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rumbled potato diggers, trucks, and every other imaginable piece of equipment. A man who was a real estate agent volunteered to drive as I stacked the bales coming up the side of the truck. Other trucks poured onto the field, and, shortly after dark, the hay was all safely in the barn. A group of men helped me feed the cows before we retired for the night. Back early the next day at dawn to take care of the animals, again I was not alone. I directed a whole crew with regard to Mr. Paul’s instructions on the feeding. After the sun warmed the air enough, the half dozen or so diggers started again to roll through the fields. I took the job of forking away the debris piling up along the edges of the conveyor belt in one cellar. When I would finish I would take my place picking through the potatoes. Standing by me on one side was a banker, on the other side was a school teacher. There were men from the sawmill, businessmen, secretaries, and people from every walk of life, as well as fellow teenagers. There were so many people and so much equipment that the biggest problem was trying to keep out of each others’ way. In fact, the potatoes were outpacing the cellars’ capacity to store them and some diggers were sent on to other jobs. 10