tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6593309288468455857.post5943638234630329823..comments2023-09-11T14:31:26.290-07:00Comments on FOREST ARMY: Life in Riley Creek Camp F-3-W (Wisconsin)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6593309288468455857.post-8913899008771058062018-01-11T09:56:47.333-08:002018-01-11T09:56:47.333-08:00Gee, what a pleasant surprise to find this site! M...Gee, what a pleasant surprise to find this site! My father, Hillard Shedleski, was in the Riley Creek CCC Camp. As I understand the story, he was having trouble getting a decent job after he graduated from Menasha High School in 1939, so he went to the CCC Camp. The Camp residents wore military-style khaki clothing and slept in open-bay barracks. He said it was a pretty good deal because you were clothed and well fed and were even paid a small salary. I think half of your salary was sent back to your parents.<br /><br />He did say that there were lots of activities to keep the boys busy at night. He mentioned taking a couple of classes but I no longer remember what he was taught. On weekends, they would often get (or hitch) a ride into Fifield or other nearby towns, most of which were very small with little to do.<br /><br />After several months in the Camp, he was called to the headquarters building and told that “they had found a job for me.” It was unclear who “they” were. In any case, he packed up his gear and went home to his new job at Kimberly Clark Lakeview Mill in Neenah.<br /><br />When I was in about the 8th Grade in 1968, he took me to where the Camp was. At that young age, I was puzzled how he could easily find his way around those unmarked roads deep in the woods. Even though he hadn’t been in the Camp in 30 years, he knew those roads like the back of his hand. He stopped a couple of times and said things like “See those trees over there? I planted them.” It has been a long time, but I seem to recall hundreds and hundreds of trees lined up in uniform rows.<br /><br />We finally stopped in a clearing in the woods and he showed me the old, partially-overgrown gravel pads that supported the various Camp buildings. Most of the buildings were no longer there, but I think the Camp Commandant’s house had been repurposed as a park ranger station or residence.<br /><br />I asked if he had regrets about seeing the Camp area in such a desolate state but he said that it didn’t bother him at all. He expressed little or no nostalgia for the place. But he cherished his time in the CCC itself.<br /><br />At the time, I had no idea what the CCC was or why I should care. Eighth-grade boys are just not concerned about such things. I’m surprised that I still remember my father’s CCC stories.<br /><br />However, in the basement of the house I grew up in, there was a framed “team photo” identical with the one on this website. There was also a small green pennant with the CCC logo and some hand-stitching spelling out Camp F-3, Riley Creek. I never understood if he did the stitching or if somebody else did.<br /><br />After my father passed away and my mother left the house, my older brother used to have the picture and the pennant hanging in his basement.<br /><br />Bill SheleskiInterested Observerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00692090301045973129noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6593309288468455857.post-22466604748466749232015-06-27T18:01:15.264-07:002015-06-27T18:01:15.264-07:00Gee, what a pleasant surprise to find this site! M...Gee, what a pleasant surprise to find this site! My father, Hillard Shedleski, was in the Riley Creek CCC Camp. As I understand the story, he was having trouble getting a decent job after he graduated from high school in 1939, so he went to the CCC Camp. The Camp residents wore military-style khaki clothing and slept in open-bay barracks. He said it was a pretty good deal because you were clothed and well fed and were even paid a small salary. I think half of your salary was sent back to your parents.<br /><br />He did say that there were lots of activities to keep the boys busy at night. He mentioned taking a couple of classes but I no longer remember what he was taught. On weekends, they would often get (or hitch) a ride into Fifield or other nearby towns, most of which were very small with little to do.<br /><br />After several months in the Camp, he was called to the headquarters building and told that “they had found a job for me.” It was unclear who “they” were. In any case, he packed up his gear and went home to his new job.<br /><br />When I was in about the 8th Grade in 1968, he took me to where the Camp was. At that young age, I was puzzled how he could easily find his way around those unmarked roads deep in the woods. Even though he hadn’t been in the Camp in 30 years, he knew those roads like the back of his hand. He stopped a couple of times and said things like “See those trees over there? I planted them.” It has been a long time, but I seem to recall hundreds and hundreds of trees lined up in uniform rows.<br /><br />We finally stopped in a clearing in the woods and he showed me the old, partially-overgrown gravel pads that supported the various Camp buildings. Most of the buildings were no longer there, but I think the Camp Commandant’s house had been repurposed as a park ranger station or residence.<br /><br />I asked if he had regrets about seeing the Camp area in such a desolate state but he said that it didn’t bother him at all. He expressed little or no nostalgia for the place.<br /><br />At the time, I had no idea what the CCC was or why I should care. Eighth-grade boys are just not concerned about such things. I’m surprised that I still remember my father’s CCC stories.<br /><br />However, in the basement of the house I grew up in, there was a framed “team photo” similar to or identical with the one on this website. There was also a small green pennant with the CCC logo and some hand-stitching spelling out Camp F-3, Riley Creek. I never understood if he did the stitching or if somebody else did.<br /><br />After my father passed away and my mother left the house, my older brother used to have the picture hanging in his basement.William Sheleskinoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6593309288468455857.post-83502322328501166902008-09-04T20:26:00.000-07:002008-09-04T20:26:00.000-07:00This brings back alot of memories. Everytime I go ...This brings back alot of memories. Everytime I go <A HREF="http://ourcampsite.com" REL="nofollow">Camping</A> I think back to the days where my grandpa was in a conservation camp. Great site!The Truthhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04790362232330006830noreply@blogger.com