Heifer Project shipments to Europe begin in earnest with a shipment to France in September 1945

The Heifer Project made two shipments of heifers to France in the wake of World War II. The first load of animals went to the region of Normandy in September 1945. The second, sent in April 1946, was destined for the Alsacian region of France.

Thirteen seagoing cowboys, one supervisor, and one veterinarian took care of the 150 Heifer Project animals and UNRRA’s 151 horses on the first trip. Cowboy Wayne Brant of York, Pennsylvania, donated one of those heifers. He had previously raised some calves for the Heifer Project’s second shipment to Puerto Rico.

Wayne Brant and two heifers he raised for the Heifer Project, 1944. Peggy Reiff Miller Collection.

When the call went out looking for men to give about six or seven weeks of their time to help care for shiploads of heifers to go to Europe, Brant jumped at the chance. “I announced to my family my intention of volunteering for one of the trips,” he says. “I think my wife, who was teaching school at the time, was a little shocked since we lived on a farm with milking cows and a teen-aged hired boy, who was to take care of the farm chores. She soon gave her consent.”

Wayne Brant’s Merchant Marine ID card, 1945. Peggy Reiff Miller Collection.

On board ship, one of Brant’s jobs was to accompany the veterinarian on his daily rounds of checking the animals. “Several of the horses became ill,” he says, “because of exhaustion from slipping on wet decks, which at first were hosed down daily. Plans were soon changed and the hosing was discontinued.”

The ship docked in Le Havre, France, for unloading of the animals, then continued up the Seine River to Rouen for the unloading of tractors and grain. Arrangements for distribution of the Heifer Project animals were made by Brethren Service worker Eldon Burke. Many of the cowboys got to visit Burke’s home in Paris.

The dock at Le Havre was still in disarray for the second heifer shipment in April 1946. Photo credit: Wilbur Stump.

“We were fortunate to be able to do some sightseeing,” Brant says. “I have vivid impressions of blocks of destroyed buildings in Le Havre. We were warned to stay within marked boundaries because of the many minefields. Not much damage was done to Paris because it was declared an ‘open city’.”

War destruction was evident in Le Havre, France, April 1946. Photo credit: Wilbur Stump.

Sightseeing in Paris on the second trip to France, April 1946. Photo credit: Wilbur Stump.

Unlike most cowboy crews, Brant’s crew was able to visit some places their heifers had been taken. “Five of the heifers went to a Children’s Home, which some of us had the privilege of visiting,” he says. “I remember the little shoes without soles when one of the house parents asked the children to lift one of their feet.”

Ohio cowboy Andrew Petry recognized his own cow among the five at the Canteleu children’s hospital. A Gospel Messenger report says, “On our visit to the dormitory, children were writing letters to their families. They were clean, but badly shod. The children live out in the open; classes are held outside. These 220 children (some of whom lost their parents during the bombings) all have a tendency toward tuberculosis.” The Heifer Project cows’ milk would go a long way toward treating that.

The Zona Gale returned to Le Havre after a week in Rouen. The supervisor’s report says, “The trip up and down the River was spoiled for the most of us because we were required to be down below deck cleaning up the cattle and horse stalls. It is to be regretted that there was not a better understanding between the ship’s officers and our own men as to where our duties ended and the regular ship’s crew’s began.”

What the cowboys unknowingly did, however, was get the ship ready for the loading of 90 soldiers in Le Havre to return them home from the war. Brant recalls, “They were not happy. The military flew them over but sent them back on slow Liberty ships.”

Brant notes, “The trip back seemed to take much longer because there was little to do. But we enjoyed getting to know one another better and we developed lasting friendships during the forty-five days we spent together.”

Next post: Reflections of a 1945 seagoing cowboy to France

The Convergence of UNRRA, the Seagoing Cowboys, and the Heifer Project

By June 1945, the Heifer Project had, on their own, made two shipments of heifers across the seas to Puerto Rico, an overland shipment to Mexico, and two to Arkansas. A program of the Brethren Service Committee (BSC) of the Church of the Brethren, with other denominations participating, the Heifer Project was intent on sending cows to provide relief to the victims of World War II.

During the war, 44 of the “united nations” created UNRRA, the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration, to assist countries devastated by the war. As plans for UNRRA took shape, BSC’s Executive, M. R. Zigler, lobbied UNRRA to include Heifer Project animals in their shipments. The sending of six bulls to Greece in May 1945 served as a test.

When UNRRA began shipping livestock in earnest the end of June 1945, the seagoing cowboy program was born through an agreement between UNRRA and the BSC: the BSC would serve as the recruiting agency for the cattle tenders for all of UNRRA’s intended shipments. In return, UNRRA would ship Heifer Project animals free of charge and under the terms of the Heifer Project, meaning the animals would be a gift to the neediest of preselected farmers. UNRRA recipients had to pay a bit, depending on UNRRA’s agreement with the receiving country.

The Seagoing Cowboy Office at the Brethren Service Center, New Windsor, MD. Circa 1946. Photo courtesy of Brethren Historical Library and Archives.

Over the course of UNRRA’s two-year active life span, 4,000 of the approximately 300,000 animals shipped were from the Heifer Project. It’s the seagoing cowboy stories from these UNRRA/Heifer Project shipments I’ll be focusing on during this 75th Anniversary year of Heifer International.

Heifer Project cattle bound for Ethiopia waiting to be loaded onto the S. S. Rock Springs Victory (out of sight on left), March 1947. Photo credit: Howard Lord.

In getting the seagoing cowboy program off the ground after UNRRA’s first two livestock shipments [read about them here and here], the BSC made these recommendations to the Heifer Project Committee in their June 25, 1945, meeting:
1. A foreman should be appointed who would be the spokesman for the entire group. [This was carried out. And a cowboy supervisor was hired by UNRRA for each crew, as well.]
2. Plans should be made for religious worship on the boat. [When UNRRA’s shipments mushroomed, this happened only when there were cowboys in the crew who initiated it.]

Cowboys on the S. S. Norwalk Victory take time for Sunday morning worship en route to Trieste, Italy. February 1946. Photo credit: Elmer J. Bowers.

3. An Educational Director should be appointed. This would include some education on relief needs, livestock needs, language of country which men are going to, church participation in the program, etc. [This fell by the wayside. Tending the animals left little time for anything else.]
4. Recreational program should be planned as on the return trip the men will apparently have no work which will occupy their time. [Some of the crews did take recreational equipment with them, but many had to devise their own pass-times. And the cowboys were often co-opted by the Captain to clean out stalls or do other work on the return trip.]

The Attleboro Victory crew enjoys a game of volleyball on the way home from Greece. December 1946. Photo credit: John Lohrentz.

The June 25 Heifer Project Committee minutes also state, “There was considerable discussion on the selection of these men that are to accompany these shipments. It is felt that we should make this a real testimony, as this is the kind of religion that talks.” These high ideals for this seagoing cowboy program at times bore fruit. But UNRRA’s shipping program and the need for cattle tenders increased so rapidly that just getting the required number of men on the ships was all BSC could manage at times. Ideal cowboys or not, however, these shipments of livestock on their own spoke volumes to grateful destitute recipients.

Men at odds on a mission of goodwill

Dedication of Heifer Project cattle to be sent to Puerto Rico. York (PA) fairgrounds, April 29, 1945. Photo credit: Heifer International archives.

Seventy-four years ago this weekend, some 700 people gathered at the fairgrounds in York, Pennsylvania. The occasion? Dedication of 45 heifers and 5 bulls to be sent to Puerto Rico. The Church of the Brethren Gospel Messenger (May 26, 1945) reported:

At one end of the fair grounds, we are told, implements were being readied for war and for the conquest by force while at the other end these cattle were being dedicated to goodwill and to conquest by love and understanding.

Unfortunately, the two cattle tenders who accompanied these animals did not exemplify the latter. This created a royal headache for Rufus King, Director of the Civilian Public Service Unit #43 in Puerto Rico, the Brumbaugh Reconstruction Unit. King had the job of receiving the cattle and entertaining the cattle tenders while they were on the island.

For the purpose of this post, I’ll call the men Cowboy A and Cowboy B. This unfortunate pairing became a learning experience for the fledgling Heifer Project Committee. When Cowboy B made his report to the committee after the trip, his recommendation number 6 read: “The shipment should be in charge of some one person.” And therein, I believe, lies the crux of the problem.

In a letter to family, King characterized Cowboy A as “a retired farmer who at 66 still works hard and gets irked when any one around him can’t work as hard.” Cowboy B, whom King characterized as “a very successful farmer and good man, but of the managerial type,” got sick on board and could not do his share of the work. Cowboy A, having been put in charge of the cattle at York, may have assumed he would also be in charge on the ship.

The cattle had been trucked overnight to Brooklyn, New York, on May 16. The next morning, they were loaded into sheds on the top deck of the S. S. James Wetmore. The ship departed at 6:30 a.m., May 19, giving Cowboy A and Cowboy B a full week together before arriving in San Juan May 25.

“The upshot of it all,” King says, “was that these Brethren on a mission of goodwill were mighty tired of each other and parted company soon after their arrival!  Individually, I enjoy the company of each and we have entertained each of them separately here at the house for meals.”

To Heifer Project leaders, King wrote, “It is indeed very disgusting to have a shipment of ‘good will’ sent by the Brethren and those Brethren sent to care for the cattle can not get along between themselves and therefore do not represent the basic idea back of the gift. How can we build a new world when we as individuals refuse to lie down in the same pasture?”

The cattle, on the other hand, DID exemplify the goodwill the Heifer Project Committee intended. More on that in my next post.

Conditions in Puerto Rico, 1944 or 1945. Photo by Rufus King, courtesy of the King family.

Dr. Martin M. Kaplan: Heifer International’s second seagoing cowboy delivers bulls to Greece, Part II

Today, we resume the adventures of seagoing cowboy and veterinarian Dr. Martin M. Kaplan as he oversees the transport of six pedigreed Brown Swiss bulls to Greece aboard the Swedish M/S Boolongena, meaning “kangaroo” in Australian dialect.

“Molly’s John of Lee Hill,” renamed Parnassus by the Greeks, being led to the consecration service in Greece for the six bulls donated by the Heifer Project, August 1945. UNRRA Photograph.

The ship departed St. John, New Brunswick, Canada, on schedule May 14, 1945. The next morning, Kaplan was introduced to the “experienced assistant who could understand English” which he had been assured he would have. “He was a good soul, about 55 years old,” Kaplan says, “whose extensive livestock experience was gained on a farm for a short time when he was a child.” Kaplan soon came to realize that “hi” was the extent of the man’s English. “We misunderstood each other beautifully with the immediate consequence that he fed the bulls twice as much concentrated feed as I had indicated. The lately arrived package of drugs [for the bulls] proved its value.”

After ideal weather the first few days, Kaplan says, “we entered a period of pitching and rolling during which ‘the kangaroo’ lived up to her name, until we reached Gibraltar.” Orders for a change in the ship’s Greek destination from Piraeus to Patras necessitated a six-day stay in Gibralter. The new route ran through an area where the magnetic mines laid by the Nazis had not yet been cleared, so the ship had to be demagnitized.

While in Gibralter, a “near-catastrophe” occurred, Kaplan says. “Duke, the oldest and strongest bull sporting two nose rings, indicating previous trouble, became restless. Duke broke the chain which partially confined him.” Then Duke made a “mighty heave backwards.” He tore the rings out of his nose spraying Kaplan with blood as he was trying to fix the chain. They now had “a pain maddened bull loose in what was too obviously an inadequate enclosure for an animal in his state.” Kaplan slowly retreated and advised those watching to “get out on deck and up on the hatch if the bull made a break.”

“There was little we could do until he had quieted down,” Kaplan says. So they went to dinner. Kaplan went to bed that night and dreamed of being chased by the bull.

Kaplan reconstrained the bull, then, by giving him “a Mickey Finn in his drinking water,” 40 times the strength needed to incapacitate a sailor, “which made him merely buckle slightly at the knees,” Kaplan says. But it gave Kaplan the time he needed to insert new nose rings and replace the collar with a much sturdier rope, “strong enough to lash a ship to a dock,” he says.

After a tense passage through the mined area, the ship docked in Patras, only to discover the message of the change in port had not reached the people who were to prepare the dock for unloading. A flying stall was constructed on the spot, and the bulls were offloaded and trucked to Athens and the experimental farm waiting for them. “Athens swelled visibly with pride as we entered with the bulls,” Kaplan says. “My contribution to the swelling was a not inconsiderable sigh of relief. May their seed flouish.”

Consecration of the six bulls begins with centuries old prayers at the Superior School of Agriculture in Athens, the first of many breeding centers to be established, August 26, 1945. UNRRA photograph.

And flourish their seed did. Heifer Project sent another six bulls to Greece in February 1948, and UNRRA sent a few more. “Since the program started … over 16,000 calves have been born and more are coming every day,” states John Halpin, Artificial Insemination Program Director in Greece, in an August 1949 article in The Brown Swiss Bulletin. “These calves sired by outstanding selected sires will have a tremendous influence on the future dairy industry of Greece.”

Mr. F. I. Elliott of the Near East Foundation examines through the microscope the sperm taken from the first bull, after which farmers gather around to have their first glimpse of microscopic life. UNRRA photograph.

The Joannis Golemis family receives the first calf, a bull, born through the artificial insemination program in Greece from the sperm of “Orangeville Bell Boy”, renamed Imittos. UNRRA photograph.

Next post: Heifer Project’s second shipment to Puerto Rico and two seagoing cowboys at odds.

Dr. Martin M. Kaplan: Heifer International’s second seagoing cowboy delivers bulls to Greece, Part I

It was an eventful crossing of the Atlantic for seagoing cowboy and veterinarian Dr. Martin M. Kaplan. His “unusual mission” started the day World War II ended in Europe in May 1945.

With his veterinary degree and master’s degree in public health, the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA) hired Dr. Kaplan to accompany six pedigreed bulls to Greece. The bulls were a gift of the Heifer Project to service an insemination program of the Near East Foundation. Greece had lost 40% of its cattle during the war. The insemination program would help the Greek dairy industry recover.

After a long train ride from UNRRA headquarters in Washington, D.C., Kaplan arrived in St. John, New Brunswick, Canada, the morning of Thursday, May 10, to meet his ship. However, when UNRRA contracted the Swedish vessel M/S Boolongena, the war was still on. “The neutral Swedes did not want to break rules by having a paying passenger on one of their freighters going into a war zone,” Kaplan says. So with his master’s in public health, UNRRA was able to sign Kaplan on as the ship’s doctor.

M/S Boolongena, 1952. Source: City of Vancouver Archives. Photographer: Walter Edwin Frost.

Kaplan soon met “the six crosses I would bear” and the man who had purchased them for the Brethren Service Committee, Benjamin Bushong. Bushong was to have tended the bulls until sailing, but an urgent development with the 50 heifers being gathered for Heifer Project’s next shipment to Puerto Rico pulled him away.

In Kaplan’s entertaining report to UNRRA, he says, “[The bulls] were in an isolated railroad car, 1½ miles away from the ship. All the feed and water were gone, ½ bale of hay remained, 2 bulls were completely unbroken, and darkness was approaching….After throwing this lapful at me, Bushong bid me a cheery good-bye, and assured me that I would have little trouble.”

Kaplan had the railroad car moved closer to the ship and procured feed and hay after which he endured “rain and snow for three days, a growing compost pile that assumed formidable proportions by the fourth day in the middle of the car, [and] six suspicious bulls.”

The Heifer Project’s six Brown Swiss pedigreed bulls after arrival in Greece, May 1945. Photo credit: UNRRA Photograph.

In the meantime, stalls were built under the forecastle deck, the location at the front of the ship that normally housed sailors’ living quarters. This meant having to get the bulls through a 2½-feet-wide doorway, “but it was the best location available,” Kaplan says.

Departure was set for Monday, May 14. At 6:00 a.m., two hours before loading time, Kaplan says, “I fed the animals heavily to dull the edge of their tempers for the forthcoming excitement (my drugs hadn’t as yet arrived). There was little difficulty in moving the animals individually from the railroad car directly into a horse-box, thence by means of a crane onto the deck. The delicate procedure was to lead them through a narrow doorway, up a 20 feet long wooden ramp, over obstacles reminiscent of a steeple chase, into their individual stalls.” This task fell to Kaplan when the longshoremen, normally the only ones allowed to touch the cargo during loading, “formally invited” Kaplan “to lead the bulls to their stalls. . . . I led four of them and was chased by two,” Kaplan says, “but they all ended up in their respective places with a net result of one slightly squashed finger.”

[to be continued in April 12 post]

Wayne Hostetler: Heifer International’s First Seagoing Cowboy Delivers Heifers to Puerto Rico

In this 75th anniversary year of Heifer International, I will be highlighting the seagoing cowboys who delivered Heifer’s early shipments. Find the story of Wayne Hostetler, Heifer’s first seagoing cowboy in 1944, here and here.

Wayne went on to serve the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration as a seagoing cowboy supervisor on the S. S. Bucknell Victory in February 1946, delivering 788 horses to Poland.

Next post: Heifer International’s second seagoing cowboy delivers bulls to Greece

Out of the Fog — a Seagoing Cowboy Tale for Our Time

Ever feel like your life is in a heavy fog? Personally? Collectively? Can’t see where you’re headed individually? Where we’re headed as a country? As a world? As I reread this recollection of seagoing cowboy Les Messamer, it came across to me as an allegory for our times.

Messamer served on the S. S. Lindenwood Victory delivering heifers to China for UNRRA and the Heifer Project. In early 1947, after the heifers were unloaded in Shanghai, UNRRA sent the ship on down to New Zealand to pick up a load of sheep for China. Messamer remembers that part of the voyage well:

“It is doubtful if there is a more melancholy sound in the world than that of the fog horn of a ship sounding at regular intervals day and night. If memory is accurate, the fog horn was heard every eight minutes. It was a low, non-melodious toot that lasted for several seconds. For more than three days that sound was part of the S. S. Lindenwood Victory ship as it was approaching New Zealand. . . .

“Heavy fog on the ocean provides no sights to be seen. The gray stuff envelopes everything and everyone and becomes increasingly oppressive. The sound of the fog horn is necessary (or was at that time) to warn other ships of one’s location. That did not keep it from adding to the dismal situation. The fog horn is necessarily loud and interrupted naps and sleep time. It interrupted thoughts. It was always there – predictably and regularly – always.

“Other factors helped to make the time less than desirable. The cattle and feed had been unloaded in Shanghai and the work of cleaning the stalls to be ready for the next load was complete. There was nothing to do. The changes in the time of day were barely noticeable as there was no visible sunshine but instead there was the continuous gray – and the fog horn. Counting the number of times the fog horn sounded was one way to determine how many minutes had elapsed. Chess and checkers helped to while away the time. A trapeze built in one of the holds provided some exercise option, but that did not take up too many minutes out of a day. Everyone actually did a good job of handling the situation, but it was still obviously a depressive time for all.

“A difference in the feel of the waves signaled that we were approaching land, as the return of the waves, called land swells, rolled under the vessel. The captain sent word that we were approaching New Zealand, and many of us (seagoing cowboys and ‘regular’ sailors) lined the rail hoping for a glimpse of land. There was little conversation. There was nothing to see except fog. There were no flying fish, no whales, no dolphins, no turtles, no clouds, no sun, not even waves were visible. Not a thing was happening, except the normal rolling of the ship. The fog – and the fog horn – always the fog horn – continued.

“Then it happened! A portion of the sky cleared and in the clearing was the upper thousand feet of the snow capped mountain named after the explorer who is credited with first visiting the islands. It was bathed in sunshine and was instantly recognized as a sign from the Creator that all was well. No one spoke as each individual felt the reverence of the moment. The sight of Mt. Cook in the sunshine above the fog was instantly etched into the minds of those of us fortunate enough to be there.”

May the fog in your/our life/lives dissipate as we enter 2019.

Photo from publicdomainpictures.net.

Blessings to all of my readers for a bright and shiny New Year.

Peggy