From dirt supply line to six lanes of bustle and business

Drivers regularly travel roadways like “telegraph road” or “post road” without giving the names a second thought. Yet, road names often have historical roots with interesting stories behind them. South Florida’s Military Trail is one with a history older than Florida’s statehood.

Today’s Military Trail is a 46-mile, north and south, commuter route running from Jupiter to Pompano Beach, teeming with modern development and prone to congestion. It’s a far cry from its origins as a trail blazed by Tennessee and Missouri military volunteers during the Second Seminole War (1835- 1842).

Well before Florida became a U.S. territory in 1821, the Seminole people were being driven out by settlers moving into their homeland. Conflicts naturally ensued, eventually leading to the three Seminole Wars between 1817 and 1858.

The second war erupted after the U.S. government tried to forcefully remove all Seminoles from Florida.

Seminoles were adept at guerrilla warfare and used their knowledge of the Everglades to their advantage. Outnumbered and outgunned, however, by 1842, according to britannica.com, “some 3,000 to 4,000 Seminoles had been resettled, and only a few hundred remained. The Armed Occupation Act of 1842 promoted white settlement in Florida and the Second Seminole War was declared over on August 14, 1842.”

Toward the beginning of the second conflict, President Andrew Jackson dispatched General Thomas Jesup to assume control of the Florida troops. The military began building a string of posts in South Florida, starting with Fort Dallas (today’s Miami) in 1836, then Fort Jupiter in 1838.

Jesup ordered 233 Tennessee volunteers to cut a supply trail from Fort Jupiter to the New River in what is now Broward County.

The group was led by Major William Lauderdale, a longtime colleague of Andrew Jackson and fellow Tennessean. Volunteers followed the dryer ground of a coastal pine ridge, cutting a 63-mile path through the hammocks to the river in just four days. There, they established the garrison eventually named Fort Lauderdale. That path, originally known as “Lauderdale’s Route,” was used for military transport during the next two decades of the Seminole conflict and eventually dubbed “Military Trail.”

After the Seminole wars ended, the trail continued to see foot traffic and passenger and freight movement via covered wagons. Eventually, the trail slipped into relative disuse, until Henry Flagler put his mark on Florida in the late 19th century.

Flagler’s East Coast Railway and the resort hotels he built along the coast put South Florida on the map. Soon, rampant land speculation took hold across South Florida, which included the area along Military Trail. By the early 20th century, moneyed Northerners were lured by sales-literature rife with praise for what was otherwise wilderness and swampland. They arrived first by train and eventually by automobile, all wanting their piece of Florida.

By the 1920s, coastal towns like Palm Beach and Lake Worth were blossoming. To handle the influx of people and their automobiles, better roads were needed. Along with new roads, improvements were made to existing routes like Military Trail. Some sections along Military Trail were paved as early as 1923. Other stretches were improved, often by hand, under Franklin Roosevelt’s WPA in the 1930s.

Yet, up to WWII, much of South Florida remained undeveloped and lengths of Military Trail still unimproved, mainly serving area farms and ranches. Rather than residents and vacationers, herds of roaming cattle filled the landscape.

Post-WWII, another real estate boom brought an even greater influx of arrivals than in the 1920s. Palm Beach became one of the fastest-growing metro areas in the country, with its population doubling in the 1950s. Military Trail grew into a transportation artery as Palm Beach and other coastal cities spread westward.

Amazingly, even into the 1960s, there were sections of Military Trail that were still two-lanes and even dirt roadway. Delray Beach, not much more than a sleepy retirement village in the 1960s, contained a dirt length of the road flanked by farmland.

In Boca Raton, Lynn University began life in 1962, astride a dirt stretch. As late as 1979, Military Trail in Boynton Beach remained a single-lane dirt path mainly used by area farms and ranches. Most everything west was still agricultural. In 1980, a shopping center with a Kmart being built west of Military Trail was hailed as a big deal. A small stretch of single-lane pavement designated as “Old Military Trail” still exists in Boynton Beach.

Military Trail experienced its own growing pains alongside South Florida’s exponential growth in the 1980s. Now often at six lanes, it’s hard to even envision the wilderness trail troops carved by hand nearly two centuries earlier. And, while shorter, today’s 46 miles still follow the path soldiers marched from Fort Jupiter to Fort Dallas and serves as a reminder of a somber chapter in Florida’s history.

Soliders without guns

Bravery, brav·ery | \ ‘brav-re the quality or state of having or showing mental or moral strength to face danger, fear, or difficulty.

This year we celebrate the 75th anniversary of World War II’s ending (1939-1945). So, this Veteran’s Day, I wanted to share what bravery looks like to me by honoring the service of the everyday young women who enlisted.

These are the lesser known heroes of WWII. The thousands of spirited souls who signed up not knowing what role they would play in what would become the deadliest conflict in human history, a war that involved over 30 countries, with over 70 million fatalities.

Congress instituted the Women’s Auxiliary Army Corps in May of 1942, which would later become the Women’s Army Corps. These women were known as WACs and they worked in more than 200 non-combatant positions stateside.

It wasn’t until three years after the end of WWII that women became a permanent fixture of the United States military services when the Women’s Armed Services Integration Act of 1948  law was passed.

Of the 350,000 women who served with the armed forces during World War II, it is estimated that only 14,500 of those women are still alive today. One of them turned ninety-nine years old this April during COVID-19, and I happen to love her immensely. She’s my grandmother.

Every so often my mind wanders to a place where Nana is grabbing my hand, swirling me around in the kitchen when I was still smaller than she, rousing her memory with wartime stories while humming The Andrews Sisters’ “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy [of Company B].”

She made wartime sound like the movies.

Over the years Doris “Nana” Clougher has relished in sharing countless stories about her life with me. During adolescence, she survived whooping cough, walking miles in brutal blizzards, the death of her father, and pencils in her Christmas stocking during The Great Depression.

When the war began in 1939 she was a small-town girl from Upstate New York who worked as an assistant clerk for the Massena Town Hall.

The United States entered the war after Pearl Harbor was attacked on Dec. 7, 1941.

Doris continued working for a time until she felt the need to make a difference. She was already receiving letters from her two younger brothers abroad (one a Navy pilot, the other a sailor.)

She enlisted in 1944. No one knew how long the war would last or whether we would win, but she was determined to join her brothers and make her contribution to the United States of America as a woman and a patriot. I grew up believing my grandmother was truly brave.

My grandmother remembers being frightened. She speaks of the fear she had leaving home for the first time. Basic training takes her to Fort Oglethorpe, Georgia where she runs through tear-gas filled underground tunnels. The WACs were being prepared for the war to come to US soil.

When finished with basic training, Doris became a medical stenographer at Tilton General Hospital in Fort Dix, New Jersey. The hospital was administering rehabilitation and physiotherapy for injured and amputee soldiers. She made rounds with the doctors, recording what care the injured would need before returning home.

She met my grandfather, John Clougher, at Fort Dix, and they were married in the service before settling in New Jersey to raise their family.

After the war Doris was a loving and loved wife, a beloved mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and collectively everyone’s “Nana.”

She was always well known for her Irish stew and cream puffs, but most of all for her perfect grandmotherliness.

Doris “Nana” Clougher

There aren’t enough words to describe how much my grandmother means to me. I learned almost everything I know in matters of heart, mind, and soul from her. I’m truly honored to share her humble story.

As much as she cherishes her family, she reveres her time in the service of her country as the most poignant of her life. I can just hear her saying proudly to me, “Aimo, I’m a WAC,” with a little salute.

She would have many personal triumphs and tribulations over the course of ninety-nine years, but no achievement or challenge as near and dear to her heart as her time with the United States Army.

The often marginalized, under-appreciated, and over- looked group of soldiers were no doubt the WACs of theWWII generation.

She was a small, blonde, blue-eyed farm girl from Upstate New York. She answered a call that inevitably changed her life.

So what does bravery look like to me? Bravery is stepping outside of your comfort zone and into a commitment and duty for the greater good. As did these often forgotten soldiers. As did Nana.