 I mean, training began with research and in two years we reached this point, like Mike Karzairoff and I, going down to last May and testifying before the House and Judiciary Committee. Then the President signed the bill and the law, July 31st, and then Los Angeles, and following some of the strategy they've developed, because their move is 38, 39 years old, while the Alludes is only a little over two years old. Okay. This is a warm-up. We're just getting my clothes at this point, okay. But that's what I wanted to talk about. Okay. If it's all right with you. Yeah. Oh, that's, yeah, I'm fine. Father, would you like to say anything along those lines from the point of view as a commissioner, which, and if you see yourself as separate and a role of commissioner as one in the same, having gone through it, and that's why you're there, or that? Well, I was chosen by APIA, I think, to pick up my name, well, at first Phil came and asked me if I wanted to be, you know, in on it, and I said, okay, then it turned in my name to Senator Stevens, and he gave it to people in Washington, D.C., and they said, okay, so I was called, and in February 20th, I went back to West ID, but we're on there. At first, he started off as a seven-member commissioner, he decided to have mine. At the time of the war, you were residing in Alaska, St. Paul. Phil? Yes. I was living in Alaska, and I had just completed eight years of grade school, and was looking forward to doing two jobs, children, Jackson, high school. Curt Trude? I was also here in Alaska. Alfred? I was living in Alaska. Okay. One other thing, I'm going to ask you. What year are you from? Phil? August 12th, 1927. Curt Trude? January 1st, 1930. Your speed. Boy, I would guess. Who was it? Okay. What we're doing right now is just getting a reaction shot that the sound isn't being used just for later on, for editing purposes, and then after it's all over, we'll do some more of these things. Okay. Why don't we start then? Phil, I'll give you a, just let you rave here for a bit. Okay. And then we'll go to the father. Okay. Curt Trude, and then Alfred. Or would you like to fill you open with your piece, go to the father for his introduction piece, let's come back to you, and then talk about the experience, and the father for experience. Curt Trude, Alfred. Okay, can we do it that way? Yeah. Because you're talking separate now, it's a separate piece, isn't it? Unless you want to, yeah, it has to be separate, because the way I see this going in would be over footage of the locations down southeast, the main body of what we're going to hear tonight, and it would probably be inappropriate to drop in. There you go. Okay, my name is Phil Trude, born and raised in Alaska, and I live in Alaska. Father? My name is Father Ishmael Gromov, I was born in St. Paul Island, Pribilofs, came down to Alaska as a priest in 1966, and I live here. Father, where were you born? Pribilofs, St. Paul. Okay. Curt Trude? My name is Curt Trude Savarni, and I was born and raised in Alaska, and moved out for a while, and my husband and I just moved back last fall. Is your husband also? He's from Wisconsin. Wisconsin, okay. Alfred. I'm Alfred Stifton, born in Alaska, but now I'm residing in Anchorage. How are you doing, Greg? Okay, we're going to start with Phil. Peace from Phil. Then we're going to go to the father, and then back to Phil, and the father again, and then Curt Trude, Al, and then after that it's going to be an open, freeway discussion. What do you expect us to say this first time? Well, Phil's going to give a piece about how this whole project started. I understand that. I'll throw you a question. I'll throw you a question. Okay. Phil. Yes. As an ultimate board member to the Lucian Pribilofs Islands Association, I was informed by the executive director at that time that he was going to go to Washington, D.C., on some other business, but would also check in to see if there were any chances for reparation. One thing that has to be made clear is that during the time this experience was taking place, and afterwards the athletes felt that a great wrong had been done, but there were no resources available. During the time, we couldn't get any answers from the authorities. None of our questions were answered. So we lived with this experience, knowing that a great wrong had been done. So when Patrick Putnikov told me that the attorneys in Washington, D.C., thought we had a chance for a good case, he asked me to talk with as many athletes as I could about World War II experience and a chance for reparation, which I did. And the first reaction was surprise on the part of the athletes when they knew that there was a chance that this wrong could be undone. And then after the executive director, acting executive director, Mike Zaharoff and I testified in Washington, D.C., before the House Judiciary Committee. And President Carter signed the Bill into law in July 31st. I, as the chairman of APIA's board of directors, formed a task force partly from the board of directors of APIA and the Alley Corporation. And then we embraced other Alley's that I knew were concerned. And we called them at large members of the task force. And then we selected Alfred Steppinon because of his capabilities. As a project manager. And so we had the large job of gathering evidence and putting it in suitable form for presentation at the hearings that the commission will be holding of which father is a member. And they have chosen to deal with the alloy portion of reparation in Seattle, Anchorage, St. Paul, and on Alaska. The dates for those meetings will be made known later. Father, would you like to say anything as an introductory remark? It's not necessary. Well, I wasn't involved in this at first. But one day Phil came to me and asked me if I wanted to serve on the committee of the reparation. And I said, okay. Then he turned my name into APIA. And from there they sent it into Senator Stephen's office. And they put in my name. And I was selected. And after I was selected I was informed from APIA that I was supposed to travel to Washington, D.C. And I went there and stayed there about five days. And we had our first meeting with the commission. There was nine member commission, including me. And at that time we chose Joan Bernstein as a chairperson. She's our chairperson. And we're not really starting to start to work yet because they're in the process of making a new staff before we can continue. And I just learned from the chairman that we'll let us know within maybe next week what's going to happen and where the hearings will be held again. Maybe the first hearings might be held in West Coast. Just stop the tape for a second. Alfred, 1942. It was, the trouble was bombed on June 3. It was several weeks before we even had a hint that we're to be evacuated. But soon the day came, they said, you're leaving tomorrow. And you're to take one suitcase of clothes. So everybody was preparing. Then we were gathered on a truck and taken down to the dock and placed on a ship. And we left on Alaska. Our first stop was Kodiak to bury a little baby that was, had been born on Alaska but died on the ship. And we stopped at Kodiak for the burial. And we made several other stops in southeastern before we reached our destination, which we never knew until we reached that it was going to be wrangled. But it wasn't wrangled proper. It was a small fishing camp, Canary, about 80 miles west of wrangled. When we arrived in the camp, yeah, we were all placed in one big two-story bunkhouse and were given mattresses and blankets to sleep on. And they crowded about 180 of us in this one building or several days before they had prepared the other houses in the camp to fit to live in, which was not actually fit to live in. I ended up living in a, I would say a 15 by 20 house with my aunt who had four children, myself and my two sisters and an elderly woman from Alaska. There was no plumbing and the only heat we had was a wood stove and our toilet was outside and was a common toilet used by the whole camp. There was always one thing on my mind during all this time, why us alludes had to be evacuated when the Caucasians could remain in the village. This has been on my mind since I was 14 years old and this question I feel should be answered by somebody. And after I reached Wrangel, I was of elementary school age, I mean, yeah, elementary, no, junior high school age, so I was transferred to Wrangel Institute where I remained during the winters, went to the camp in the summers until they returned back to Alaska. What was the, when they moved you back to Alaska? What did you find of home? I didn't immediately return with the evacuees, I returned a couple of years later. But when I returned, I found my mother's home, ramshackled, nothing fit to use in the house. What was there was either taken out or was rotted from broken windows. And before the war we alludes subsisted on fish and to get this fish we had to have dories and ores and nets and when we evacuated all of these items had to be left here. We couldn't take them with us and when we returned the dories had either been stolen or rotted on the banks of the creek and we never got any monies from the government in return for our losses. Gertrude, let's move to you. Could you just pick it up at 1942 and what you remember from that incident? I was twelve years old and I guess we all remember different things. And I remember leaving. And of course for us kids it was a great big party, you know, but couldn't help noticing the sadness of the old people. I kind of wondered why my mom was crying. I remember the trip down and getting to Rangel Institute really a different experience from this peaceful little village that we lived in, you know. And we got there and they lined us up in the gym and they gave us a lice check. And it was humiliating, it was. Then again us kids were having fun but I could see tears in my mother's eyes, you know. Then they made us go through showers. First we were all bathing on the ship and everything, you know. They forced us to go through showers. And by the time we got to showers it was cold. It was okay for Billy and I, we were older. But my mama had to put little kids through too, the showers. And our conditions there were crowded and the food was bad. And from then on moving to Burnett Inlet. We have different memories. The first night I was there, I stayed in this one little house and they were round shackled, they were really not fit to live in there. You know abandoned canery houses is what they were and I don't know how long they'd been abandoned. But the first night I remember I counted them. There were twenty of us on the floor and we didn't have any sleeping bags or anything like that. And after that we moved down to the bunk house. And there wasn't too much food, it was mostly starch. Starchy foods like macaroni or, you know, rice and this and that. And we got, there's no medical help. We had a outbreak of boils. Everyone got boils. I don't know whether it was from the diet that we were on or whatever. Like a person would have sixty boils on their body. I think I only had eleven or something like that. But it was bad enough and they were so painful. But, you know, had a hard time solving the problem. I really don't know whether they ever solved it. Maybe after they started catching fish and getting some fresh food and stuff that they started going away. And let's see what else do I remember. It was, you know, it was quite different. It was a real primitive living. Quite different than what we were used to. Bout houses and packing the water and chopping the wood. Always the worry about where the food was going to, where the next meal was going to come from. And no work for the men. And no work for anyone to do or to make any money, you know. And then we were sent off to Wrangel Institute, which was a school that had the capacity of 300 students. And they took, you know, like from the St. Paul people and, you know, from all the islands. And that winter there were over 700 kids in that school. It was cold and we were hungry. There wasn't enough food. I really remember it because I was homesick and hungry and cold. We had an outbreak of measles and we all got sick. And being in such close quarters we all got lice. But one thing I do remember is, and I think that some of our old people died because they were so sad about being away from home. It really, you know, it was really hard on the old people. It really was. What do you remember about the travels back to home? And when you arrived there. Do you remember that? Well, yeah, I remember. Well, I can always remember always wishing on the star that I would be able to go back home, the first star, you know. It was always in our minds. It was such a different thing down there for us. Finally, the day came that we did get on the ship and oh, the ship was crowded, getting back home. Lots of the people were taken up into the valley until their homes were made suitable for them to stand because they were just, I suppose, the GIs and everybody had gone through them and wrecked them and whatnot. And they just weren't suitable for people to stand. And it took quite a while before they were able to get back in to the house. What about my skiff, my dory? Some guys had power dories, but mostly had orders. None of the questions were answered. We always referred to somebody of a higher rank. And then we received the answer that what is happening to you is for your own protection. And that was as concrete an answer that we were able to get. Then we were put aboard a ship and we joined a convoy. And reaching southeastern Alaska for me was a new experience. I didn't like it because of the trees. I wasn't used to trees. I didn't like the trees because you couldn't see anywhere. And then I didn't like it because I had to attend the BIA boarding school. I knew it wasn't a good school. And I got as hungry as Gertrude did there. I couldn't study what I wanted to. I tried to go to the city of Wrangles High School. I enrolled there. And the principal of Wrangles to came and told me that as long as you're awarded a government, you have to attend a government school. And so I had to leave my sister in the town of Wrangles and go back to Wrangles Institute. And I didn't think that was enough reason. And then returning to Alaska, we were brought in from not this entrance, we were brought to a dock in Captain's Bay, the army dock, a large dock there. Then we were put on six-buys, army trucks. And there was a long string of them bringing everybody in off the ship. And I can still remember the people cheering and crying when we came over the hill and they saw the church in the town for the first time after two-and-a-half years. And then it was a big disappointment to find that we couldn't go to our homes. We were placed in a holding area. Like Gertrude said, some of those were across the creek others were up in the valley and those were Quonset huts and cabanas. We were not allowed to go to our homes until they saw fit. And I remember my family coming to our home that we couldn't even get in a house that had been broken into and had been vandalized. Our icons were gone, our pictures off the walls, furnishings, my toy bider, my seal skin, I mean my seal, intestine, raincoat, and my hair seal boots, they were gone. Everybody lost things that were priceless because they were heirlooms. And my family had to rent a home when we were finally released from the holding area. We had to rent a home until we were able to build one out of two cabanas. The Buirvin Affairs managed to do what they called a, they didn't use the word reparation, replacing what they called it. And to the people who lost their homes, they took a big D8 and did their homes and piled them up and put them in a dump truck and hauled them off. Then they hauled two of these 16 by 20 cabanas and put them where our house was. They did that to all the places that weren't livable and there were quite a few of those. And the Buirvin Affairs also put in a building material, paint, roofing paper, a plumbing, a wash tub, and a bathtub, toilet bowl, sink, furniture for the living room, bedroom, kitchen. But none of these things would have been chosen by the people if they had their choice. So even though they were dissatisfied, if they wanted a place to live, they had to create a home out of what they were given in return for losing their other home. And I'd like to go back to just before the air raids when they were giving us practice drills for air raid alerts. They had a clocks that would go off. At first they'd let us go on to trucks and when the air raid siren went off, we'd haul one of the trucks and they'd take us up into the mountains. And then when it all clear sounded, they brought us back until they built two bomb shelters next to the bridge on the Creek Bank. And then all the people on one side of the road went to one bomb shelter and all the people on the other side of the road went to the other bomb shelter. And by the time the Japanese came over, we were, you know, we weren't used to it but we knew what we had to do and did it as rapidly as possible. The alerts would come any time of the day or night. We also had to conform to blackouts, not only in our homes but in the church because we have our services at night and the men had to build blackout curtains for the church. And the military police always patrolled to see that nobody broke the blackout things and there was a curfew. They were actually under martial law after Pearl Harbor. They were under martial law just in Alaska. We had to conform to a curfew and we were not able to go very picking, fishing, or hunting unless the military allowed us to. And we always had an account for every, for the time it would have gone. But coming home was a big disappointment to a lot of people because of the shape of their homes. But I know that everybody felt like good truth did. After seeing Southeastern Alaska, even before they got there everybody was wondering when they could possibly go home. All they wanted to do was go home. They didn't want to stay where they were going or stay where they were taken. And always in the back of their minds was to go home. And that was something that we had to live with from that time on. And the reparation, you have to consider not only the physical loss of property like the heirloom of the breakup of the lifestyle and the interrupted life of every individual. I submit that the Aleut culture was halted for two and a half years. And when you do that to a people, the tremendous loss occurred. And we're not even talking about the psychological damage, which is an important part of what the Army's had to endure. I've got a question here. Did I like to make a statement? Describe a cabana. What is a cabana? The Army built cabanas for housing on their troops. It's a 16 by 20 wood frame building with no plumbing and some wiring that had to be changed and no insulation. And we could no longer get wood to burn for heating and cooking. So everybody turned to guava for heating and cooking. Father? Yes, you want to start from 1942? Yes, those, yes. But prior to that, I went to a seminary in 1939 and came home. 1941, I remember I came in the old pen when fish and wildlife would stop here. I stayed here overnight, went to the Pribilofs. And a week later, they attacked Pearl Harbor where we were in war then after I got home. And a year after that, we found out through the radio that the charcoal was bound. And after that happened, they told us to black out our homes at night. And I know I was 17 years old at that time. I know the elderly people were scared. They thought the Pribilofs would be here too. So one day in 1942, I don't remember the day. I remember we were playing baseball and we saw a couple boats in the horizon coming from St. George and the ball game stopped and we were just watching. They were Japanese boats were coming to attack us. It was really scary and then we found out it was a liberty ship with a Coast Guard escort coming in to take us out. And like these Alaska people said, we were given 24 hours to, you know, to prepare to leave. But we were fortunate that they had these seal barrels that they used for seal skins. Each family filled the belongings into it and prepared to leave. Prior to that, when the boat came in, they told us only the people that were working from outside, you know, over 48 Caucasians, they were the only ones that were taken off the islands. And I remember my dad really got upset, went to the office and raised heck. And after that, they found out that everybody was taken off the islands. I remember my dad worked in the canteen and I remember as a boy another kid said, yeah, you can go in there and take all the candy you want, boy. I was happy because we were leaving. And to me, I was a young boy. I thought, oh, it was a lot of fun, you know, riding on the boat and see different people. But the elderly people, I know they were sad and, you know, worried. So they finally took us aboard the following day. And, yeah, they picked the people from St. George first and they came to St. Paul and picked us up. And we took off and they were heading for, on last year, but they detected a submarine somewhere. So we had to go through Bristol Bay area, zigzag, and come through here. When we stopped here, we picked up the people that were here from Attica. I remember the boat's name was Dalarov. And we lived in tight quarters, you know, the beds were so high, that's all we were really. Stayed in like sardines. I remember every time they had a drill, we had to put on our life jackets and go out on the deck and be counted. And we couldn't waste any water. We had to save it on the ship and it couldn't take bath or showers or anything. So I remember after we left here, I don't know where our first stop was. I can't really remember, but I remember getting into Thunder Bay. Prior to that, the Fish and Wildlife people were going to take all the people off people to Seattle. And I don't know how true this is, but they spoke among themselves. What if we take these sealers to Seattle? Maybe they'll never come back, they won't have any more sealers. So they decided to take us to Thunder Bay. That's about 40 miles from Juneau. I remember the day we got there, I like feeling. As people say, I didn't like the trees. I feel like I had a cast of folk. You felt you were pushed in by the trees. So I stayed on the boat last, finally got in the barge and went to shore with the people. And they put us into an old abandoned cannery there at Thunder Bay. I remember there was about 600 or 700 people in that one two-storey building. We were really crowded there. I remember that one night came, I remember I slept under a table for the night. We stayed there three days and finally my dad was given a smaller house, so we moved in there. It was a little better. And I was put to work as a waiter in that place, at that place I just mentioned. We used to go down to the beach to get clams, clean them. I really got tired of clams. We ate them almost three times a day sometimes. Because when we first came there, I guess they didn't have any much groceries or anything. So finally, two weeks later, the fishing villa both came and bought some groceries. And we were quite restricted. You couldn't go out as you wanted. I was still in Thunder Bay. Okay. I remember we stayed in those two-storey structure for about a couple of days with the St. George people. Then they had another one across the bay. So they moved the people over at St. George. So we called it St. Paul and St. George site. And after that, it got a little better because prior to that, we used to stay in long line just to eat three meals a day, two or three cooks there. And I worked as a waiter at that time. And then I remember eating a lot of clams. I almost got tired of it. And after we got there, the men were put to repair that big building. About half a year or seven months later, they brought lumber. I don't know where they brought lumber from, but the fishing villa brought in lumber. So they started building better homes, newer homes in that canry there. And we didn't have any toilets or anything. There were outhouses that we used. And I don't know how good the water was, but we drank it. And while I was there, a lot of older people died. They didn't get their died or they got sick with flu and they died. But I remember some of them were already sick when they left the Pribilof. So they got sick and died. I don't remember seeing a doctor there at the first year. I don't think we didn't have any. At least we had two priests that came down with us from St. Paul and St. George. Father Baranov and Father Theodosius. I remember we used to hold services on the boat Saturday nights and Sunday mornings. And finally, after a year, I think they built a small chapel there in Thunder Bay that used to hold services there. I lived in Thunder Bay about six or seven months and my dad moved to Juneau. He got a job in Juneau, so I moved with him and stayed there and worked in there. Baranov Hotel as a busboy. And while I was there, I got drafted in the army. So I served the army in Fort Richardson and Whittier. I stayed in the port company about 12, 18 months unloading boats. The first year in 1943, we went up to the Pribilofs as soldiers because they were sort of men, so they asked all the boys that were drafted. We went up to the Pribilofs in that ceiling up there, catch the seals. They didn't catch any seals in 1942. When we came back in 1943, they had a big catch, then about 117,000 pels were taken. And at that time, I just got paid army pay. I didn't get any extra money or bonuses from that catch. Remember, they used to pay the audience 20 cents a pelt and when they sold it to us $100 a skin. So we really, really lose out. And they told us, when we asked about it, they said we would be paid after we got out of the army. I never saw the money. Then I went back into the army and the following year, 1944, I went on the same boat, the Pribilofs, people were going back to the islands. When we got there, the homes were ransacked and all the furniture and everything put in one, put in some of the smaller buildings and just piled up, you know, from house to house. They're all mixed, we don't know who it belonged to. So they really made a mess up there. So one thing I can't understand is when the Japanese moved out of the loose, why didn't they send us home right away? They kept us down there for another year. I think I know why it's based on Pribilofs. They used our homes as military housing, I think that's why. They didn't take us back right away. As soon as the Japanese left the islands, they could have brought us back within a year. But they kept us there another year. The same here, I think, the army used the buildings here as military outposts. But they built their own stuff, you know, quads and huts all over the chain. And it's a mess now. We've probably seen flying over Kobe, the mole huts around here. But I can't remember getting money from the Pribilofs being paid back. I don't remember that. I remember the people were asked to write down what they lost, you know. I remember my dad did that, what he lost in the house. I remember when they came to the islands in 1943, they used my house as an office. It was officers in office for their duties, I guess. A couple of questions here. Who told you when you were working in a ceiling, who told you that you would be paid later? That was the superintendent of the island Fish and Wildlife Service. He's dead now, Edward Johnson. We were under the Fish and Wildlife Service when we were evacuated. Who asked you to write down what your losses were after the war? I think it was the Fish and Wildlife Service. I'm sure, I don't know if it was the BIA or I think it was Fish and Wildlife. Who informed you that you would be leaving the island? When we were evacuated, the Navy did. Who was responsible for you or who was in charge while you were on the ship being transferred to the southeast? We were under the Navy at that time, but the personnel of the Fish and Wildlife went with us. They were evacuated too, but they ended up in Seattle and not in front of me. Who was responsible for you in southeast? The Fish and Wildlife Service. Can I ask that same question of you, Phil? Sure. Okay. Who was responsible? I'm sorry, who told you that you would have to leave the island? The military police informed the different people. Then we found the Bureau of Indian Affairs people were responsible for us after our trip down. During our trip down, we were on an old Alaska Steamship Line steamer. The name of it was the Alaska. When we got down there, the Bureau of Indian Affairs handled everything that happened to us. Our stay down there and our return. It's interesting to note that during the research of exactly what happened, the Bureau of Indian Affairs refused to release any records of what they did with the allies during that evacuation period. The bill that the President signed calls for the Bureau of Indian Affairs to release those records. All of the records pertaining to the move of the Problovians have been found. And copies of the log that was kept on a daily basis have been found. But no trace of any records of what happened to the people on the chain until the Commission requests them. Then they'll have to turn them over. Okay. Who was in charge of you while you were in Southeast? The Bureau of Indian Affairs. We had a man and his wife. The men were allowed to build a church. That's the first thing that the people wanted. And they built a church, small chapel. They built a school. Who was in charge? Who brought you back? The Bureau of Indian Affairs and the man that was in charge of the move was named Cobalt, C-O-B-A-L-T. Were you asked to write down the damages upon your return to your home? No. Some of the leaders in Alaska wanted to do that. But they didn't know where to send it. And no answers were given. Who can replace these things we've lost? And almost everybody lost something. But they never got a sufficient answer. And that was the bone of contention that Mr. Cobalt was very uncomfortable with. Fine. Okay. Alfred. Okay. Hold on. Could you cut for just a moment? I think that Al wanted to see if we could bring out who was responsible for you upon your return. And when did they think they were responsible for the end of your return? As I said before, we were put in a holding area. And that may have been two weeks. It may have been a little bit longer. But we were not allowed to return it. It was only after the Bureau of Union Affairs made sure that some kind of what he called a... He called it something else. He had a name. Compensation. To compensate for the loss of your home. Oh, we're giving you these two cabanas and here's all the stuff like that. It was after everybody who couldn't move back into their original homes. And their original homes had been replaced by these two 16 by 20 wood frame buildings. It was after that time that the Bureau of Union Affairs decided to leave us. And we never heard of him. Could you tell us about the educational facilities? Well, like I said, it was very crowded. And I was in the seventh grade. And the classrooms were just so crowded that it was impossible to even hear the teacher at times. And when I went back the next year, it was still overcrowded. Like they would take the ones with the highest grades and put them into the next class. Not because they should have been. Like I missed my eighth grade because they did that. And I missed all my grammar and arithmetic that I should have had. And I shouldn't have been passed on. There were several of us the same way. What else I could say about it except that it was very poor education. We really lost, I mean, and really when we, to go on to school it was impossible because we had missed so much during those years. Just on basics, you know, just on basics. Probably Alfred can come on with that, really. Alfred, would you like to say that? Cut for just a moment. Stand by. As Gertrude said, I was a sixth grader when I got to Wrangler. And within three days I was an eighth grader because I had better grades on my daily cast or whatever it was they were giving me. And I found myself in a group of older children and it was hard to concentrate when you feel like you were a young kid among older people. And this really affected my education for several years. And again, as Feldman said earlier, the culture of the alludes was affected. Not only before the war they would have traditional allude parties and we tried to keep them up in Burnett. The older people tried. But somehow the jukebox came into our lives more than the older traditions and it was lost. Okay, we're just about ready to begin. I hope this talk we just had tonight will come out through the commission I'm on so we will be compensated through monies or through something like this will never happen again. Like what if World War III starts? My name is Gromov, they probably like me. There's never a rest in name. I hope that never happens. That's a good point. It's been happening ever since history, I guess, in the United States. The Japanese, the Mexicans, so forth and finally did it to us. I think if they kept us here in the Aleutians and the Pueblos, I don't think we would have been hurt. That must be because the Japanese didn't try to take this area itself and they stayed in Kiska for a while and they moved out. That's it. A very old lady who was very vocal, although she didn't have a good command of the English language, didn't like any part of the move. And when she still had a good help, she talked to Gertrude's mother and my mother and the other leaders in Burnett Inlet and made them promise that if she died down there, she would not be buried there. One of our older ladies died in a hospital in Kachikan. A young man died of tuberculosis at Burnett Inlet and he was buried there in a wet-damp forest, damp, that would have been. And she didn't want that to happen to her. And so when she did die, natural causes, her body was sent to Wrangel where it was embalmed and then returned to Burnett. It was placed under the church until we were brought back to Alaska. When her body was placed under the church, nobody knew when it would be coming back. We had a hard time getting the body on the ship that came to bring us back because the people on the ship said, hey, we're supposed to only take live people. You know, what are you doing with this body or this coffin? And the people in Burnett were aggressive enough to convince the people that they either took that woman or nobody would go. And the same thing happened when we docked up there. The military and the BIA people who met us also had trouble accepting this woman's body. And then they put her in a deep freeze and kept her there until they found out there wasn't too much that they could do about it. And even during the time that we were in the holding area she was kept in a deep freeze and it wasn't until the church furnishings were replaced and the church was put back into order that that lady was finally buried in Alaska according to her wishes. But she made it clear that it didn't matter when she died she would not be buried down there. What was her name? Martha Newell. Newell. I try to thank you.