At the present time, I have no intention of delving into the history of the United States in the early 1930s or the desperation that drove thousands of young men to join the CCC for the small amount of $30 per month. That may happen, but at the present I am chiefly interested in the fact that there were projects on Camp Road and below Snow Hill, in the wilds of Worcester County, Maryland, and the logistics behind it.
As a young boy in the late 1950s, as I rode with my family through the Pocomoke Forest on my way to Ocean City, I saw row after row of middle aged Loblolly Pines extending off the still-sand roads, straight as soldiers and perfectly spaced. Dad told me that they were planted by a group of boys working for an outfit called the Civilian Conservation Corps, and that his oldest brother, my uncle, had been part of it.
I guess that's what sparked my interest.
As a young boy in the late 1950s, as I rode with my family through the Pocomoke Forest on my way to Ocean City, I saw row after row of middle aged Loblolly Pines extending off the still-sand roads, straight as soldiers and perfectly spaced. Dad told me that they were planted by a group of boys working for an outfit called the Civilian Conservation Corps, and that his oldest brother, my uncle, had been part of it.
I guess that's what sparked my interest.