History does not always sit in textbooks or museum displays. Sometimes it waits quietly in forgotten corners of our homes. For Richard “Rich” and Susan Gouldin of Warsaw, Virginia, that hidden history emerged in the form of two attic scrapbooks, revealing a remarkable story of World War II.
The discovery, which celebrated the courage of family hero Major Robert Alfred Gouldin, also resurrected the largely overlooked contributions of Black soldiers whose labor and bravery were critical to the Allied war effort.
In 2020, during the long months of the pandemic, Rich, the current chairman of the board at Rappahannock Community College, and Susan, a retired Richmond County Public Schools teacher of 30 years, began the daunting task of clearing out the home where Rich had grown up. His mother had passed away, and the house, filled with generations of belongings, felt heavy with memory. In the attic, tucked between old trunks and yellowing boxes, they found two albums bound in a hand-painted wooden cover.
At first glance, the albums appeared ordinary. However, as the Gouldins opened the pages, they realized they were holding something extraordinary: hundreds of carefully preserved Polaroid photographs, letters, and clippings, all from more than 80-years-ago, detailing the military life of Rich’s uncle, Major Robert Alfred Gouldin, or “Uncle Fred” as he was known.
“We did not know what it was at first,” Rich recalled. “It is amazing that these even exist.”
Major Gouldin was born in Caroline County on June 29, 1911, to Robert Buckner and Pattie Broaddus Gouldin. He was one of four children in the family. A bright and determined young man, he graduated from Virginia Tech in 1933 with a degree in Agricultural Engineering and served in the Corps of Cadets. Before entering military service, he applied his skills at Appalachian Power Company, and on July 24, 1935, he married Daisy Chapman Taliaferro of Essex County, beginning a partnership that would endure even through the hardships of war.
In another unique twist, while moving a rather broad and tall cupboard, they heard a clang and discovered a silver saber had fallen to the floor from its resting place, hidden atop the furniture piece. Upon closer inspection, they realized it had been inscribed “R.A. Gouldin, ‘33” commemorating Robert’s college graduation. The intricately engraved, gleaming silver saber was another beautiful addition to the unfolding story.
When the United States entered World War II, Gouldin answered the call to serve. On May 31, 1942, he was assigned to oversee Company B of the 388th Engineer Battalion, an all-Black unit tasked with one of the most challenging construction projects of the war: the Alaska-Canada (ALCAN) Highway and Pipeline.
In 1942, panic spread across the American military establishment. Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor had exposed the vulnerability of the Pacific, and planners feared Alaska, thinly defended and strategically vital, could be the next target. The solution was bold and daunting: build a 1,600-mile highway through Canada’s and Alaska’s remote wilderness, creating a supply line for troops, fuel, and equipment if invasion came.
The project had to be completed in less than a year. To tackle the impossible, the U.S. Army deployed more than 11,000 engineers, including nearly 3,500 Black soldiers organized into the 93rd, 95th, and 97th Engineer Regiments and the 388th Engineer Battalion. Despite segregation and discrimination, these men endured some of the harshest labor in the most unrelenting conditions imaginable.
The photographs in Gouldin’s scrapbook capture their struggle. Soldiers cut roads through permafrost with axes and bulldozers, fought swarms of mosquitoes in the summer, and endured bone-numbing cold in winter. Trucks sank axle-deep in mud. Bridges were improvised from logs cut on-site.
“It was pretty rugged conditions that they were going through,” Rich said. “They did not get the accolades that they deserve. You can see in the photos the conditions they were under. Cold, mud, isolation, and yet, they pushed through.”
For decades, the story of these Black soldiers had been all but erased from public memory. The Gouldin’s find was a rescue mission for history.
For Major Gouldin, the ALCAN Highway was just the beginning. His career carried him from the frozen tundra of Canada and Alaska to the battlefields of Europe, where he commanded the Second Battalion of the 355th Engineers.
One of his most critical assignments came in 1942 in Belgium. The Albert Canal, a vital waterway for transporting supplies to Allied depots in Liege, had been wrecked by retreating German forces. On November 1st, 1942, his men worked in freezing conditions to clear the channel and repair infrastructure. By early December, the route was open, a logistical victory that kept Allied forces supplied in the final push toward Germany.
Only months later, his final assignment would cost him his life. On April 3rd, 1942, Gouldin was tasked with leading construction of the first railroad bridge ever built across the Rhine River by an invading army, the Allies, at Wesel, Germany. Gouldin and his team had 12 days to construct the bridge, working around the clock, the bridge was completed in just over ten days. The bridge, which was later named in his honor, was essential for transporting heavy equipment and supplies into Germany. In the rushing waters of the Rhine, Gouldin and two of his men drowned.
Gouldin was posthumously awarded the Legion of Merit Belgian Medal for “meritorious conduct in the performance of outstanding service from August 24th, 1942, to February 27th, 1943 for his work in clearing the Albert Canal Channel of mines and repairing infrastructure.”
It was an honor his wife, Daisy, accepted on his behalf.
In a letter presenting the award, Col. Thomas A. Adcock, commander of the 355th Engineers, noted, “Major Gouldin was the finest officer I ever had serve under me.”
When the Gouldins realized the historical weight of the scrapbooks, they knew they could not simply tuck them back into storage. Susan said, “Gracious goodness, we need to preserve this.” They contacted Sylvia Marshall at the Virginia War Memorial in Richmond.
For nearly a year, Sylvia Marshall and her team worked to digitize the albums. Each page was scanned, cataloged, and stabilized. Fragile photographs were sleeved, brittle paper backed and captions transcribed.
“Just to be able to hold the history, to see little-known pieces of American history during World War II, and to understand the scale and importance of it, was quite amazing and honoring for me,” Marshall said. For the Gouldins, watching the preservation unfold was profoundly moving.
“Sylvia was a godsend. She really was,” Susan said. “She showed the reverence and respect that needed to be shown.”
The scrapbooks illuminate the broader history of Black soldiers in segregated units who were essential to the Allied war effort. They were often denied proper equipment, overlooked for promotions, and their triumphs downplayed.
History often celebrates the battles but forgets the builders. The engineers built the roads, bridges, and airfields that made victory possible. Without them, the tanks and troops could not move. Yet, their names rarely appear in the headlines. The Gouldins’ albums help correct that injustice. Every photograph and caption testify: We were here. We built this. We mattered.
In May of 2019, prior to discovering the scrapbooks, Gouldins traveled to Europe to retrace his uncle’s final steps. In Germany, they stood at the Wesel bridge where he drowned. Their journey continued to the Netherlands American Cemetery in Margraten, where Major Gouldin rests alongside thousands of Allied soldiers.
Robert’s resting place is one of deep beauty and reverence He lies with a group known as the “Margraten Boys,” the affectionate name given to the young American men who were buried there during and after World War II. Established in 1944 by the U.S. Army, the cemetery became a permanent resting place for soldiers who had fallen in the Netherlands and surrounding regions.
The Margraten Boys represent more than names on headstones. Local Dutch families, many of whom lived under Nazi occupation, have maintained the cemetery for generations, tending to the immaculate grounds, planting flowers, and ensuring that each grave is respected. For decades, they honored these soldiers who freed them as heroes, keeping the memory of their sacrifice alive in a country far from the soldiers’ homes. Rich was struck by the commitment of the local families, calling it “extraordinary.”
“Every cross is cared for. Every name is remembered,” Susan said, adding that it gives visitors a sense that the men did not die in vain, and that their story continues to be told.
“Seeing his name there, among so many young men who gave everything, it is humbling,” she explained. “It is more than a grave; it is a community that has embraced their legacy. It shows that the sacrifices of all these soldiers are recognized and preserved with great dignity.”
For the Gouldins, visiting the site was a moment of profound closure and connection, tying the attic albums they discovered at home to the wider tapestry of history in Europe.
More than 80-years after its construction, the ALCAN Highway still winds through forests and mountains. It remains a living monument to the engineers who carved it from wilderness. For the men of the 388th and Major Robert Gouldin, the highway is a legacy of resilience and dignity.
“There is a lot of history there, and if we do not preserve the legacy, the story will die,” Rich said when reflecting on the discovery and contents of the pictures.
The albums are more than scrapbooks. They are proof of courage, perseverance, and sacrifice. They are a reminder that the fight for recognition can last decades, but truth has a way of surfacing.
“Sometimes history comes to you in unexpected ways,” Rich reflected. “It found us. It is our job to make sure it is not forgotten again.”
For the men of the 388th Engineer Battalion, long denied the accolades they earned, the scrapbooks offer what history once withheld: recognition, honor, and remembrance.