Dorothy Miller: The War Bride

CALLAWAY, Neb. — The first time Dorothy Wallace saw Henry Miller, he was clinging to the railing at an ice rink in her hometown of Glasgow, Scotland.

It was 1943. Dorothy was 18 years old. Henry was in the U.S. Army, training for the invasion of Nazi-occupied Europe during World War II.

Henry asked for her help and made a show of leaning on her for support as they did their laps. He asked for her address, saying he could be shipped out and wanted to stay in touch. Against her better judgment, Dorothy gave him her address.

The next night, Dorothy returned from a dance to find Henry in her living room, talking to her mother and brother.

“He didn’t lack for nerve,’’ she said, laughing.

The romance was kindled. Unlike other Yanks, Miller didn’t chew gum and didn’t call Dorothy “honey.”

“I never liked that. He didn’t do it,’’ she said. “He was always a nice, sincere fellow. He was genuine all the way.’’

Dorothy and Henry married in Scotland after he returned at war’s end. A year later, she came to America with a boatload of other war brides from across Europe. Last stop: Henry’s rented farm near Gothenburg, Neb.

Henry was the oldest of eight children. When Dorothy stepped onto that (train) platform in Gothenburg, they were all there to meet her. ... They were a good family to join, took her right in. Just about swallowed her up. No time to be lonely or homesick.

The couple lived in a sod-and-frame house for two years before buying a ranch near Callaway.

She wasn’t as lonely as you might think. When you live out here, the land shrinks. Somebody lives over a hill a mile away, they’re your neighbor. In fact, Dorothy talks about the neighborhood back in those days. Six or seven families there were in their neighborhood. Well, that doesn’t mean it’s one house after another on a shaded street in town. That means six or seven ranch houses within two or three miles of one another. Those houses were down in the valleys and hollows. Couldn’t even see them from her place, but they were there. That’s a neighborhood in these parts.

Dorothy Miller, 84, said there was a common thread to the neighborhood: most were young couples starting families after the war.

“We were a close-knit bunch,’’ she said. “We had such good times. The men would get together to brand and work cattle. The women would make the meals and the kids would come and play. We just had a very happy neighborhood. It was a special bunch in these hills.’’

Henry died of cancer in 1977.

“It’s sad there are very few of us left,’’ Miller said. “I’ve never regretted coming here for sure. Life’s good. It just keeps going. It’s an interesting life.’’

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