Dad wrote home this Veteran’s Day 1945 from Frankfurt on Maine, Germany, as he did nearly every night of his deployment during World War II. The war was over. In the past seven months, President Roosevelt had died, Harry Truman was sworn in as president, Germany had surrendered, bombs were dropped on Nagasaki and Hiroshima, and, in September, Japan had formally surrendered. On what was often referred to as Armistice Day, or the end of “the war to end all wars,” Dad recognized the significance and said simply that he hoped “to be coming home soon.”
In his letter, Dad talked about the correspondence he’d received from family, book recommendations he’d gotten from The New York Times book review, a book he’d read and enjoyed by French author Andre Maurois, and how he hoped to spend Christmas with friends in England whom he’d met while stationed at the 303rd Station Hospital at Lilford Hall in Northamptonshire. It was a chatty letter, upbeat except for mentioning his dislike of K-rations (except for the chocolate and cigarettes).
Dad wrote hundreds of letters during World War II; his family saved them and I have read most of them. What strikes me about his letters is how important letter writing and receiving were to Dad during the war and throughout his life.
By this date in 1945, he was no longer dealing with hospital admissions, injuries, communicable diseases, and deaths, because the hospitals had been closed and he was moved to an office. But the nightmares must still have been many. It would have been soothing for his family, who were expecting him home soon, to know that Dad was reading the newspaper and doing everyday things. And perhaps it gave him peace to write about them, as well.
According to the National World War II Museum in New Orleans, Operation Magic Carpet, the return of more than 8 million men and women from 55 theaters across four continents, “stands as one of the greatest achievements of the entire war.” For 360 days, the “largest combined air and sealift ever organized” brought 22,222 Americans home every day for almost a year.
Demobilization was based on points. Called the “Adjusted Service Rating Score,” the points were given for time served, service overseas, number of dependents, and awards earned. Dad enlisted after college, in 1943, had no dependents, and earned no awards; he was near the bottom of the coming home list. It was March of 1946 before he left France on the Sea Sturgeon, arriving in New York Harbor eight days later. While he took a break from writing letters for a short time, he soon resumed when he left for graduate school at Northwestern University.
It was Dad who taught me to enjoy writing, how to write an interesting letter, and to have confidence to write more. I’m glad never to have had to employ those skills during wartime. I’m also proud of his service during World War II and that he brightened the lives of many during his deployment by writing about ordinary things and perhaps lessening their fears for their loved ones and the unknown.
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This blog first appeared in the November 8, 2024 Veterans Day issue of the Fernandina Beach News Leader.
Your Dad was an quietly amazing man who we all owe a debt to.
Happy Thanks giving.
Shelley