POMONA >> James Cornforth, 100, never imagined the path his life would take from a small farm in Oklahoma to being a prisoner of war. He would find himself working in groves in Orange County, watching the Inland Empire transform from vast orange and citrus groves to suburban communities, or seeing all the advances in technology.
But the centenarian has suffered, first as a prisoner of war and later in life; having to bury his youngest daughter, Jenny; and the love his life for 68 years, Ethel Lois. Cornforth, who moved to Pomona with his late wife in 1945, modestly admits he doesn’t know what the key is to his longevity.“I don’t know. You just got to keep it going, take it one step at a time,” he advised, in his soft, raspy voice.Despite his age, the World War II veteran has a keen memory of the events that have transpired in his life, and during a recent discussion even corrected his daughter about certain details of a story. He has trouble hearing, with those around him often having to speak loudly or repeat their comments. On a recent afternoon, Cornforth shared his life’s journey after reaching the age of 100.He was born on the family farm in Seward, Oklahoma on June 13, 1915. The second youngest of four boys, Cornforth jokingly admitted he was the black sheep of the family. When all his brothers graduated from then-Central State Teachers College (now University of Central Oklahoma), in Edmond, Cornforth was just entering his freshmen year. He would meet his future wife, Ethel Lois, here.“I didn’t have much sense. I kind of messed up, and I was playing sports, but I wasn’t keeping my grades up,” he said about college. He left college when he was in his 20s and moved out West in 1935. He followed a friend, by way of a Model T Ford, and ended up in Buena Park, living with relatives and working on orange groves.“Boy, I thought I had done some hard work. That was the hardest work I had done in my life,” he said, laughing as he recounted the ins and outs of the job.Overseas, the U.S. was involved in World War II, and men between the ages of 18 and 45 were required to register with their local draft boards. Cornforth said he recalled having signed up on his draft board in Anaheim. When Cornforth moved back to Oklahoma, he transferred his draft information with the Army to a reception center in Oklahoma. In the early part of 1942, after going through some training in Kentucky and New Jersey, Cornforth was on a ship and on his way to a military camp in Ireland.About 30 days into combat, Cornforth, and his unit were captured by German forces in northern Africa as the Allied troops were attempting to get across to Italy.
He ended up where some 4,000 POWs were also held, at camp Stalag 3b in what was then Danzig, Poland.
“It was hard - you didn’t know you were going to survive for a while. You were just living from one day to the next because they were tough,” he shared.
“You march along, and you can hardly make it and if you fell down, they would shoot you. You see that and boy you have to keep on walking. You can hardly do it, but you had to. You knew you had to if you wanted to live.”
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Cornforth said the Nazis would only give him a loaf of bread, which tasted like sawdust, to share with five other soldiers.
“That stuff was just like a brick but you had to eat it; you had to eat it,” he said.
Most of the stuff the POWs had was the soup that Cornforth could only describe as a bundle of shingles that is boiled. Some of the soup was covered with maggots or worms.
“I’ll tell you, you get hungry you’ll eat anything, or you’ll try it,” he said.
He went from 250 pounds to weighing 150 pounds by the time he was liberated in June 1945.
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Not long after he returned to Oklahoma, he reconnected with his sweetheart Ethel Lois.
“She picked me up and another day or two later we got married. She’s the best thing every in my life,” he says, as his voice cracks and he momentarily begins to weep.
By 1948, they had been living in Pomona for three years when Cornforth took a job with the Department of Corrections in Chino. He would work there for 30 years until he retired at 63.
His youngest daughter, Janell Cornforth, said her father was open about his time in the war, even speaking some German to her and her sister Jenny growing up.
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After his retirement, Cornforth, and his wife became interested in the family genealogy, even making a trip overseas to find relatives.
Janell Cornforth said her father didn’t recognize any of the places from the war because everything had changed so much.
In 2013, Cornforth lost his daughter, Jenny, to breast cancer and then his wife, Ethel Lois, died from complications after being involved in a car accident. While he now lives alone, Cornforth gets around his house by wheelchair.
“I usually get up at 7 a.m. I come downstairs and mess around and pick up the paper,” he said.
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Most days he spends sitting on a chair in the living room, and, depending on the season, he’s either watching TV rooting for Oklahoma State or for his beloved Angels, which he’s followed since the team was created in 1961.
Janell Cornforth has tried to get weekly assistance for her father, but he doesn’t want it.
He chimes in: “I’m getting to be quite the cook.”
His daughter explains he has learned to make waffles, bacon, and eggs.
“And you made biscuits?” she asked.
“I tried to,” Cornforth said. “Biscuits are the best kind you buy in the store.”
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While he doesn’t carry much for technology, Cornforth does have a cell phone – a flip phone. His daughter Janell Cornforth and her husband Paul Bickner try to come down at least once a month from northern California for a visit.
“It’s been a long trail. I think I should give them up,” he jokes about his birthday. “But you can’t keep them from coming.”