Heh!.....my Dad (from upstate NY) was stationed at Polk during WWII. Which is where he met my Mom (Louisiana girl). Which is why I ended up pitching hay bales in August.
Gehring’s had one field that was 1/2 mile by 1/2 mile. It was divided into quarters, all growing onions. When the onions broke surface, one weeded them on hands and knees. Because the onions were, initially so small, we had to use bare fingers becuase with gloves we might pull up the onions with the weeds. 1/4 mile long rows. Not as physical as pitching hay bales but still hot under the sun on the black muck soil.
Ah, what we did when we were young.....