PHOTO

Olin R. Thompson - Abbotsford, Wisconsin

Army Rank: Private (1918).

Assigned Unit: 107^th Supply Train, 32^nd Division, Co F

Army Serial Number:

Inducted:

Promoted:

Army Discharge: 1919

Remarks:  Overseas Jan. 24, 1918 – 1919

Torpedoed on the Transport Tuscania Feb. 5, 1918

Name also found as Owen R. Thompson

Note: Abbotsford is in the Mayville Township District.

Wife’s Name: Mamie Viola Stewart

(b. Sept. 29, 1897) (d. Nov. 21, 1989)

Married: Married June 1, 1921

Fathers Name:  Thomas Thompson

(b. April 13, 1856 Krazra, Norway) (d. Sept. 18, 1923 Abbotsford)

Mothers Name:  Mary Thompson (b. 1869 Illinois)

Brothers: Maurice, Lloyd, and John Thompson

Sisters: Minette Thompson

Civilian Occupation:

Born:  Dec. 13, 1897 Wisconsin

Died:  Jan. 25, 1985 Minneapolis, Minnesota  (age 87)

Cemetery: Abbotsford City Cemetery, Clark County, Wisconsin

Plot:  Block L   Row 14   Lot 3

My grandfather Olin R. Thompson told me his story about the Tuscania.  When they were brought to England after the torpedoing, his unit was set up in a Quonset hut or something like that.  He remembered corrugated steel for the walls.  Any rate, he and three unit members got drunk and decided to play a trick on the others.  They got sticks and ran the sticks and banged on the sills with them while running and shouting.  The men thought they were being torpedoed again and they bailed out of the building, 3 through the door and 2-3 at a time through the windows.  The Sgt. was one of the first to assess the situation and called roll.  Grandfather and his partners in crime were absent from the roll, having retired to a quiet corner to watch the chaos.  He said they had a interesting time doing 'chores' as he put it for the next two weeks, once they caught the four of them.  I suppose that it was not the wisest way of letting off stress, but he sure made it sound hilarious when he told me about it.

My grandfather served as a stretcher-bearer, and during a skirmish at the front somewhere, he was struck and ran over by an ambulance while running back to the front for another wounded soldier. That seemed almost humorously ironic. 

Lloyd Thorndyke

Sept. 29, 2006