Sioux City Woman Answers Call to Serve Her Country

Claire O'Brien says she's nothing out of the ordinary, just a tiny, gray-haired 85-year-old who served her country, as did millions of The Greatest Generation.

Claire followed her mother into military service. "My mother was very proud of her service," says Claire, a Sioux City resident. "She was a Yeomanette with the U.S. Navy. Her job was to meet troop trains in Sioux City in World War I with baskets of fruits."

Claire’s sister, Dawn O'Brien, was a 1st Lt. in the U.S. Army Nurse Corps. Claire followed her older sister into duty, enlisting with the U.S. Naval Reserve in the W.A.V.E. corps. W.A.V.E. represents Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service.

"My best friend, Marilyn Murphy, and I enlisted together," Claire remembers. "I had finished two years at Briar Cliff and was working for the state finance company downtown. I sat at my typewriter and looked across the street at Sixth and Pierce into the Navy recruiting station. I saw a steady stream of recruits go in and out as I sat at my typewriter, typing forms and doing mundane work." She wanted to be part of it. She and Marilyn turned 21 and enlisted in July 1943. Both were sent to boot camp at Hunter College in New York where they learned to march in formation and earned $11 per month.

Claire was sent to Oak Knoll Naval Hospital in Oakland, California. She spent six weeks there and was assigned to the 12th Naval District Headquarters in downtown San Francisco. She and hundreds of other W.A.V.E.s processed medical records for tens of thousands of soldiers and their families passing through San Francisco during the war.

"Health records were vital to our war effort," she says. "We charted dates, treatments, injuries and more. It was quite involved. You had to be on your toes."

Claire and five other W.A.V.E.s lived in a hotel room in San Francisco, sharing one bathroom. It was nothing compared to the hardships soldiers dealt with on the battlefield.

An especially memorable moment came when Claire escorted a busload of Marines from a hospital ship to Oak Knoll Hospital. All the men suffered from "shellshock."

"They all wore dress uniforms and looked very sharp. But the bus was extremely quiet. I sat down next to one Marine and after several minutes he simply turned to me and said, 'When do we get leave?' He almost had this haunted look on his face. These men had had it with the war."