Veteran alumnus recalls war tales

Sunday Dec. 7, 1941, Eb Henson, 24, was quietly lying on his back in his bunk at IU trying to memorize lines for a play. His serene reading was interrupted -- shouts of "Turn on the radio! Turn on the radio!" thundered through the halls. With frantic curiosity, students jumped off their beds, stopped writing their homework assignments, ceased talking to friends and hurriedly rushed to the main lounge to listen.\n"I remember the moment clearly," Henson said. "All pandemonium broke loose. Japan had just attacked Pearl Harbor."\nLooking back 59 years later, Henson remembers how everyone around him felt they were listening to a sports game.\n"War was so alien to us," Henson said. "We felt it was a football game and they made their first touchdown but we were going to strike back and drive them out to victory."\nPositive it would settle in a couple of hours, Henson, mesmerized by the sound of bombs dropping one after another, sat still and listened attentively. He and many other men gathered in North Hall thought that in the fourth quarter, the Americans would charge down the playing field and end the war games. \nThis was their thinking at the start of World War II. Little did they realize this football game would last four years. \nLittle did Henson realize this game would directly affect three years of his life.\n"A lot of fellows volunteered right away," Henson said. "But (IU) President Wells made an announcement saying that those who were in school should stay until the end of the semester and complete their courses."\nEvery man age 18-21 was given a draft number, and Henson was told when his number was going to come up.\n"Wells also said that a draft would be coming soon and that we would be notified within ample time when we would be taken into the service," Henson said. "I knew that my number wasn't until after the semester, so I decided to stay at IU until I was called."\nThrough qualifying as an instructor for camping, scouting, riflery, swimming, various athletics, life saving, canoeing and rowing before his military service, Henson was on the road to surpass many limits within the Navy and later in life. \n"Some people think that they had four years stolen from their life, but I look at it as experiences that would never have happened to me otherwise. I'm going to be 78 in January," Henson said. "Three years is a small period in my life. It's a blink of an eye."\nLooking through Henson's past, one is able to see why three years is but a millisecond in a life filled with hours upon hours of constant aspirations that demanded accomplishment.\n"Life is not a dress rehearsal," Henson said."You go through it once, so enjoy every moment you can because you can't go back. That's why I live life and face life knowing I can't relive it."\n \nTales of Old IU\nHenson's journey began his freshman year at IU. Among his memories he recalls the tradition of burying Jawn Purdue's body in a wooden coffin next to a bon fire as part of the celebration before the Purdue-Indiana game.\n"Six of my buddies decided that it would be funny to resurrect old Purdue's body," Henson said. "So we dug him up and began a merry funeral procession through campus. We went through the commons and then to the girls' dorms with a following of 30 or more men."\nAt one point Henson climbed into the coffin and assumed the role of Old Jawn himself.\n"I feel sad sometimes because we did a lot of fun things that have fallen to the wayside," he said. "Students may remember a prom or a dance, but they are so busy with classes nowadays. I think it's a tragedy. We may have been a little outlandish. But it makes for great laughs when you look back."\nHenson also participated in the "Battle over Freshman Walk." This is also no longer a tradition at IU. The walkway that cuts through Dunn Meadow was known as the territory the sophomores had claimed. That did not last long with Henson and his freshman friends who brought paint to the sidewalk and wrote 'Freshman Walk' in big letters while chasing off the sophomores.\n"I think my freshman class was a feisty bunch," Henson said. "Maybe it was because we knew we would be drafted and had become cocky."\nHenson was called to war where he quickly moved up in the ranks and ended up being the first naval officer to enter Japan after the peace treaty had been signed. After WWII, Henson finished his studies at IU and moved on to create bigger goals for himself.\nIn Belize, Henson caught snakes and scorpions and dived into underwater caves in search of mastodon bones. He hiked through all the jungles in South America. He wrestled alligators in the jungles of Cuba and Florida. Henson was also the first man to give Jacques Cousteau's invention the Aqua-Lung a test run for a movie with MGM studios. \n"Failure has never been a part of my vocabulary," Henson said. "I learned from the Navy 'a good, well-organized retreat is sometimes the best advancement.'" \nWhile these concurred adventures all related to his athletic ability, Henson is also very aware of the arts.\n"We are on our 51st anniversary of the Pioneer Playhouse in Danville, Ky.," said Henson who is the director of the playhouse. "It is the oldest outdoor theater in the nation, and we have had famous actors graduate from our program."\nAmong Henson's well-known students are actor John Travolta, who attended the playhouse at age 15. Jim Varney, best known for his role as Ernest, attended the camp at age 18 and Lee Majors, who became the Six Million Dollar Man, was 15 when he participated in productions.\n"We are very well-known in New York and Hollywood as the finest place to come learn the theater during the summer," said Henson.\nBy no means has Henson "settled down." In fact, he might have just begun his most challenging venture right at home in Danville.\n"I have kept a diary since I was twelve years old," Henson said. "About three years ago I got out all that I had written, started reading it and decided to write my memoirs. I am currently in the process of finishing them."\nAbove all, Henson has strived to make every day of his life not a dress rehearsal, but rather a Broadway debut.