Roger, being a bright child and his birth date being October, was able to start attending the Midway School across the pasture at the age of four. He graduated from Grantsburg High School at seventeen and had close to two years at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, when he was called into the army. He was in the post war occupation army as a lieutenant and went overseas to the European sector and became Aide de Camp to some general in the occupation army of Germany. While serving in Germany he met Sarah Smith of Denver, Colorado who was at the time administrative assistant to the Chief of Chaplains of the Armed Forces in Europe. They were married in Denver, August 11, 1949.

I (Maurice) remember him bringing his new bride to Wisconsin shortly after that. They got as far as Cushing, Wisconsin, stayed with a Jensen family for a day and a half while the snow storm subsided and the plows could get through. They were driving a Studebaker, a 2-door model with the three-torpedo front end and grille.

He served in the army for eight years, and reached the rank of Captain. He remained in the inactive reserves and was promoted to the rank of Major, January 3, 1958. I personally remember him tell he had the opportunity to attend West Point through some Senator from California.

During his four and a half years of civilian life, he was affiliated with the Travelers Insurance Agency of Hartford, Connecticut, working through a branch office in San Francisco. He was Assistant Group Supervisor. I remember they had the Foremost Dairy account and Roger flew into Duluth during a strike at the milk-handler union. He had something to do with the benefit package offered by Travelers.

Roger had gone in for minor physical concerns in December of 1957. When the reports came back he was told he was terminally ill. Delroy, Don, Irvin and I left on New Year’s Day, 1958 and drove to San Francisco. Rudy and Gordon left Washington so they reached San Francisco shortly ahead of us. We were there when he died. Don stayed in California and attended the services there and flew back to Wisconsin with Sarah and the casket.

Some of the old family friends thought I had died when they heard that Otto Peterson’s youngest son had died. Roger had been gone from the community for fourteen years and people forgot about him. I know this for a fact. I answered the phone in the mortuary on the morning of the funeral and an elderly lady’s voice asked if they could view the remains of Maurice at that time. Pastor Dahl was standing beside me at the time. I remember he thought it was very funny.