly encouraging, similar to what he experienced during his chaplain visits at Lawson.

Ross also came by daily and recommended they begin attending the weekly Protestant service and get out together more often for social events around the post. Meeting new people lifted Phil’s spirits, and he found his mood improving.

He focused on pleasures that brought him the greatest joy, such as having lunch with Ross on most days and riding Tuckern, usually when his workday was over. He loved feeding and grooming him afterward.

Phil decided that he didn’t like the name Tuckern—too German- sounding to his ears. He played with a few names in his mind.

First, he thought of “Chugalug,” but then decided that he liked “Chugwater” the best.

Something about that name reminded him of the mighty Mississippi River, so Chugwater he became. As his love grew for this Thoroughbred.[2]

~~~~~

[1] Larimore, At First Light, 319.

[2] Ibid.

Learn more about my book about my father’s heroics and exploits at Amazon’s First Light page here. You can also read more of my WWII blogs here!

© Copyright WLL, INC. 2025.

December 24, 1945M