Letters from the war

Letters from the war

A year long correspondence from Harold Obee to his wife, Ellen January to December, 1945

1

Foreword

b My father, Harold Obee, was a theater professor, as pure an academic as you might find. When I was a child, most days and nights I could find him in his study with his books and his papers, with a pipe in the corner of his mouth and a desk lamp pulled down low.

While mementoes and childrens’ art came and went on his study shelves and walls, souvenirs of the single year he spent in Europe at the close of World War II were always there.

On the wall above his file cabinet hung photos of Marienbad, a spa town in what was then Czechoslovakia where he was stationed for a while. In his closet, a German officer’s sword hung on a hook, and I have vague memories of a German pistol, a Luger, that he showed me once.

I think as the years passed that souvenir must have lost its appeal, because I didn’t see it again.

He did not speak fondly of wars and sometimes chastised my friends and I as we mowed each other down with imaginary machine guns in the backyard. “Wars are not glamorous,” he would say in a quiet but stern voice.

He also often spoke of the corruption he saw as World War II came to an end and as Europe started sorting the damage and the changes, the new alliances and post war pacts. “I could have made a lot of money,” he said, if he had set aside his notions of right and wrong.

In addition to his pictures and souvenirs, on the top shelf of his closet he kept a file that contained maps, brochures, flyers, old newspapers, clipped articles and his military records. And in a brown folder secured with elastic was a bundle of letters he wrote to his wife Ellen, pretty much

one a day for the year he was in Europe. She took it upon herself to carefully number and file them in chronological order.

For the last decade or so, off and on, I’ve been transcribing and editing those letters. They are, at times, heartbreaking. While stationed in the United States, he lost his older brother to heart failure, and when he was in Europe, his mother succumbed to cancer and weeks and weeks went by before he got the news. The letters can also be tedious, as he recounts virtually every meal he eats and every letter he gets, and Army censors keep him from disclosing much of what has happening in the war.

But there also are moments of vivid description – crossing the Atlantic on the way to France on a stripped-down ocean liner turned troop ship, a mad dash around Paris after liberation to take in the sights, and the frantic pace of the race across Europe in General George Patton’s Army as the Allies closed in on Berlin.

In putting this collection together, I have cut some letters short and in some cases ignored entire letters when they did not advance the story or shed new light on what he was experiencing. In addition to the letters Harold wrote to Ellen, there are a few letters from his mother and brother and a few Harold wrote to an old Army friend that were returned after the war.

So here is a snapshot of a homesick soldier, impatient with needless Army protocol, at times fascinated by what was unfolding before him, and at times bored by the monotany, from the day he was drafted to his return to the States on Christmas Eve, 1945.– Fred Obee, January 2021

Reporting for duty

Harold was the son of Frederick W. Obee, in his youth a circuit riding Methodist preacher in Maryland and West Virginia, and Carrie Epler, a descendent of German immigrants who settled in Pennsylvania. Their first son, Latimer, was born in West Virgina. The family ultimately settled in Ohio, the state of Frederick’s birth, and Harold was born there in 1915.

While attending college in Adrian, Michigan, Harold met his wife to be, Ellen Bruce, and they married in 1940 in the 19th Century brick farmhouse near Blissfield, Michigan where Ellen grew up. Before entering the service, Harold was a teacher, first at Anderson Junior High School in

Harold Brehm Obee reported for duty with the U.S. Army on July 24, 1942, seven months after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Everyday staples were being rationed, bonds to fund the war were being sold, and in every neighborhood, men able to serve were lining up to enlist. Harold fully accepted it was his duty to join the effort, but before being drafted actively looked for positions where, as much as possible, he could stay away from front line combat.

“I will survive this war,” he promised his wife Ellen.

2

Cincinnati, Ohio and then at St. Bernard High School, also in Cincinnati, but he would teach there only one year. On March 7, 1942, two years after his marriage to Ellen, his draft notice arrived at the Probasco Street house in Cincinnati where he and Ellen lived. He was classified 1-A. One month later, the Nazi’s invaded Denmark and Norway. By the summer, France, Belgium, Luxembourg and the Netherlands had all surrendered to Nazi aggression. By September 1940, the blitz against England was under way, and of course, on Dec. 7, 1941, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. War was immediately declared on Japan and by January 1942, 26 allied nations declared their intent to stop Japan, Germany and Italy.

As the nation moved to a war footing, Harold tried to find a position where he could fulfill his duty safely. He applied to the Marine Corps for officer training but was denied in a March 27, 1942 letter. “The great need of the Marine Corps today is for young men physically fit for active field duty,” the denial letter explained.

He applied for an appointment in the Naval Reserve as an officer, but that application also was denied. Similarly, the Army Air Force turned down Harold’s application to become a psychological assistant in the classification and research units. On April 24, 1942, the draft board granted Harold a 60-day postponement of induction so he could complete the school year at his job, and by mid-summer, Harold was preparing to enter the Army as a private. The July 16, 1942 Valley Shopper of Lockland, Ohio reported that his leave of absence was granted by St. Bernard Schools. The St. Bernard Journal followed with a report the next day. His wife Ellen was hired to replace him at the school, and on July 24, 1942 Harold reported for duty.

His first stop was Ft. McClellan, Ala. for basic training, a base located on rolling countryside halfway between Birmingham and Atlanta. The fort was established in 1917 to quickly prepare soldiers for World War I. It served the same purpose in World War II as nearly 500,000 soldiers passed through its gates headed to the European and Pacific theaters of war.

Harold’s mother Carrie wrote to him there, caught him up on events at home and asked about a potential trip to visit him in Alabama.

The draft notice Harold received while living in Cincinnati.

something to make it a little more pleasant for all of you. They tried to raise $250,000 a year or so to make conditions better for the boys in the camps. I don’t know if they succeeded in getting quite all of it or not, but they did raise a big part of it.

I am glad the food and water are good, and that the sergeant is particular.

It makes it that much more pleasant. It is hard enough, in many other ways. I hope you will be thoughtful and not be given KP so you will have a little more of your evening, if possible.

I wonder if you have a Methodist chaplain? It’s good you went to church and hope you have a nice service. Does one of the boys play the pipe organ or does the chaplain’s wife or someone like that do it?

Hope you will go to church every Sunday morning, and some other times to get all you can out of it.

Maybe you could get in the choir, or quartet. Hope so.

I am glad Ellen’s folks are with her.

I had hoped we would get down

Aug. 5, 1942 My dear Harold, Your letter came this morning. We were so glad for it. We were so anxious to know more about things and how you are.

Carl Buriff was in Mississippi around a year and told about it being so hot. And they got so dirty and had to wear their dirty clothes. I wonder if your clothes would get dry if you wash them before going to bed? Would they be dry enough to put on the next morning at 5 a.m.?

Do they furnish you writing material, or must you buy that? I am glad you don’t have to pay postage.

I am glad that the Methodist Church has done

Harold and his mother, Carrie.

3

this week, but it has been such a busy week. Right now, we have a lot of lima beans in the canner.

We hope, Ellen will spend some of her vacation with us to. I think it is the thing for her to do to quit and to go home for a while before school begins.

So many here have been asking about you, where you are, what line of work you will be in etc. They are very much interested.

I have wondered if the photography work doesn’t take you into some of the more dangerous places.

Is it where you are trying to get pictures of the enemy’s places of importance? I hope you will get something good and be as safe as possible whatever you get into.

I’ll send some cookies as soon as I have a chance to bake some. Dad and Mr. Campbell are going to Pine Ridge tomorrow morning and come back Friday. Maybe I will have a chance while he is gone.

This afternoon, the Sugar Valley Women’s Society meets and tonight Sugar Valley Booster Class (young married folk) have an ice cream social and will dedicate their new bulletin board. So, we have a full day.

Latimers’ came up on Saturday. Went, went home early Monday morning. He isn’t very well, so may come up and stay here 10 days or two weeks before school opens. Maybe you know he has a school. He seems quite pleased with it. He may have had it before you left. Don’t mention him not being well if you write to him. He hasn’t been sleeping because it was so hot. And that upset him a lot. Thelma said she thinks he overdid it when they moved last fall and hasn’t gotten over it. His heart is not very good. Thelma wants him to come up here and Dad go down there when they move. I don’t know how it will work out. I am writing this in such a hurry so Dad can mail it this afternoon.

Is there any chance to find a place to stay if you would have company down there? Do you know if there are tourist camps or any place where it would not cost too much? When Latimer was here, I said I wished we could go get Ellen and all go down to see you before leaving there because you may go farther where we wouldn’t have a chance. Everyone favored it, but of course not sure that we can, nor when, if we do, but it would have to be before school began. Or would you rather we would not?

Of course, you don’t have any idea where you will be at the end of six to eight weeks.

Lots of love, Mom

be a young woman. In just the last few days she has learned to crawl quite efficiently and to pull herself up to a standing position. She has taken a real fancy to Larry’s electric train. I think she enjoys it as much as Larry does.

Larry got your comic post card yesterday. Anything he receives from you impresses him tremendously. We were over at your place last Friday evening and saw Kathleen Bruce for the first time.

They were looking for Mr. Bruce but he didn’t show up before we left anyway.

Keep the mail coming. We like to hear from you.

We’ll try to do likewise. Fraternally, Latimer

Alabama visit, Latimer’s illness

Harold’s parents, the Rev. Frederick Obee and wife Carrie, made at least one trip to Alabama with Ellen to visit Harold while he was in basic training. In a letter to her son, Carrie described the trip south from Ohio.

Sept. 9, 1942 My dear Harold, It was so nice to see you and we were so glad to be able to make the trip. I would have written sooner but knew Ellen had written that we got home alright and what we saw so I will not say so much about those things except we did enjoy the mountains so much and very much enjoyed having Ellen with us. She is good company, very thoughtful and nice in every way. I wish you could have been with us, too, also, Latimer’s. I am going to send you a card we got from Thelma today.”

When Latimer was a junior in high school, he was diagnosed as having two heart valves that didn’t function properly, and he spent the summer before his senior year in high school in bed. He gave up the trumpet and took up the violin and attended classes in his senior year on the first floor only, as climbing stairs was beyond his ability.

As Harold entered the service, Latimer, at just 30 years old, was suffering from serious heart problems. The postcard Carrie enclosed from Thelma Obee, Latimer’s wife, described how Latimer’s health was deteriorating. At the time of this letter, Latimer, a school principal, was all set to begin a new job.

Dear folks, Just a card tonight. Latimer felt so badly all day yesterday and was swollen with water, so I called a different doctor last night. We put him to bed, but he may let him go to school for a few days to get things started if he responds to medicine and rests properly. There will have to be weeks of rest, however. He should have gone to bed some time ago, so, badly as I hate for him to have to, I have felt he could not get better until he did, so I am glad he has started the cure. He is in serious condition

A few days later, Harold’s brother Latimer wrote to him with an update on his family, daughter Kathleen and son Larry.

Aug. 12, 1942 Dear Harold, Kathleen is rapidly growing up – soon she will 4

and the doctor made it very emphatic that he must follow orders. I don’t know how we’ll manage but I suppose some way it will work out. Love, Thelma In her letter, Carrie continued: When Thelma and Latimer were here, his feet began to swell, and he was gaining weight pretty fast. He wasn’t eating so much but it must have been the water Thelma mentioned on the card. It is a dropsy condition which often comes from heart trouble and when it begins if it is not controlled it ends seriously. I hope he will respond to the medicine. I knew he was in a serious condition because the way you can see his heart beat. It is going to be bad to have to be in bed for weeks when he is just starting in a new school, and I am sure it will worry him…Latimer was very anxious to know how you were when we got home.

Lots of love, Mom

Fort Washington, where Harold attended Adjutant General school.

Latimer Obee blazed a trail that his little brother Harold dutifully followed. Latimer went to Adrian College in Michigan where many of the strongly Methodist Obees attended, and Harold went there, too. Both were editors of College World, the student newspaper. Both majored in speech and both did their graduate work at Ohio State University. Harold’s first job was at Anderson Township School, filling a vacancy left by his older brother who moved on to other employment. Clearly, the two men had a close bond and corresponded frequently. In early letters, Latimer often advised his younger brother and added words of encouragement, even as his own health deteriorated.

Adjutant General School & Camp Campbell

Meanwhile in Alabama, Harold completed basic training.

Although he doesn’t mention how he managed the appointment, his next stop in September 1942 was historic Fort Washington, Md., an Army installation that was completed in 1809 to protect the nation’s capital.

By 1939, the fort was decommissioned as a military post but was quickly pressed into action again by the Army when World War II broke out. In no time, it was transformed into the home of the Adjutant General’s School, and for four weeks Harold was one of its students. There, he learned how the Army provides personnel and administrative support to Army field commanders. The Adjutant General Corps assigns soldiers to the proper jobs and units, tracks awards and promotions and maintains personnel records. The AG Corps remains well behind the combat forces. In the Adjutant General Corps, Harold found his “safe place” to fulfill his wartime service.

His address was Barracks 123-B, Fort Washington, Md. The fort is picturesque. Historic buildings and ramparts sit on high ground overlooking the Potomac River and the Virginia shoreline. Harold attempted to rise higher in the organization by making formal application to the Adjutant General’s officer candidate school in October 1942. The

Camp Cambell, Kentucky, where Harold was stationed after Adjutant General school.

application listed his physical condition as “excellent,” but he was no heavy weight -- He was 5-10, 150 pounds.

“His cooperative attitude in working with others is outstanding and his leadership qualities have been most prominent,” wrote Capt. M.A. Hoherz. “This man has at all times proved himself to be a fine character and a thorough soldier in the performance of his duties.”

Despite this praise and other recommendations, Harold’s application for officer candidate school was denied, and later letters show he clearly was disappointed to not be chosen.

Following his training at Fort Washington, he was transferred to Camp Campbell, Kentucky. Today, Fort Campbell is a huge, well-established base, but the Camp Campbell Harold found was not yet even a year old and barely able to accommodate one armored division or the support troops assigned to it. As a member of the Adjutant General Corps, he went to work in the base office. From all accounts, he applied himself diligently, but his letters reflect a definite distaste for Army life. In the files Harold left behind were several letters returned after the war that Harold wrote to an Army buddy named George Sandel, a native of Pennsylva5

nia. In one of those letters, Harold shared how things were going.

April 1943 Dear Sandy, While that original and biggest of the jackasses (M/Sgt. Rogers) is parading up and down the center of our new AG barracks and pulling his rank, I will start this letter to you. Yesterday we moved out of the tarpaper shacks that you lived in with us while you were here. We now inhabit the regular two-story barracks up across from the AG and CG buildings. We’re crowded with double-deckers and about three feet between beds. The latrine is inside but has but six evacuation seats and a similar number of bowls for the washing of one’s face. The above-mentioned prick is barracks leader and you can imagine how! We have hope his request for a transfer (made recently) will come through quickly and we’ll at last be through with the sonofabitch.”

Camp Chaffee, Arkansas, where Harold was stationed.

His wife Ellen joined him there.

A promotion & transfer

Despite the rigors of Army life, Harold did get some good news at Camp Campbell: as of April 1, 1943, exactly a year after reporting for duty, he was promoted to sergeant.

He would stay at Camp Campbell two more months until June 1943, when he was ordered to Camp Chaffee in Fort Smith, Arkansas on the banks of the Arkansas River and the Oklahoma border.

The mission of the post was to train U.S. soldiers for combat in Europe and the Pacific, and it was there that Harold’s outfit, the Sixteenth Armored Division, was activated. The good news was that Ellen, who had taken over Harold’s teaching job in Cincinnati, was able to join Harold at Chaffee.

“Ellen quit teaching with the end of school last June and came down here where we have a modest three-room apartment. I ride back and forth the 10 miles to camp each day with other married men in the office,” Harold said.

The AG Section at Camp Chaffee. Harold is in the first row, far left. Many of these men stayed together as they moved across Europe.

May 1944 Fort Smith, Arkansas Dear George, I don’t feel inspired tonight toward a scintillating flow of good cheer, but since I write my friends every six months, I decided I had better start this one to you.

I’m still fighting the battle of Arkansas and finding it not too unpleasant. Despite the overdose of GI crap, however, I never cease very long to be deeply thankful for my very fortunate circumstances. It’s only my family ties, though, that make me thankful that I can remain in the states. I have an added incentive to remain here now in the form of a six-month-old embryonic child. I hope to be here at least long enough to listen to his or her initial wail. From all appearances, it will be a healthy one.

I doubt that this outfit ever goes into combat, but I expect to see some front before the battle is over.

Had a furlough last month, my first and only in

Newly promoted and with his wife at his side, things were starting to improve for Harold, but on July 24, 1943, Harold got tragic family news.

Just nine months after he received the post card warning of his brother’s deteriorating health, his much-loved older brother Latimer died in his sleep. He was 31 years old, and he left a wife and two children, a boy and a girl, aged two and six.

He got the call late one night from his father. The news had to be devastating, but letters left behind don’t cover what happened in the days and months after Latimer’s death. We don’t pick up the story of Harold and Ellen in Arkansas until about a year after his assignment to Chafee.

In another letter to his friend Lt. George Sandel, Harold said he was glad to still be in the United States and that he had some happy news.

6

the last nine months. Thoroughly enjoyed getting away from it all to an obscure, unsoldiered part of Ohio.

I’ve found a man who, I believe, could out pun even you. He’s a member of our holy profession and a very congenial comrade. He quotes Shakespeare or Hardy with equal glibness.

They sling field training at us here as if we were soldiers, not the chair bound AG. Through it we stagger and between trips try to do a little work at the office. The latter is a pathetic attempt at times…Write and tell me what a louse I’ve been for waiting so long to reply to your valentine. With the thick skin I now have on my ass, I can take even the sour drippings of your caustic tongue.

Sincerely, Harold

And then they were gone

As Harold continued to be engaged in the “Battle of Arkansas,” in Europe the allies were making advances.

In early 1943, the Germans surrendered at Stalingrad in the first big defeat of Hitler’s army. By May, German and Italian troops surrendered in North Africa. In July, the allies landed in Sicily and Americans captured Palermo. Capping the Italian campaign, Mussolini was arrested, and the Italian fascist government fell. The formal surrender would come three months later. By Jan 6, 1944, Soviet troops had advanced into Poland. And, of course, June 6, 1944 brought the D-Day landings on the beaches of Normandy. Slowly German troops began to retreat in the face of the advancing allied armies. In August 1944, Paris was liberated, Soviet troops took Bucharest, and the allies freed Dieppe, Rouen, Antwerp and Brussels.

Back in the states at Camp Chaffee, Harold heard the wail he had written George Sandel about. His first child, Douglas Harrington Obee, was born Sept. 1, 1944 at St. Edwards Mercy Hospital in Fort Smith, Ark. The middle name Harrington was the maiden name of Ellen’s mother, Fern. Harold would have five months with his new son and would see him celebrate his first Christmas, but on Jan. 26, 1945, Harold’s outfit left Camp Chaffee on the way to Europe. As Ellen remembered it years later, the whole unit vanished in a blink of an eye. “One day they were there.

The next, everyone was gone,” she said.

With his departure began the nearly daily habit of writing a letter to his wife. Ellen filed the correspondence in chronological order during the year Harold spent in Europe.

What follows are excerpts from those letters.

Saturday noon Jan. 27, 1945 Dearest Sweetheart, We are halted here in one of the Midwest’s metropolises to have our cars serviced. Travel has been very slow since we have had no priority. We are already hours behind schedule. We have very good accommodations, though, and can hardly find fault. The food has been OK and breakfast is

Camp Shanks on the Hudson River, known as ‘Last Stop, USA.’

late so we haven’t much complaint. It’s surprising how many fellows are on a Pullman for the first time. We are following the usual round about route.

Yesterday we got off once for a little fresh air and leg stretching. But today we’ve had to remain on board all day so far. After chow, I think I’ll take a snooze. We have plenty of reading material, daily news and magazines, games and pop, when we stop for servicing near a supply point for such things.

Before loading Thursday night, some of the lads were stinking drunk. We had been asked to save it until after we got on the train. The AG men did that to a man but many others did not. After getting on the train, we were passing a bottle around in a very quiet fashion when the CO stuck his head in, saw the bottle, said not a damn word, but grabbed it right out of our hands and left. This happened all in the flicker of an eyelash. The porter saw him throw it out the door.

Naturally, it made everyone a bit mad since we had been so cooperative and were still not raising hell. We told everyone we saw about it and the officers pitched in on him and made it clear that we were the best section he had and that we had caused him no trouble of any kind. Today he was good sport enough to buy us another bottle and gave it back to square things…Time for a little appetizer before dinner. I’ll write again after I get to the post for which we are headed.

All my love, Harold.

The post for “which he was headed” was Camp Shanks in New York State, also known as ‘Last Stop USA.’ Located where the Erie Railroad and the Hudson River meet, Shanks provided a constant flow of fresh GIs and the Hudson provided the means to get them all on troopships and headed for Europe. In all, 1.3 million service personnel including 75 percent of those participating in the D-Day 7

invasion passed through Camp Shanks. Harold and the rest of his unit arrived there on Jan. 28, 1945. Harold didn’t complain much of about conditions of the camp, but Camp Shanks reportedly was built very quickly and cheaply, and the thin walls of the barracks didn’t do much to keep out the cold New York State winter.

York City].

Received my first letters from you and one from Mom, also…She is currently concerned with my church going and tobacco habit as well as the old standby -- the evils of the army especially, and this is a slightly new note, the evils overseas. Poor soul. Little does she realize the evils at home. It is always easy to believe that about which I know nothing at all first hand. Thelma unfortunately is feeding the flame. She should have better sense.

Tues. Jan. 30, 1945 My Darling, I’ve had to hold this until we had instruction as to what we could write. The story from here on is going to have to be very meager, at least for a while.

So far, I have received no letter from you but hope to by tomorrow.

The scenery coming down here was very pretty.

Someday, we’ll drive through by car and really enjoy it. Enroute, we made a rest stop once and had a jug of cold hard cider – 2 gal – passed over a fence to us. It was excellent. 6 to 12 of the lads really put in time playing poker. Damn if I could last that long on poker even if my money did. On the train we had a short general religious service – one in each car; sang a couple of songs. Just as he left, a full Col. who was in the chaplain’s party said in a loud voice to me: “Sergeant, you have a fine bass voice there. You ought to work on it.” I was somewhat embarrassed.

Last night Joe Barrall, just as we were going to sleep, started talking out loud making pretense that he had a woman in his bed with him. It was a circus. A bit lewd, perhaps, but very entertaining…

Give Douglas a squeeze for his Dad. I’ll write again here if I can. I’ll love you always, sweetheart.

Your own, Harold.

East Coast USA Feb. 2, 1945 We have hoped for another pass so we could see New York again, but our chances are very slim.

I had hoped to see Oklahoma, but I’m afraid I’ll never make it.

Our mess hall here feeds over 5,000 men each meal within a 2-hour period. That’s not bad. There are eight serving lines. Eating out of mess gear isn’t so bad since they have three large vats of steaming water in which to dip the utensils. The water remains quite clean. In the field sometimes the GI cans of water get so dirty you hate to put your equipment into it.

Saturday night Feb. 3 1945 Received another letter from my little woman, which made it a happy day. Your letters are the things that are going to keep me going in the coming months, my dear. I will do my best by you also.

The snow here has been most satisfying. Made me think I had seen a little winter – not just cold weather. To hell with the south, I have always said.

The lads around here have a helluva time thinking of something uncensorable to write. You would be amused to see them knit their brows in an attempt to fill the space. So far, I have had no trouble.

I still have the ammunition and to spare.

Honey, today I went and did it. Yep! You should see me – not a hair over 3/8 of an inch anywhere on me. I am a beauty as you can well imagine. To be entirely truthful it isn’t as bad as I expected but then I was expecting the very worst. I did it chiefly because of cleanliness. Under the conditions wherein we live it is very difficult to keep clean.

The process is greatly simplified now. I’ll bet mother would gasp with horror were she able to see me.

You and your mother would laugh. So I guess it is well none of you can personally inspect my condition.

Sweetheart, I think of you very often and wish I could put my arms around you and Douglas and hold you tight. That is what I am going to look forward to; because you see I love you two more that anything else in the world and Honey, I always will. I’ll close now. With all my love, Harold.

East Coast USA Feb. 1, 1945 My sweetheart, It’s getting late but a light still burns in one end of the barracks, so I am sitting beneath it in my long johns writing to you. I have just had a hard day. Got to bed at 3 a.m. up at 8 a.m. Did nothing all morning but eat breakfast at the service club; stood a half hour formation in the afternoon and tonight, took a bath and did a washing of sox and underwear. I am well pooped! The evening and afternoon have been nearly beyond the extent of my stamina. The wind is blowing furiously outside.

I am glad to be inside even though the barracks is cold. This place is fortunately lacking in the usual volume of GI crap. There is no time for it usually.

We keep the barracks nearly as we wish. No spit and polish.

Saw an excellent play for nothing while on a pass from here. Jacobowsky and the Colonel. It was a very good evening’s entertainment. Not the best I have seen but far from the worst…[The play was at the Martin Beck Theater on 35th St. in New 8

The following Feb. 3, 1945 letter has the entire second paragraph cut out. He apparently was telling Ellen in some way that his departure to Europe was imminent, because the sentence following the censored portion says: If I’m not too sick, I’ll write enroute. Somehow, I have a feeling I’ll not be the sickest man on the way at least…

On the transport to Europe

When the soldiers at Camp Shanks were notified that they were on alert status, they knew they would be shipping out within 12 hours. Their helmets were chalked with a letter and a number, indicating the proper marching order from the camp to the train and the railroad car to ride in. It was a short train ride to the New Jersey docks at Weehawken, where a harbor boat ferried troops to a waiting ships. Other troops marched the four miles from the camp to the Piermont Pier, where they boarded troopships.

During the war, the pier was taken over by the U.S. government, extended and improved and used as a principal embarkation point of soldiers heading to Europe. On Feb. 4, 1945, Harold and his division boarded the transport ship USS Hermitage AP-54, a former Italian luxury liner converted to a troop transport.

As they cast off, Franklin Roosevelt, Winston Churchill and Joseph Stalin were meeting in Yalta to decide what post-war Europe would look like.

USS Hermitage AP-54, a former Italian luxury liner converted to a troop transport. This was Harold’s ride from New York to France

sure what that means but it is intended to mean the worst area in the ship. Quarters vary considerably.

We got screwed. We wash in cold saltwater, shower and shave as well. Drinking water is adequate but not plentiful. Only the cold saltwater is without restriction.

Our mess hall has tables waist high on which we put our trays and eat standing up. We do everything when it’s our turn. Smoking is permitted only on open decks and in the head.

We are all picking up a few nautical terms and feeling for our sea legs. Morale is remarkable at the moment. As soon as the novelty wears off, I fear for it. We are thrown in with a company of line troops. Some have had clashes already. These NCOs in many cases don’t treat their men like humans at all. No wonder they have had so many AWOLs in this outfit. Part of the time they have rated highest in the Div. and have never been far from the top in number of AWOLs. They try occasionally to kick us around, too. That’s where the rub comes.

The guy over me eats nuts and candy and rolls on them. A lot drop down on me, however we hear stories from the sailors and the other veterans of other voyages and realize we haven’t as bad a situation as we could. It’s just the roughest so far.

The ship rolls from side to side and from fore to aft. Quite a rhythm! The food is good and plentiful as can be seen on every deck.

Our destination is of course, a wonderful source of rumor. If we put two and two together properly it shouldn’t be too bad a deal. But then we probably have it all added up wrong. The ship’s captain told us our destination was no secret – it’s overseas!

Feb. 5, 1945 Atlantic Ocean Dearest Sweetheart, This is out at sea and so far, I can claim that seasickness is a state of mind. I may change my mind in a few days. We are making no speed trip so we will be here long enough to either get used to it or develop a lifetime’s hate for this kind of travel. Chuck has been sick as a dog all day. He skipped the morning meal entirely but tried to eat this evening. However, he was able to get only a couple of bites down. Mefford and Lichtman and Arnold have all had a hard time. I’m feeling a bit under the weather as the result of cold I developed the day before we kissed land goodbye. Just a little while ago, I dug deep into my duffel bag and pulled out a jar of Vick’s salve. I hope by tomorrow to feel better.

The ship is rolling and tossing. One can’t help wondering how many miles deep the water is. We spend as much time on deck as we can and find it not uninteresting. Any change from this hole is inviting except for the seasick who find it difficult to make the ladders. I have space 6 ft. x 2 ½ feet by 2 feet to call my own. Into that goes duffel bag, full field equipment and me. When I leave there, I go to the head (latrine) up on deck. The mess of course is another avenue of escape from the bilge. I’m not 9

Nice sense of humor, hasn’t he?

This is another day. I had to stop writing at the end of the last page because the light suddenly went out, no warning at all. That’s typical of the way these line troops operate.

Very little consideration of their men. This morning we were threatened with five days in the brig on bread and water if we didn’t quit throwing paper on the floor and if we didn’t keep the latrines cleaner the entire group would be kept below deck for the remainder of the voyage. I have an idea he’d have a hard time doing that.

I can understand now why artists have so often chosen the sea to paint. It is a most fascinating part of nature. The color changes from time to time. The main part is perhaps grey with an edge of green at the crest of a wave. Then as the wind catches the edge it blows into a fine white spray to cap the whole wave. And, as far as the eye can see, it’s the same thing. The horizon seems so close – like a big fire in the hills, just over the next one.

The men are getting used to their new routine and poker games, letter writing and singing have broken out all over the place. They print a newspaper on board giving the news of the world and the ship. It’s quite adequate – four pages, 9x12. It’s called the Scuttlebutt.

Today I went up to another compartment (these are big rooms) where they have hot, soft, fresh water and took a shower and shaved. It was a wonderful feeling. That is intended to be Jr. officer’s quarters but some of the boys were lucky enough to get them. Fortunately, they are friends of mine. The subways of New York impressed me

V-Mails are full sized letters reduced to 5 by 4 inch letter on photographic paper. It was used to reduce the volume of mail sent home from troops in Europe. The V-Mail above was written while Harold was at sea.

more than anything else. Here, it’s the hot, fresh, soft water some have that rouses my admiration and awe. The head is a refreshing thing that flushes water under you, as you sit exposed, at the rate of a gallon a minute – cold saltwater!!

It’s quite a sensation since it splashes very much like the rapids of a mountain stream.

By this time, you must be arriving in Mich. I hope the trip was as pleasant or more so than the last one we took together. Some day, I would like to make this trip with you. Whenever I find myself 10

unoccupied mentally, I always start thinking about you and Douglas and the happy months we spent together in Arkansas, good times prophetic, happier ones yet to come when this business is all terminated. I like the picture you gave me for Christmas so much. It was the best you could have thought of. Enough for tonight. This is getting to be quite a missive. I guess I’ll read for a while.

Harold Harold wrote one more time to his wife while aboard the ship, and this

letter was copied, reduced in size and sent as V-Mail (Previous page). This was the Army’s solution to handling a lot of mail quickly. Here’s how it worked: The letter writer wrote the letter on a V-Mail form, a one-sided, regular-sized piece of paper with a box on the top for the receiver’s address.

The letter was sent in, and after it was cleared by the censor, the mailroom photographed the page onto 16-mm black and white camera film. The reel of V-Mail film was then flown or shipped to a processing center in the addressee’s general location where a copy of the letter was printed onto a piece of 5” x 4” black and white photographic paper. This then was folded, slipped into an envelope and dropped into a mailbag for delivery. The V-Mail system was necessary because mail had to vie with food, fuel, ammunition and supplies for precious overseas cargo space, and V-Mail allowed thousands of letters to fly from America to Europe in the place of only a few hundred bits of regular mail. During the war over 1.5 billion V-Mail letters were processed.

In Harold’s file, another letter to friend George Sandel was saved. It is undated, but was written as Harold’s troop ship was crossing the Atlantic.

February 1945 Dear Sandy, Remember the old song, “By the sea, by the sea,” I believe it was one of Aldrich Cousins favorites.

Well, now we’re singing, “On the sea, on the sea, on the god awful sea.”

We, the final threat to be thrown at the axis, are nearing our destination. Some of the lads have been sick nearly all the way. I have been most fortunate, and never passed beyond a very slight feeling of nausea. Exactly where we will land, we do not know. Even the officers seem not to have been informed. Of course, conjecture is rampant and all kinds of inductive, deductive and other bastard types of thinking have produced a number of possibilities. We will shortly see who, if any, are correct.

The voyage has been an interesting one. For one so completely unfamiliar with ocean craft, as I, I found myself thinking hard to recall the sea lore to which I was so long ago exposed in Moby Dick, The Rover Boys at Sea, and sundry other classics of a briny taste.

If you go farther into the Pacific, your tour should not be too unpleasant, even though extended.

The Navy has given our officers very acceptable accommodations. Ours can hardly be called so. You have seen pictures of troop ships with shelves of beds jammed together several high? Well that’s us!

I thank God we can get out on the weather decks several hours a day. That makes it bearable. Food Navy style is OK except we cannot add salt to our liking, nor improve the flavor of coffee with sugar.

We eat twice a day which is enough since we do not work.

The water is most interesting. It’s so variable. I can see the fascination that has sent so many men

A funeral wagon on the streets of Le Havre, France, where the troop ship landed.

for so long down to the sea in ships. However, I am planning on neither getting a hitch in the Navy when my six years in the Army is up, nor do I contemplate becoming a member of the Merchant Marine, I’ll serve my time without too much complaint for the duration, if it isn’t too long.

And then by God, I’ll take a little home life again. I would certainly hate an occupation that took me away from my home. Young Douglas, plus, I hope someday, additional brothers and sisters, remain one of life’s most interesting aspects.

The kid will be six months old the first of next month. Time moves on. I only hope he isn’t ready for school when I get back.

Sorry your one time prediction of (censored) being overrun by September 1944 did not materialize.

It looks like spring at best. God knows how long the fools will fight.

Most of the time, your social life must help relieve the boredom. I trust you will remember your stalwart Dutch neighbors and Quaker surroundings and stick to their moral codes. Wouldn’t you like to get stuck in Hershey for a while? I mean Pennsylvania, not chocolate. Hope your leave goes through, but I won’t be there to greet you.

Sincerely, Harold.

On Feb. 16, 1945, Harold and the USS Hermitage docked in Le Havre, France, a deep-water port just north of the Normandy beaches. Le Havre was heavily bombed during the invasion and histories put the number of people killed in Le Havre at 5,000 and the number of homes destroyed at 12,000. So, when Harold stepped off the boat the scene in front of him was one of devastation.

He stopped and snapped a picture of a horse drawn hearse parked on a side street and within two days, he found himself two hours inland.

A division newsletter written after the war said the division camped near Forges Les Eaux, northeast of Rouen.

Perhaps that was the location for his next two letters.

11

Feb. 21, 1945 Sweetheart, Well, here we are in France, as we thought that was possible. We are located on a farm near a chateau to which we have had access.

It is a beautiful place situated in fine French farming country. We are billeted in the loft of a building where we sleep on straw in sleeping bags. It is not too cold, but so damp that it goes right through us at night. The people here are very friendly. Please see if you can get me a box of cigars and send it over. Supply here is very limited.

The next day Harold got a chance to look around. To say he was a keen observer is very much an understatement. He approached his explorations of the French countryside like an anthropologist documenting living conditions and social customs.

France Feb. 22, 1944 My Darling, Here I sit in our hayloft under a gasoline lamp and a sharply sloping roof. Took a short walk this evening out along the countryside. Wanted to take a good look at the place since tomorrow we move to a nearby town – too crowded here.

The country is beautiful, narrow winding roads, long hedgerows and brick houses and green grass.

It is not so cold but that they are doing winter plowing and early planting. I have even seen cabbage plants set out. Presumably the seasons are comparable to ours or just a little milder.

The houses are almost entirely brick or stone with mud or concrete used as filler or for small sections. A wooden house is very unusual. The roofs are mostly slate, many tile and some straw thatch.

The latter are no more than six inches thick, yet I guess they do not leak, or if they do, they patch them as can sometimes be plainly seen. Houses are sometimes continuous buildings with the barn and are frequently arranged in a square. It gives a courtyard effect. Kitchens have stone floors, but I know nothing about other rooms. The roofs are all of a very small angle which make them high and peaked.

There seems to be no lack of metal; oftentimes, it is brass. They have electric lights in their houses and barns but rarely use them in the latter and not more than one at a time in the house. Most cannot afford to burn more.

The French are very neat and industrious, hence, although labor is insufficient, everything has a fairly well-groomed appearance. The brick houses require less maintenance than wooden, hence last longer and look better kept. Wood only can be burned since coal is required for industry. Yet, they are very saving with it. I doubt if more than a room

A government travel voucher for the train trip from Fort Smith, Arkansas to Adrian, Michigan. Ellen and baby Douglas went back to Ellen’s family farm, where they would spend the remainder of the war.

or two is heated in their homes.

They have a zinc topped table and porcelain sink in one house I have seen. It is a prosperous farm, however. I understand that the family had an auto before the Germans occupied and in order to save it, took it apart and buried the pieces and hid them in the buildings. When they departed the car was reassembled and is now running. The chateau of which I spoke has all modern conveniences, tile baths, large glass windows and all the accoutrements of a wealthy home in the states. The grounds are extensive and strictly on a playboy level – no farm this. Their horses didn’t do any plowing.

I hope you didn’t carry an alarm clock wrapped in a Kleenex on your train trip. If you did, I should be disappointed in you. I hope you had no difficulties. Should have a letter from you soon reporting on that trip. Got a letter from Mom today dated the 6th. Our mail should speed up once we are better established. I am anxious to see the pictures of Douglas. If he likes to chew on shoes, I’ll send him one of my boots. That ought to hold him for a month or two. Give him a hug for me and tell him to keep on being a good boy.

I could really use your knowledge of French now.

I can reel off a few phrases and come closer to pronouncing them than the average, but I certainly know very little of what Hope tried to teach me. If you would cut your hair short and flatten your chest a little maybe I could get you a job as interpreter for the Gen. He needs a bright boy around who can speak both fluently.

Get those teachers’ salaries up and maybe I’ll return to “my profession.” I like to see that kind of 12

publicity. The day may come when teacher salaries will be on a civil service level. I hope so.

The C ration has been improved lately. Occasionally, (when we have them) we get the new pack which has a white cracker much lighter in weight.

It is very edible. Our food is varied in type but not in menu. Sometimes C, occasionally K, and sometimes fresh or regular chow. We get tired of the C very easily, but we don’t starve on any of it.

It’s getting colder than hell in this place. My feet are like ice and I’m going to have to go to bed to get comfortable…Sweetheart, I’d like to snuggle up close to you tonight and hold you tight, but since I can’t I’ll just go to sleep and dream about it.

You see I love you as much as ever and that is a lot.

Here’s my every bit of my love for you and Doug.

Harold

The hotel in Lyons la Foret that served as headquarters for Harold’s unit after landing in France.

With Harold in Europe and a new baby on her lap, Ellen prepared to return to the Michigan farm of her parents where she would spend the remainder of the war. On Feb. 23, 1945 she received a voucher for transportation from Fort Smith, Ark. to Adrian, Mich. That same day, Harold moved to the town of Lyons la Foret, a small picturesque Norman village deep in the heart of the Forêt de Lyons, the largest beech forest in Europe. His unit occupied an inn that dated to 1610. His second-floor window was directly above the front door and looked out on a narrow street that led to a town square where a medieval market shelter provided a place for community gatherings.

Lyons la Foret, France Feb. 25, 1945 Sweetheart, I’ve skipped a day since writing you so here goes for another long one. It’s amazing how much time it takes to care for yourself when you do not have all the conveniences.

Yesterday evening, I got wood for our fire, coaxed it along, carried water, dug clean clothes out of the duffel bag, took a bath (sponge) and went to bed after reading a little of the Stars and Stripes (it’s our daily paper). It was my first bath since leaving the ship. Put on clean clothes too, the first complete change since leaving home garrisons.

Our firewood is scarce and must be obtained laboriously or furtively — either takes time. We are now happily situated in a town and have one floor of a tourist hotel to ourselves. It’s a good deal. Definitely better than our hayloft. We have fireplaces or stoves in most rooms and therein lies a story. The room in which Harry is located had no fireplace so rigged up a stove. They had no chimney, so they ran the pipe through a hole chopped through the wall by the Bosch. That is characteristic of the buildings they have inhabited. The boys did not know a studding and joist ran very close to that pipe. About midnight, fire was discovered

The same hotel where Harold stayed as it looks today.

It’s old, stone facade has been covered with a faux timbered look.

A postcard showing Lyons la Foret as it looked before World War II.

13

which burned out the corner of 4 rooms. Today we nearly lost the privilege of having any fires. I parked on the CO’s doorstep so long he finally gave in and approved such fires as were safe if we’d post a fire guard all night. We’re willing to do that so we can take the dampness out of the rooms and get clothing we wash to dry out. The atmosphere is so damn wet! Heavy fog and mist hang over us 95 percent of the time.

We have electric lights, French style, which means weak. Their lights have a socket similar to auto light bulbs so I could not screw in my plug for my razor. I finally found one porcelain plug (French style) and put it on my cord. Now I can shave once more with my electric razor. My neck was beginning to get sore, so I was glad for the change back.

The hotel is a mess. It will require extensive building repairs, complete refurnishing and redecoration before it could ever be used again. It is typical of the buildings used by the Germans.

It has been unoccupied since their departure until now. The owner lives in two rooms here. What he has been living on I have no idea. There are dozens of houses in town like this building. Our office is located in one. When we move into such and such a place, we go from cellar to garret to find anything we can to set us up in satisfactory manner — tables, beds, pails, firewood, etc. Shobert brought a radio so we are listening to a German broadcast.

They have excellent music. We had church services today at 1400. It is amazing how many guys will go to church rather than work at the office on a Sunday. We eat out of mess kits in the dining room here. We have had pork chops and lots of butter and cauliflower for fresh food plus a nice variety of canned. We are amazed at the quantity and quality of food. Our C rations are used only until a permanent mess can be established. It’s almost like being in garrison.

Most of the floors here are wooden but some are tile. The ones I described before were farmhouses.

I’ll report on the village houses as I observe more.

There are a lot of French people in town. Everyone appears friendly. The children all flock around us yelling, “Candy, gum, please!”

By the way I would not suggest you read these letters aloud until perusal of their contents first privately. I may regale you with stories occasionally that you might not wish to pass on. I have one or two I am saving for a later date.

The central square market in Lyons la Foret during the war. This is where community celebrations happened and where farmers sold their produce.

The well-preserved central square market building in Lyons la Foret as it looks today.

some other foolish idea. I am unable to save your letters Sweetheart — can’t carry too much around and it has too much unit identification on them to please the military intelligence, but they can’t stop me from carrying around an enormous amount of love for you and D.H. so here it is.

Harold Feb. 26, 1945 My darling, Just finished writing Don [Ellen’s brother Don Bruce] a letter. I’d be willing to bet he’s within 100 k of me but so far, I have been unable to discover anything about his outfit. Sooner or later it is sure to be published in Stars and Stripes.

Wonders will never cease — today they went to work and repaired our plumbing system so now we have running cold water and a wash bowl which drains. We expect maid service next or orders to move. Probably the former.

Ellen apparently had written to Harold to tell him she intended to save all the letters he was writing home, and here he mentions them.

Your file of letters sounds as if you are figuring on setting up a library or publishing my letters or 14

This evening the band played a short concert on the village square. The townsfolk gathered from up and down the street and clapped enthusiastically. The boys played both national anthems, which were honored by French and Americans alike.

At night you’d think the town deserted except for the military. Most houses are completely shuttered, and they close them up tight. Bread is the staple item and the only thing they come close to having plenty of. Cider is fairly plentiful. Costs 25 Francs a quart. Wine is 250 Francs a quart. The farmers are definitely better off but are not allowed to kill fowl or animals except with permission.

Milk is for babies only.

It’s a picturesque sight to see a young woman or old man trudging down the street with an unwrapped loaf of bread about the size of your arm — 2 ½ feet long and the size of your forearm. The old ladies have a satchel or big pocketbook, which they carry downtown. The long loaves of bread run through the top and out each end about eight inches. None of it is ever wrapped. The bread we get is not like what we get in the states. It is much more like home-made bread. More body to it. We eat 2 huge slabs a meal and gripe when we only get one.

Food and letters. Food and letters. These are constant subjects of some attention. Harold always relates which letters he has received and when they were dated with the efficiency of a quartermaster clerk keeping track of inventory.

As for food, he’s either reporting on it or wishing for it.

On March 1, 1945, he wrote:

The Beech forest that surrounds Lyons la Foret.

tier in the summer.

Also, the roads all wind through them.

No straight roads here! This part of France is certainly beautiful. Grass is green; saw some mistletoe with berries; pussy willows and some flowers are already out. Now I am out of space, but, Honey, I’m never out of love for you!

Harold

For my birthday please send me some cheese and luncheon sausage, one of those small round loafs you can slice, OK? His letters say very little about his military work, undoubtedly so as not to run afoul of the censors, but occasionally he will say he is cracking the whip on the office staff, mainly so he can have time to write a couple of letters, get cleaned up and get to bed at a reasonable hour.

Otherwise, he seems to be enjoying the French countryside and its people.

March 5, 1945 We took a hike today — didn’t hurt me but it informed me my feet are very tender. We took a route which went through the forest most of the way. Most woodland is so clean it looks like a park.

And it is filled with great tall straight trees, which have almost no branches at all for 50 feet. I have been unable to decide whether it is the kind of tree, the closeness with which they are planted or that branches are cut off when the tree is young. Branch scars are not conspicuous by their presence. The forest is really magnificent and must be all the pret-

March 7, 1945 My honeybun, ‘Tis Saturday night and I can think of much better places to Taking a road through the forest. spend it but having no choice it was spent wandering through the interesting village of (Censored) past the old (Censored) and the (Censored) and down along the stream in the valley finally ending up in the café of a nearby hotel which has no business except a tub and hot water for a bath; 15

and at the nominal sum of 25 Francs. As you will recall, that’s about 50 cents.

The bathtub at our disposal here does not have hot water. Tomorrow they are all running vehicles to a shower bath unit about 14 miles from here which accommodates over 1,000 men a day. I’ll probably avail myself of neither local nor distant facilities just described but take an old spit bath in the seclusion of our own room on the second floor just across from the house of Mme. (Censored) who can surely see through our uncurtained window. The French, by the way, (Hope may have told you this) are not at all sensitive about bodily exposure. They have urinals right along the sidewalk in towns and if none are available, men and boys occasionally avail themselves of the curb or some corner. In Paris, even, I understand such things occur.

But to get back to my Saturday night, Tom, Padilla and I wound up in a café where we wined and cidered for a little while. Both were too sour to suit me. Then we came back to our hotel and dragged out a No. 10 can of peanut butter and a loaf of bread and proceeded to fill our gullets. The source of such edibles is not for official communication at this time. Some of the boys found a waffle iron in the attic consisting of two long handles which work like pincers. On the pincer end are two flat waffle irons about 4 inches by 6 inches wide that go together as the handles are compressed. This is put in the fire and so, with waffled grid, we had toasted peanut butter sandwiches with butter spread on top as they came out of the fire. Now I am ready to go to bed.

Tomorrow we will attend church at 0900, work a couple hours and have the afternoon off. We are taking time off while we can. Tomorrow I hope to catch up on my correspondences. I believe I have told you of the town crier. He has a uniform and a drum with which he wanders through town. Every block or so he beats his drum a few seconds, then pauses and reads from a piece of paper. At the end of the announcement, he hits the drum twice and takes off down the street. Quite picturesque. Today I hit the jackpot on speed – a V mail from you in only 22 days. What extraordinary carrier service they must have... I’ll bet I could run home in less than 22 days if I were given a chance right now, because you see I have a wife and baby that are far above the average run of such interests. I wish I could hold both of them in my arms right now, but I can’t so I’ll have to tell you I love you very, very much and save the squeeze for the latter. HO.

Bonnie and Doug on the farmhouse porch in Michigan.

Ellen and her sister Kathleen with the babies behind the farmhouse in Michigan.

can get down soon and find out for sure if it is getting along OK. Maybe Larry won’t get the scarlet fever. I’m sorry I cannot claim to have my correspondence caught up. I was on guard last night and I am now attending a choir practice every week and singing twice on Sunday, so my free time is further limited.

Your letter was very interesting telling of Doug and Bonnie as well as other members of the family.

In the states it was a court martial offense to read personal mail in the office. Here everything stops completely as everyone slowly peruses his mail from end to end and back again. I now have Armstrong in my section for which I am very happy.

Needed one more man under the set up here and he was my choice. Doug should be taking his afternoon nap now and I am going to turn in for mine.

As usual – all my love, HO.

March 8, 1945 Today I got your letter of the 26th telling of Mom breaking her arm. I have not received her letter yet in reference to it. I hope it knits OK and that you

March 14, 1945 My Dear, Today held a bit of excitement here. Getz and Haney are in a room right over the kitchen. They 16

used some gasoline to clean their field jackets and then poured it down the sink. The drainpipe flows into a spot which drains the sink in the kitchen only a few inches away. The main drainpipe flows into an 80-foot cesspool nearby. The cesspool is covered with a huge slab of concrete probably weighing over 500 pounds. In this slab is a manhole cover.

Fumes from the drain spread through the pipe into the kitchen and was ignited by the open flame of a nearby gasoline stove. The explosion carried down through the main pipe into the cesspool and ignited all the sewer gases there. Result – Concrete slab was blown a couple feet into the air and broke to pieces when it landed. The manhole cover flew up about 6 ft. Final result – boys received horrible chewings out from 2 majors and may have to pay the damages. Poor Bill – he has really been low over it although he tries to hide it. First Harry tries to burn the place down; then these guys try to blow it up. The question is, what will happen next?

Officers get a regular liquor ration for good stuff and in adequate quantities for their proper needs.

The enlisted men of course gripe about the discrimination and try to find a method to effect a deal.

They say where there’s a will there’s a way!!

Last evening, I did not write a letter and for no reason at all. Spent the entire time in a manner reminiscent of college days. Just bulled away the evening. First time I have spent a whole evening that way in quite a while.

A cart designed for a heavy load with the old wooden wheels.

March 15, 1945 My Dear, Here goes a letter before I go to the GI cinema, which is starring The Merry Monohans. We have weekly shows, most of which are quite old, some of which are 3rd rate but all or which are entertainment and time consuming, if that is what you want. This one promises to be Horse drawn cart in Lyons la better than usual, Foret, this one equipped with so Tom and I are rubber wheels. going to the 2nd showing.

Today’s mail was again excellent…Mom’s letter related the details of her accident [broken arm] so now I know she had no intention of leaving me uninformed. She said that she has been having rheumatism and thought that caused the fall. She hates to be bothered with a broken arm since people make such a fuss about it and it limits what she can do. She says it makes her nervous to sit around and do nothing. What a woman! The folks are looking forward to you going down there.

Yesterday we took a hike and paused for a break by some ancient ruins of which France is full.

They more than anything else are beginning to convince me that we are indeed overseas and in the old world. Steinman and I wandered off to inspect them from every angle and returned to find the

In addition to Harold, Ellen’s brothers Robert and Don also were serving in the armed services – Robert was a pilot in the Pacific and Don in the Army in Europe. Back home in Michigan, Ellen, sister Kathleen, and sister in law Phyllis Bruce busied themselves hand copying letters they received to send out to the boys.

Thank you very much for all the work in copying those letters honey. I know it is an extremely tedious job. I, of course, enjoy reading them. It is surprising how few fellows ever knew of any family doing such a thing. To me of course it seems very common.

Old Doug came through with flying colors on his weight at 6 months. He doesn’t have that stalwart build for nothing. He’s liable to be as good a man as his Dad, someday, particularly if his Dad has to stay in this damn army too long. If it doesn’t ruin my health, it is sure to my disposition and what meager abilities I had when I came in.

This is enough writing for tonight. It’s 2200 and time to be in the bed. I miss you and Doug a great deal, but I have your pictures and the letters have been coming through frequently. That’s wonderful.

All my love, Harold.

17

company gone, so we had to figure out how to get back to town. We followed road signs and investigated everything we were close to.

We arrived back late for chow we thought and were surprised as all hell to find the company was not back yet. They dragged in half an hour later. We came home the right way and they got lost and Harold at L’Abbaye de Mortemer walked three miles more than we.

Honey, I must get to bed. You must just now be putting old D to bed, so I’ll imagine I am right there to help and to both of you, all my love and good night. Harold.

March 18, 1945 My Dear, One of my most enjoyable days since coming overseas has just about ended. Today was bright and sunny and shirtsleeves. Went to church at 0900 went back to the office and worked for a little over an hour and then headed for chow. The meal was chicken and I wished mightily for you Honey.

You see I had two wings and I would have gladly given them to you in exchange for what you had.

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason I wished for you.

The afternoon we had off so several of us pooled our laundry and boiled it in a big vat outside and hung it on the line. The laundry only took us a little while and then we went for a busman’s holiday and hiked seven or eight miles round trip to see some ruins of France. After due sightseeing and picture taking and fooling around, we proceeded to return.

Oh Yes! We were Grove, Steinman, Rudy and myself. The latter was not the one you know.

On our way out we passed a place where they were making calvados. It is distilled from cider and is reportedly a potent mixture. The guy had a whole milk bucket full in front of us, of course we wouldn’t have any since regulations say we cannot purchase any. On our return we answered the hail of a GI from a nearby house and discovered him partaking of the hospitality of a farmer. We were lined up and in order of standing and also partook.

We started to leave saying Merci Beaucoup, but he would have nothing of the sort. We had to line up again. Once more we merci-ed all over the place and started out once more. But it was no use. This

The ruins Harold visited were L’Abbaye de Mortemer, a former monastery near Lyons-la-Forêt. It was originally built in 1134 on land presented as a gift to the monks

by Henry I of England. The stagnant water of the drainage lake, dug out by the monks to dry up the marshy land, was called the “dead pond” - in French “morte mare” - and gave the monastery its name.

was repeated for six times before we got out of the door and then twice he dragged us in from the yard to line up all over again. Finally, we just bolted to get away from him.

He, by the way, was a Polish refugee who had come to France six years ago.

We arrived back late for chow and The AG boys check out a calhad to tell a long vados still. tale about working late at the office or we would have had nothing to eat. If we were just late, not a bite! You see the wrong cook was on duty.

I am sleepy now as can be and must take a bath so good night, honey. I miss you a great deal! If 18

this was only a peacetime town and you and Doug were along, I’d be completely happy. I miss him too, as you well know, so give him a squeeze for me, and Doug, give your Mommy a squeeze for me. Your own, Harold.

make. We can’t sit here forever. Since vehicles were not available, a similar amount of floor space was roped off on the ground and we piled all our boxes and equipment into those imaginary vehicles then “climbed” in and sat down to see if we fitted. Then awaited the Col. who was inspecting. Most of the day was wasted in preparation and followup, the latter Harold helps load pretend trucks. being to carry everything back to its original place. Yes, it was a mite ridiculous.

The reason I did not write the night before last was my status as a casualty of the volleyball game. I had an arm flail me in one eye and a ball hit me soundly in the other.

My glasses were somewhat bent up and my eyebrow is still sore. I bent the GI glasses back into shape again like I used to when I was The AG boys climbed in to see if they fit. a kid and they are now OK. Today I drew a complete cigar ration for the first time – bought 10 cigars. They are very cheap ones this week but are much better than none at all.

I would be very happy if you were to send me a box of cigars just any time.

Now my dear, I am going to bed and will write again tomorrow. Hope I have a letter, because, you see I love you very much.

Harold

Patton charges into Germany

On March 19, 1945 General Dwight D. Eisenhower gave George Patton the go-ahead for an assault crossing of the Rhine as soon as possible. Harold’s armored division was part of Patton’s Third Army, and so the orders that they would soon be on the move were handed down. As soon as Patton had received the orders to make a crossing, he began sending assault boats, bridging equipment, and other supplies forward. Seeing this equipment moving up, his frontline soldiers needed no orders from higher headquarters to tell them what it meant.

The most obvious place to jump the river was at Mainz.

However, Patton decided to feint at Mainz while making his real effort at Nierstein and Oppenheim, 9 to 10 miles south of the city.

On March 22, with a bright moon lighting the late-night sky, the Third Army began its Rhine crossing. At Nierstein assault troops met no resistance. As the first boats reached the east bank, seven startled Germans surrendered and then paddled themselves unescorted to the west bank to be placed in custody. Upstream at Oppenheim, however, the first wave of boats was halfway across when the Germans began pouring machine-gun fire into their midst. An intense exchange of fire lasted for about 30 minutes as assault boats kept pushing across the river.

Finally the Germans surrendered, and by mid-afternoon on March 23, all three regiments of the 5th Infantry Division were in the bridgehead, and an attached regiment from the 90th Infantry Division was crossing. Tanks and tank destroyers had been ferried across all morning, and by evening a treadway bridge was open to traffic.

As the Army prepared to move, Harold’s unit was ordered to start practicing to pack up and get on the road. The only problem? They had no trucks to load. But that didn’t stop the boys from practicing.

March 25, 1945 My Dear, Yesterday morning per a new directive, we started policing the street of this town between our hotel and the office. The lads spread out to cover the area and were observed by a group of women waiting for the butcher shop to open. Others in surrounding houses observed and when they discovered what was being done, were all highly amused.

Everyone was griped because they had to police the streets of the town and that made them mad and some, embarrassed. When the Col. heard of it, he said we were not to do it anymore.

This afternoon we had a dry run on loading our equipment into trucks. It was in preparation for a move which we will undoubtedly eventually

In the early morning hours of March 25, elements of the 87th Infantry Division crossed the Rhine to the north at Boppard, and then some 24 hours later, elements of the 89th Infantry Division crossed eight miles south of Boppard at St. Goar.

Presumably, Harold knew of the bold advances, but 19

his letters, eyed carefully by the censors, didn’t talk about wartime events. Instead, he talked about letters he was receiving, food he was eating and what he was observing in France.

size to house our sections at last so we can perhaps all work at once if we have to resort to tents. On maneuvers, you may remember, if it rained at least half the time, the men had to go to their tents. Now perhaps, we can operate OK. In the European Theater of Operations, when someone acquires anything, you say in surprise, “Where’d you get that?”

And always the answer is the same. “Oh, we got it!” Everyone keeps quiet as to their methods, but all the inequalities of material, authorizations and shortages are in time made up by some mysterious means.

No mail today for anyone. Betting on the mail situation has more uncertainties than horse racing or the stock market.

I’ll bet Patton’s army is getting poor mail service. Today’s news has him racing across Germany too fast for any mail trucks to keep pace. From what I have observed, the Krauts must have vacated France very fast. There is quite a bit of excellent cattle and horses left. Some farmer’s have 2 to 4 teams of horses and 30 to 50 head of cattle.

Now I am going to take a bath and practice dreaming about my sweetheart and my son – as if I needed any practice. Hell, I do it all the time! HO

March 25, 1945 Received a letter from Don [Ellen’s brother] today telling of being in Luxembourg and Germany and sleeping in bunk beds. I am fairly sure I know where his outfit was when we landed but they had moved up before I could verify it. I’ll see the lad yet if I have half a chance. He seemed in good spirits. I will answer him soon.

I have been in Le Havre three times although we are not particularly close to it. On the last trip, I met a Lt. Col who was the one who interviewed me at McClelland in reference to attendance at AG school back in 1942.

I hope the mashed potatoes you give Douglas have all the lumps out instead of being like the ones I have available daily. The woods and field flowers are coming out now and make it very pretty. I hope to see this area sometime when it is in full leaf. And now with a pun, I leaf you as ever, your most devoted husband (I hope).

Harold.

March 26, 1945 Don’t believe I told you that when troops move in France by rail, they sometimes have chair cars but more often ride in box cars which are labeled on the outside as to volume – “8 horses or 40 men.”

The rails are standard width and the locomotives not too ancient in appearance. I presume their best rolling stock was taken out of the country during German withdrawal.

Honey, I wish I could say goodnight to you and have you in the same room with me, but I guess I can’t tonight so as always, I’ll love you with all my might from here and so to bed. Your own, Harold

March 29, 1945 I’m sitting in the orderly room writing since I am on guard and duty requires my presence in the vicinity. If my officer of the guard turns out to be a good guy, I will get eight hours of sleep. If he is not, I will get any amount down to an hour or so.

Prospects are fairly good, I think.

Everyone is in very high spirits tonight. We had a helluva big mail and I know of no one who was skipped. I received 5: two from my honey, two from mom and one from uncle Ernest. Mom was very sorry about not meeting you on time in Prospect and about not being able to get the bathroom fixed before you arrived. Her report on Douglas is of course all good. The folks I know are very glad to have you both there. It does them a lot of good in many ways. I hope you stay long enough to satisfy them, partially anyway. I know you couldn’t completely unless it was a permanent residence.

You seem to spend much of your time dodging carriers of children’s diseases. At Doug’s present age, I agree. When he gets a little older and has more stamina and can tell you how he feels, it won’t be so important. We are subject to all kinds of afflictions here since France is so unsanitary. For that reason, we eat no French food unless invited out by local people to dinner. I have not been, but several have.

Honey, your reports of Doug flirting remind me a bit of Thelma’s stories of K’s affinity for men.

Wasn’t that one of the things you weren’t going to

March 27, 1945 This is the end of another day, not one without accomplishment, however. The stove, which we have in our room in lieu of a fireplace, which does not work, is a demon for smoke which insists in pouring out of cracks in the stove rather than up the chimney. Today, I built a fire, using a new technique which practically eliminated all smoke which has always been most persistent in the earlier part of the evening while the fire was starting. The wood is green and hence a bit hard to start, but less smoke in the room results if plenty of paper is fed in from the bottom fueling door until the wood is all ablaze. The other system involves less paper and more use of the bellows to get a good blaze started.

We have managed to acquire a tent of sufficient 20

do?

Just now, water has started dripping down through the ceiling of the room here. The damn plumbing system is out of order again. It happens twice a week somewhere in the building and every third night the lights go off due to one reason or another. They certainly are not in good condition, these utilities.

Just returned from an inspection of the guard. All was in order.

In case I haven’t mentioned it, you needn’t bother telling me who censors the mail any more. I usually know it is always one of our own section officers.

Well darling, I am sleepy as can be and must get up very early at 0400 or sooner. Have to dispatch some transportation at that hour to pick up a colonel. What a life. I hope one of my guards doesn’t forget to waken me or I may be stripeless. Sleepy or wide awake, with or without stripes, hungry or full, none make any difference in my love for you.

Give our boy a squeeze for me and tell him his Dad thinks he’s the best kid in the world. All my love, Harold On April 1, 1945 - U.S. troops encircled German troops in the Ruhr Valley in Germany. For all intents and purposes, it marked the end of major organized resistance on Nazi Germany’s Western Front, as more than 300,000 troops were taken prisoner.

While Harold’s letters have occasional references to getting ready to go someplace, on April 8, 1945, he was still sitting pretty at Lyons la Foret in France.

consider it a particularly permanent place to live.

How much are you hoping to plunk away each month on an average? I hope to save some of what I now get over the pay table.

My largest expense at the moment is laundry and PX. The liquor and wine are not sufficiently inviting to commandeer very much dough and the PX asks only about the same so unless I make a trip to some city and buy something to send home, I have most of my pay left. Time for chow now. I’ll finish this after church.

Off to Germany

The next week passed uneventfully, at least according to Harold’s letters. He occasionally refers to “official duties,” and is performing guard duty and writing letters. He talks endlessly about the food he is eating and confides he has plenty of corned beef, the source of which will remain secret.

Outside his relatively quiet life in France, however, the world was full of tumultuous news. On April 12, 1945, the allies liberated Buchenwald and Belsen concentration camps and news of Nazi atrocities were at last undeniable.

On April 16, Soviet troops began their final attack on Berlin and President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, who had been ailing for some time, died. Harry Truman was sworn in as President.

Then, on April 18, 1945, Harold’s unit packed up and left Lyons la Foret. According to notes in his file, Harold and his outfit entered Germany on April 19. On April 21, they arrived at Mainz, Germany. A V-mail a few days later broke the news.

April 8, 1945 Well my dear, another Sunday is waning, and life goes on pretty much as usual: church this morning, an hour and a half of work, and the afternoon off in which to relax. The quiet little town has much the same atmosphere as the campus of old Adrian on such a day.

I have been trying to get Tom moving rapidly enough so that he and I could get in a stroll this afternoon, but he fussed around with heating water, bathing and washing out a couple pieces of clothing until it is now an hour until chow. Therefore, I am writing to you now and we will take off after chow until church time. Have to go tonight because Haney and I sing a duet on the chorus of a choir number.

Harold apparently included a picture of a house in this letter and discussed modifications he might make. That led to a discussion of what he would do when he got home from Europe.

April 21, 1945 Dear Ellen, It has been several days since I had an opportunity to write to you. I have visited several cities of reputation and covered many miles. Saw the famous cathedral at Reims, only from a distance, however, to my sorrow. Was in Soissons and found it to be much different from Rouen and Le Havre.

It is much more American in appearance.

This evening I am CQ [Charge of Quarters, a guard at the barracks entrance]. Might as well be since I had to work late anyway and sleeping here on the floor is better that sleeping on the ground, which is what our billet is now. Tomorrow, I will try to get a long letter off, but I can make no promises. Very rapid events sometimes transpire which make prior planning of little avail. All my love, Harold.

April 23, 1945 My Darling, I have a lot to tell you to bring you up to date on my activities and observations, but it is already late, and I’m anxious to get to bed.

We are now located in a large German home

Regardless of where we settle for the first year after I get out of this man’s army, I hope to be able to start buying a house even though we might not 21

whose landlord is a Nazi officer. We sleep outside, however, and I have found my canvas cover very valuable. Tom and I are together in one tent, we are eating A rations again which always helps me. Those Cs really blow me up. Made a trip to Army HQ and was able to see more of the devastation wrought by the war. After what was done to the French cities, I am not too unhappy to see these German centers leveled.

Civilians are filtering back into the allied occupied area. We saw and see large numbers of French and Russian refugees and slave laborers being returned to their countries, or at least on their way. The slave labor goes by the truckload and is invariably waving and shouting happily.

The refugees line the sides of the roads with hand-drawn or horse-drawn wagons with all their possession piled thereon and the very old and young atop the load. It’s a pathetic sight.

They certainly do not look very happy.

Was in Saarbrucken and Metz. The former particularly is laid low. I have been on streets in some cities where, as far as you could see in all directions, was a mass of wreckage. Bulldozers have cleared two lanes of traffic through the streets and the stones are piled up to form a sort of retaining wall. Most areas have people living in basements, and parts of buildings not damaged beyond usefulness at least to the extent of 1 room. And then, of course, some houses are untouched.

Harold comments on how the mail has stacked up in some places and that only a trickle is getting through.

He said he hopes to get photos of young Douglas soon.

He also talks of Ellen’s brother Don, who is also in Europe.

Convoy on the road through Germany enroute to Czechoslovakia.

Headquarters at Mainz, the home of a Nazi officer.

filled without cost. Some barrels have been broken open by departing troops of the Reich and the liquid stands 18 inches deep in the cellar.

The boys climb in over old barrels and fill our water cans. It is tested by the medics before we are issued any.

Some of the sections have just returned from a dump nearby where bayonets, field glasses, swords, guns and pistols are collected, all captured materiel. They have brought back trophies for all and I now have a bayonet and a short sword. Of course, they are a dime a dozen but due to the fact that it is our first haul we will take anything. It’s the frontline troops that get the good souvenirs. Don should have some prized items before he is through.

All is peaceful and quiet, and we are quite comfortable. It is tragic that this same territory we occupy so unchallenged was not too long ago purchased with the loss of so many lives.

The chateau where we were first located was a huge affair of three stories, with an enormous Cellarium on the front, lake nearby with

I thought I was hot on the trail of Don recently but he’s like a fire over the hill. It always seems so close until you get to the hilltop to then see its not there after all but far away. He keeps always just beyond my grasp.

April 27, 1945 Sweetheart, Haven’t written for two days. Should have composed one last night but didn’t get around to it what with a song fest, trouble in shaving (hot water) and a bull session in which I became involved. All was tinted with a rosy hue since the old Rhineland wine flows more freely here now than water. Tonight, they had 200 gallons of wine at the mess hall and not enough water to make coffee. The wine is the most potent I have ever tasted. In the nearby city, there are huge wine cellars with enormous hogsheads of the drink from which five-gallon water cans are 22

bathhouse and carriage house with a shooting gallery and aquarium house. Everywhere were to be seen dashing pictures of nude people and sensuality. The Kraut emotions were definitely lewd and passionate. Even here in the house of cultured people, there are some pictures denoting their relatively uninhibited natures. The chateau was occupied by German troops for some time. The owner was an American and had his interests protected somewhat by the French caretaker.

On April 29, Harold’s outfit left Mainz, Germany enroute to Nurnberg, Germany, where they arrived on April 30.

April 30, 1945 My Sweetheart, It has been two nights since I wrote you. They decided to put us in a different building. Now we are located in a partially bombed building which was once used by the Nazi government.

I have never seen so many rubber stamps in my life. There are all kinds of office equipment here, typewriters, lamps and everything. This land of the krauts is certainly a rich one. They have not wanted for very much if we may judge by their physical appearance, clothing and facilities.

Right now there are 12 pounds of explosive lying in this room. It is one of the most sensitive of the Kraut’s tank piercing projectiles. It is somewhat similar to a bazooka. Since the building is occupied by allied troops for the first time it was never discovered or removed before. Tomorrow an ordnance man will be over to remove it. It is perfectly safe as long as we don’t touch it. And Honey, you can bet on this, it won’t even be breathed on. Good night and don’t forget, I love you. Harold

The boys pick up some souvenirs of war.

The convoy approaches Aschaffenburg, Germany as the Third Reich collapses.

A flyer German soldiers could use to surrender.

23

24

May 2, 1945 My sweetheart, Just this moment, we heard a news flash saying Hitler was dead. [Hitler committed suicide April 30.] It would be very interesting to know if it was true. And if true, whether it was by natural causes or otherwise. The old boy would turn over wherever he is if he could see what has been done to his pictures in this building, of which there are innumerable copies. Everyone has been broken, torn or disfigured. When the first troops went though here, they did a good job. I may not have made it clear yesterday, but we sleep in rooms here on the floor above our offices. It is definitely better than our other location; however, there is no running water in the rooms, as we had back in France. The panzerbuster was removed harmlessly today by an expert.

News has just come over the radio that German troops have just surrendered in Italy. That is darn good news. Now if the rest will do that and the Japs would too, I’d come home. What a day of celebration that would be.

Mom does not fail to take you for granted now, Honey. It’s just that she is so anxious to be around us when we are there she can’t sit still. We are her greatest concern and she has to flutter around taking care of us. She is always afraid I’ll work too hard, too.

Over my desk is a bright red banner five inches wide bearing a swastika and the words Deutsche Reichspost. Haven’t had much time to collect souvenirs for a couple days. I must get at that again.

Don’t have any really good ones yet. Give D a squeeze and remember I love you.

Harold May 5 This is a great day. Had a shower bath, the first shower for a month and the first good bath in about a week. Oh, it was fine! T’was a fine day on another account also. Received a letter from my honey and one from my mother.

My mom wrote that you were of very great assistance in your recent visit. She claims that old Doug is a sweet child and good natured and unspoiled.

You have been spreading false rumors about my locations. Mom thinks I’ve been in Belgium.

Military necessities make it possible for elements of our command to go all over occupied Europe on missions of various kinds. That does not mean that I have been any of those places.

This morning I had communion for the first time using wine. I do not plan to mention it to Father since it would probably disturb him unnecessarily.

I have seen a couple ancient towns of Germany of the old feudal plan with a surrounding wall.

They look very interesting. It would all be very

The Stars And Stripes, May 3, 1945 Germany edition, reports on the surrender of Italy.

picturesque but for the wreckage in most cases of at least part of the wall or town because of the bombing.

German civilians are very numerous in all areas.

They seem tired of war and somewhat bewildered. Men who have been to the front say that the average German soldier is ready for surrender everywhere. Only the SS troops fight on. They are the fanatical Nazis. By the time you get this, the war may and probably will be over officially. The sooner the better. We are ready to return for our discharges anytime. But no matter how soon or how long I’ll love you just as much.

Your own, Harold.

With V-E Day, it’s off to Czechoslovakia

May 7 brought the unconditional surrender of all German forces and May 8 was official V-E Day, victory in Europe. On V-E day, Harold’s unit pulled up stakes and headed to Czechoslovakia. Much of southern Czechoslovakia once was part of Germany and towns there have both Czech and German names. Harold’s unit traveled through Haid (Bor) and arrived at Mies (Stribro) on May 9.

25

May 9, 1945 My Darling, Have had to skip another day or so, forget which, in writing. It is now 2315 but I will scratch off a few lines. Of course, the great news is that of V-E Day. It has come and gone and everyone is very happy about it. Our enthusiasm is somewhat dulled by the realization that we have another hemisphere (it seems) to subdue, but everyone has heaved an enormous sigh of jubilation with this passing of one milestone. It now seems that we are on the way home, even though I may go by a very roundabout route. I could not tell you, if I knew, what the plans are for our division now, however, I can say that we know nothing yet one way or another. We certainly could fit in with a multitude of plans. We are expecting a lifting of censorship regulations soon and I will be able to tell you a lot you will want to know.

We are located at the moment on the edge of a refugee camp – Sudetenland [The German name used to refer to the southwestern and western areas of Czechoslovakia]. Germans poles Czechs, French and everything else. Some can speak English and some of our men can speak their languages including Yiddish. The talks they tell of broken homes and maltreatment make you sick at heart. I turned away once today from a group where a 30-year-old mother told how she and her husband and sixyear-old child were separated months ago. She has no idea where they are. Tears streamed down her face and I got away before I did the same. Again, tonight after we had finished chow, these people streamed over to get some food if they could. We have plenty to give away. They carried it off in huge bowls and ate enough individually for several persons. I saw expressions of happiness and thankfulness of deep emotion that I have rarely seen anywhere. I stood that about five minutes and had to leave that, too. It gets a man down. They are living in filth and congestion with little food and no medical care. Some had sores on them that were repulsive. Many had only meager clothing. I’ll never forget it. I don’t believe eternal damnation can be bad enough for the bastards that are responsible for all of this.

Through it all, I only love my own family the more and thank God I know where they are and that they are well taken care of. That’s my greatest concern.

Love, Harold.

May 12, 1945 Stribro, Czechoslovakia Well, my darling, this is the first evening I have killed in comfort for some time. We are living in

A few of the AG men pose for a picture outside a former Hitler Youth School in Stribro (Meis) Czechoslovakia.

Displaced people were fed by the Army when they set up camp.

Feeding displaced people at a camp near Haid, Czechoslovakia.

26

a large building untouched by bombing, the first we have occupied in German areas. It is large and spacious, formerly a kind of school. Lots of space for everyone, beds, good offices and windows with all the glass in them. The mess hall is like the old college dining hall and is bright and cheerful, no crowding. It is by far the nicest place we have been since leaving the states. We hope to have running water shortly.

Behind us is an athletic area and a beautiful little park. This evening the boys were issued a couple kegs of beer and they took it down in the park to enjoy it. It was warm and pleasant as could be. We have enough to do to keep us busy during the day and sometimes at night but not everyone every night.

I worked until 2300 last night and went right to bed. The night before we were busy also. I hope and believe that business will fall off some.

I almost forgot to say that the package with the cheese and Jello arrived. Or did I tell you? Anyway, thank you very much. The cigars were very welcome. I haven’t been able to get any through the PX for some time. I’ve been fortunate to have some German confiscations in a small size, like a large cigarette. They have kept me going with what you have sent. Here is a request for more cigars, in case you need one.

I must write to the folks, so good night. All my love and be sure to teach Douglas how to say hello, too.

Harold.

May 14, 1945 Sweetheart, I have just come in from the volleyball court where I wore myself out running all over the court. You see, we had only two on a side most of the time and never more than 4.

This is a beautiful summer day here in Czech. This town is untouched by bombs so we hardly feel at home. We have running water in our rooms now for the washing – The GI laundry has taken our dirty clothes in and everything is as comfortable as could be asked – a sure sign of a change. The mail is so good too that we know something is going to happen. Received two letters from Mom today.

Mom says she guesses she is a good bit of a cripple and not much good. I don’t like to see her morale sag like that. Dad does not expect to preach at Clairborne much longer. Mom is glad to have him quit entirely, but Dad still hates to. Hurts his feelings because the Dist.

Superintendent does not seem eager for his services.

There is a great deal of difference between France, Germany and Czech. Czech appears to be the least interesting. I have seen no large cities in Czech, but the smaller towns

May 13, 1945 Today was a red-letter day. Coyle received clippings from home announcing the 16th having been in action! It stated that we had, as part of Patton’s great armored spearhead, taken Pilsen amid cheering Czechs. I wonder if you have seen any credit lines for us yet? This was an INS article and appeared in a NYC paper May 7.

We just got in on the tail end of things. The truth of our exploits is very tame. Someday, I’ll tell it to you. We were a long way back when our tanks rolled into Pilsen.

We are now located in Czechoslovakia, but non-fraternization is still in force. There are quite a lot of Germans in Czech. We were in the Nurnberg and Mainz for a while in our trek across the continent. Lived in the field a little bit. Spent quite a bit of time on the road. Hence, days went by with no letter to you. I couldn’t tell you where we were enroute.

Give Doug a hug for me and tell him his Daddy misses him. As for you my dear, I always wish I could be with you because I love you very, very much.

Harold 27

are least striking and prosperous. They appear more backward and are not as pretty. Czech is made up of Czech proper and German Sudetenland. The real Czechs are real allies and were very happy to see us take Pilsen. They gave our troops a reception like that in Paris when it was liberated. There is a PW camp nearby Pilsen which contained Russian PWs. Outside their gate is a huge sign, “We welcome the Americans, our liberators.” The people of German Sudetenland however are and were ardent Nazis. They are not as happy with our presence.

I want to write to the folks, so I’ll say goodnight for now and I love you as always.

Harold.

May 18, 1945 My sweetheart; Yesterday I received your box of stuffed fruit and the cigars. Honey, those cigars are arriving just in the nick of time each time. Thank you so much. As for the fruit – it really hits the spot.

Rumors are rampant. You may yet get what I promised you when I left the states. A very few months should tell the tale one way or the other.

Maybe we will know where we stand within even a month or six weeks. In all events always remember no matter how long it is I’ll keep on loving you just the same and when I get home for good, you’re going to have me underfoot constantly. I’m well tired of being away from home and have done enough for a lifetime.

Goodnight sweetheart! Give Doug a squeeze for me.

Harold.

A Sudatenland ox cart is worth a picture.

May 24, 1945 My Darling, This evening I have been away from my duties ever since 7:30. That’s pretty good. Not often I get away with that.

Today orders came out relieving us of the necessity of carrying arms after retreat, permitting us to wear overseas caps once more and to wear our pants outside our boots. Every little relaxation helps to offset things like reveille etc. I have enclosed a German military decoration in a previous letter and am doing the same in this one. As you can tell, they were not lifted from a dead man’s chest. Picked them up back in Nurnberg.

That is quite an interesting city with its stadium, walled city and intricate maze of underground passages and rooms. They run for miles. The building we were in was an important military administrative center and had tunnels running from it for miles. A party of us planned on a reconnaissance trip but something always stymied us – and then, too, it was against regulations, definitely! They had many courtrooms, both large and small, all elaborate in design and decoration. In the largest was a picture of Hitler about 10 feet high.

I see now why Robert is going to C&GS [Command and General Staff] school – he’s a reg. Army man at heart – wears his tie in when he puts his civilian clothes on! Ha! I am working currently on a scheme to see Don over here. If he just stays put and we do too, for a little longer I may make it. I’ll report my progress.

In a letter from Mom, she reported that they had made a lot of progress on the repairs of the back porch, which I know bothered them both, as it was.

She also told that the Dist. Supt. was treating Dad like a dog. I’ll be glad when they get clear out of the church business as I guess they soon will.

Chow here has been the poorest I have seen in years. We have drawn lousy rations. It’s not the cook’s fault. There is little grade A meat. We have

May 21, 1945 My dear, Censorship has really relaxed now. We no longer have censorship by our officers. Base censorship only applies now. That is good for anyone.

We are located at Mies [the German name for Stribro] about 15 miles west of Pilsen. It is a small town of perhaps 1,000 population, not particularly interesting except for a tower or two and the main government building. We are at the moment located in an area to be eventually occupied by Czech or Russian troops.

With the war over, the old CS has started again.

We start standing reveille in the morning at 0630 and retreat at 5:30 p.m. plus a lot more crap. That’s the only drawback to being occupation troops. It is 6:30 now and I’ve just finished. I am going to write a note to Don telling him of our location. It is not completely impossible that I might be able to see him if each of us stays put long enough. I could get permission if he was close enough.

All my love, Harold 28

Cs thrown in on occasion and the final overall result is worse that I have seen since days in Fort Knox, but I still love you.

HO March 27, 1945 My Dear, These people around here don’t know the war’s over. They think everything is urgent and put operational priorities on everything. Last night I had to work until late for no good reason at all. You’d think we were still fighting the war by the rush with which they do things.

One of the big jobs at the moment of all Corps, Armies and Div, which ended the war in German territory, is to dispose of the German P of W. The system briefly is to identify each one conclusively as possible to be sure no one accused of war crimes is released (Himmler was discovered Thursday) and then to establish their permanent residence prior to the war. If it is in an area occupied by the Brits, we turn them over to that country’s officials.

If it is in the American sector, we transport them to a place very near their home then discharge them from their own Army and turn them loose. Of course, the local mil Gov’t knows who is turned loose. It takes a while to dispose of all of them.

May 30, 1945 Sweetheart, Knoblitt and I just returned from a 2 ½ hour stroll over the countryside and town. It is built on the sides of a small valley. They wouldn’t build on a plain because land is too valuable there for farming. Many houses and buildings of other types are three stories high. They are all brick or plaster.

Lots of mines in this territory. Don’t know what minerals. [It is a silver mining area]. We stood at the open shaft of one and tossed a stone down. It rattled down a long way. We also inspected a radar establishment on a nearby hill, demolished apparently as the Germans retreated. From the hilltop we gained an excellent view of the city. Passed a Russian PW camp now used for Russian displaced personnel and a Czech hospital. The soldiers of Czech are now everywhere — Have taken over town government and police everywhere.

We now have a Div. Recreational Center – fishing, golfing, sports of all kinds, and dancing. There are five-day quotas and one day. Leo has the crazy idea that they should be handed out on the basis of Adjusted Service Credit points, so Grove goes on the 5 day and Basrroll and LB on the one day. I’ll be slated to go very soon since I’m about 6th man in the 28. That’s what old Doug did for me. Wish he’d been twins!!

I am enclosing a crumpled note to show you how the Col. chews ass sometimes. Note the head-

GIs outside the AG Headquarters building in Plana.

ing! [note begins “2nd request.”] I had a perfectly good excuse but that didn’t matter. I didn’t bother to offer it. If we don’t all get chewed out by him once a day, we wonder what’s wrong.

Sweet dreams.

Love, Harold June 1, 1945 My dear, Here we go again -- this as I said before, is too good a spot in which to stay. The general wants us to be within walking distance of Forward Echelon, so away from here we must go. They were unable to find room for us that close, so they decided to put is in Plana, or Plan as it is sometimes called.

That is about 10 to 15 miles NW of Mies and 10 minutes by jeep farther from the FE than we were before. That’s the way it goes in the Army. Anyway, we have to move. Our biggest reasons for not wanting to are the good showers and clothes washing facilities we have here. The town is relatively uninteresting. I believe I told you that German women come in daily to wash our clothes in the 29

basement of this building. The get two meals a day as pay and are glad for it. They get much more that way than if they rely on the Czech Gov. to feed them.

Red tape has kept me from getting to see Don. Now I’m not sure he is still in the area I know he was. I am going to make another try this week if he is still in Germany. If he is alerted for shipment out of the continent, he will be unable to reveal his exact location probably. When an outfit is alerted for shipment, unit censorship starts again.

Enough for tonight. All my love.

HO June 3, 1945 Plana, Czechoslovakia My Darling, The building we are in now is in an old schoolhouse. We have more office space now and a very pretty chapel with an old pipe organ of six stops, two of which don’t work. It’s not bad though.

The Col. now has a private office and I am in an adjoining room about 18 feet square with four other men. As I said -- plenty of space. It must have been the principal’s office. The place is full of equipment of all kinds. The scientific equipment would outshine by far that which Adrian ever thought of having – hundreds of stuffed birds, and preserved biological specimens including human embryos and the head of a four-month old baby; butterflies, etc. Maps are plentiful and charts galore; lots of books and indication of a good program in the fine arts.

Germany has always been known for its good educational programs. Unfortunately, the shower room of the gym where we have our mess hall has been converted to an air raid shelter, so our showers are nonexistent. Otherwise, it’s an excellent spot. The town is larger than Mies, having four or five thousand probably. The latrines work here which is the first which function properly since our advent into Germany. 220 volt current is SOP everywhere, so I have to shave by starting our generator on the trailer in the back yard. The outfit can generate enough electricity for a small town of three to four hundred people but works as well for my one outlet. Nothing like using an ox to pull a small kid’s wagon. The ox teams, but the way, are very common.

I must write a letter to the folks now so here’s all my love, as always.

Harold

A drawing of the Esplanade Hotel overlooking the spa town of Marienbad.

Harold cools his heels on a seat outside the Esplanade.

Army billets.

June 5, 1945 Esplanade Hotel My sweetheart, I am writing to you this evening from a swanky hotel in Marienbad, Czech. I imagine anything comparable in the states would have cost $15-$20 a day. George Miller, Finance Master Sgt. and I have a room here for 5 days. Also available to us is another hotel, golf course, beach, horses, bicycles, and general relaxation.

In the 100-foot dining room, with a vaulted ceiling 40 feet high, linen tablecloths, waiters and string ensemble in formal dress and red upholstered chairs we eat our three meals a day. We have hot and cold water, beer and wine and maid service.

The city of Marienbad is a few hundred yards down the mountain. From where we are, we can view most of the city and the valley beyond. Bus service connects us with those facilities mentioned above which are not here. O yes – fishing and boating are also to be had for the asking. Sounds like a retreat

On vacation in Marienbad

The nearby spa town of Mariendbad was the perfect place for some R&R. Harold got away from the workaday world and landed in the Esplanade Hotel, very luxuious accommodations compared to what he was used to the usual 30

for tired soldiers, doesn’t it?

The division has organized what it calls the Recreational Center. It involves two hotels of aristocratic lineage and a beach at a nearby lake.

Quotas are allotted each organization every five days. The guys go for relaxation, entertainment and anything else they desire. There is but one officer, no MPs and there are no rules, except ordinary civilian rules for general behavior. At night there are movies or variety shows or dances. The beds are extremely comfortable, have sheets on them and are turned back for us in the evening by the maids.

All in all, it’s a helluva good deal – supposedly a rest center for battle-fatigued soldiers. I didn’t realize how battle fatigued I was until I arrived this morning.

Miller is a guy about 35 from Louisiana and abounds in dry humor and witty remarks. His unique expressions and remarks always are amusing.

All my love, Harold June 6, 1945 Esplanade Hotel, Marienbad, Czechosolvakia Darling, My vacation continues very pleasantly. The stationary was not used by the hotel in prewar days. Last evening, we were entertained by what I imagine was the house ensemble – some rather good musicians, I believe. Played waltzes and classical music in a very artistic way. Also mixed in a little semi-classical and even dragged out a version of Yankee Doodle with variations. I bet that was stored away back in the archives. This evening a Latvian trio and singer known as The Continental Trio and Terry Burke shouted some attempts at popular music American style and came too close to some levels of Americano to be enjoyable. This evening we have a GI variety show which will probably be a combination of burlesque, 5th class and Jazz, 6th class, however most of us will be entertained well enough. We are too hard up for the real thing to be too crabby about the level of performance.

For dinner this evening, we had pineapple sherbet. Very good!

Today I slept until nearly noon. Really enjoyed it. Then, this afternoon, George and I went to the Golf Hotel, which is the other one in this setup and took a look at the hotel and clubhouse. This place certainly must have international fame as a resort area and the golf links and hotel are famous as evidenced by the golf programs I’m enclosing with this letter. King Edward of England, that is the father of the Edward we know, dedicated the golf links I mentioned. They are the only ones in this city. This hotel has a King Edward suite as well.

A Marienbad hotel that was trashed by Nazi troops who occupied it.

We also climbed the mountain upon which we rest about half the way up, and went through a one time beautiful restaurant graced by a tower. Now it is defaced by occupation of the Wehrmacht troops and the mess of scrambled German uniforms they left behind.

June 8, 1945 My Sweetheart, Here we go into our third day at this spot. Should have written this last night but I didn’t so I’ll try to get it in before the mail goes this morning. The relaxation has been most enjoyable. Since writing yesterday, I have talked to the German manager and have learned several things of interest. This area is famous throughout the continent as a mineral water and mud bath center. It is strictly a summer business because it is quite cold in the winter and snow is very deep. The season starts in May but June is the time the elite start rolling in. 1937 was the last season. This hotel is the finest in town and either tops the list for the aristocracy or vies with the Golf Hotel. By the way, it was not the father of the present king who dedicated the golf course, but the grandfather Edward the VII. I believe it was.

31

The room fee was not at all expensive nor the food. All services were extra, but rooms ranged for one person from $1.50 to $5 based on the rate of exchange then current of four marks per dollar instead of 10 as is true in military exchanges.

Yesterday afternoon we went to the Sports Platz and heard Grace Moore and Nino Martini in a USO concert. They did not get the reception they expected. They didn’t get down to earth enough of the time. That woman has a wonderful personality – very disarming and gracious. I was quite close and took some pictures.

The carts of France were their most picturesque item to me. Germany’s most characteristic object seems to be the huge wicker baskets the women carry on their backs. They are 3 feet by 1 foot by 1.5 feet at least and tied on by loops of ropes through which their arms go. They carry enormous loads on them.

The weather has been perfect for such a vacation. I’m going to hate to go back to all the shit and tension which Leo imposes on us all.

In the servant families here is a 6–year-old kid – Santos Alexander – an Italian lad whose mother and father worked here before the war. He knows Italian and German and a smattering of English and French even to the extent of reading a little.

He is very sharp and knows where his loyalties lie. His speech is a funny combination of all these languages. It’s very amusing to see him go through a magazine pointing to each character and indicating their nationality. And he knows their characteristics, too, and has no hesitancy in indicating which are “goot” and which “caput.” When he can get them, he smokes cigarettes at a chain smoker’s rate.

All my love, sweetheart and give Socko a helluva squeeze for me.

Harold

Postcard images of Marienbad, a spa town crammed with hotels and entertainment venues.

Persons (DPs). Germans run loose everywhere. It is not unusual to see Germans in full uniform going down the street. I was on a street today which was lined with recuperating German soldiers on every step, balcony and window. There was not a GI to be seen. Gave me a rather queer feeling. Also, I walked out into one of the woods which fringe the town and found myself running a gauntlet of German soldiers – about 15 – on each side of my path.

As usual, they were poker faced and unresponsive with a rather tired and half sullen look. Only their eyes moved as I went by. I had no gun. Wonder what they thought?

Goodnight Sweetheart. I must get to bed.

Love Harold

June 8, 1945 Sweetheart, I’m a tired lad tonight – must have walked 6 to 8 miles today up and down these small mountains.

Some are very steep climbing. Also, went out to the beach and tried to get a horse for a little jaunt but couldn’t do it – they were all worn out, and the boys were keeping them in. They are not in very good shape. They were taken from a prison camp and they are trying to build them up to first class condition. There are about a dozen and some look like very nice animals. Tomorrow perhaps I’ll get there in time. Tomorrow is my last day so it’s then or never. I haven’t been swimming or fishing – just haven’t gotten around to it and probably won’t. I’m terribly lazy.

Don’t believe I’ve told you that most of these hotels are hospitals. Many are German. The remainder house American troops or Displaced

June 9, 1945 Sweetheart, I’m sitting out in front of the hotel on the promenade walk basking in the sun and waiting for a bus to take me down to Lido Beach. We had an excellent breakfast of ham, scrambled eggs, coffee and toast. Best meal we’ve had. It was in striking contrast to last night’s meal. For 1 ration these days, we draw only 2/3 of a ration compared to what we used to draw. That is a real cut. I guess we’re feeding the starving civilians over here. God knows 32

they’ll probably only scratch the surface. These DPs are on the hand of the AMG by the hundreds of thousands. German soldiers are being discharged to enter very little other than agricultural pursuits.

A very common dress for the man and boys in Germany is a pair of shorts, the legs of which, on the older men, come clear down to their knees.

These short pants are often woolen and heavy.

They create a queer spectacle when worn in a place of business.

The buses we ride to the beach are driven by Germans in uniform. One GI rides along to tell him where to stop and when to go. They could easily wreck a bus full but they don’t. The fight seems to be well taken out of them. They also run around the beach, taking care of it and making improvements.

No one pays any attention to them and they tend strictly to their own business.

I am back now. George and I went on the bus and he read a Stars and Stripes while I took a little horseback ride. I had a nice little mare that did very well by me as long as I let her eat grass every 15 minutes or so. I was out for an hour and enjoyed it very much. I wish all the more that I will be in a place someday where having a horse or two will not be infeasible.

We sleep here yet tonight and go home in the morning. I planned on going to see Don during my stay here but my intelligence men tell me they are on the move. I have an idea I’ll not get to see him on this continent. He might just beat me home for a furlough.

The forests are all beautiful, lots of fir and well cleaned of underbrush leaving a cushion of needles underfoot and tiny patches of light streaming through the trees overhead. Long rows are planted right in line. It is all very impressive. I’ll write again this evening. For now, all my love.

Harold

Former hotel becomes AG Headquarters in Pilsen.

it myself.

Don has, I am afraid, traveled beyond my reach.

He’s in Rouen, I understand. That sounds as if he’d be back in the states temporarily at least before long. Of course, lots of changes can take place. It’s impossible to predict with any degree of accuracy.

There are too many variables.

A letter from Mom today made my blood boil.

That damn District Superintendent wrote Dad that he could not be used since his preaching was not up to par – pastoral work was OK, he said. That dolt doesn’t have much of the Grace of God in him if he doesn’t give a man credit for long years of unselfish service to a humanitarian profession.

Dad’s preaching is very poor now, and never was exceptional. But I’ll bet the Supt. has never been held higher in the esteem of his parish that Dad has. Damn his inconsiderate spirit. I hope someone returns the bread to him which he was cast upon the waters and in full measure. I’d certainly like a chance to tell him what I think. The folks feel badly about it.

It’s getting late, so goodnight and remember I love you and love you.

Harold

June 18, 1945 We have just returned from the Div. Review known as the United Nations Show presented in the Opera House at Marienbad. The inside is beautiful and ancient in design. There are three shallow balconies running one above the other in a horseshoe around the main floor. They are only four chairs deep. Looks much like the old English Theaters.

The hangings are a deep red and the plaster is covered with masks and musical symbols. The stage is obviously well equipped. The lighting wasn’t exceptional but perhaps had possibilities which were untouched. There were Ukranians, Russian, Czechs and Jews of two or three countries. Lithuanians and Poles, plus a bunch of GIs. The highlights were a group of Russian dancers and singers in the native costumes and an accordionist. All in all it was a very interesting program. Made me itch to get into

Jun 20, 1945 Plana, Czechoslovakia I’m writing this this morning before work, so I won’t have much time. Did nothing last night but BS. What is to happen to us individually is a matter of great conjecture. We are more likely to go to the Pacific than to stay here since more men are needed there than here. If we are assigned to the Pacific, we have a better chance of going through the states than direct since more combat troops are supposed to be doing that than going direct. I’m not counting 33

on it at all because while it could happen to me, there are too many chances against it to be worth banking on it.

Our laundry is being done by a German woman across the street who asked us if she could do it for us. She mended and ironed everything including socks and underwear and pressed everything beautifully and then refused to accept anything in payment. That is the way these Germans frequently do. There has been great discussion on the subject of fraternization over here. We have little distrust of the Krauts we meet. They are not always friendly, but rarely cause trouble of any kind. Those who are not friendly we let alone. Those that are usually are fraternized with despite all regulations.

We have been subjected to as much propaganda on atrocities as you but what we see and experience counterbalances that a lot. I personally haven’t carried on in conversations or associated with any Germans, but many have. Chuck goes to see a girl in Mies regularly and so do others.

Well, honey, I must get to work. All my love, Harold June 21, 1945 Yesterday was a big day for me. I received four letters from you all at once and they included two more pictures of Doug. Now I believe I have them all. I was going to tell you just now which of the shots of the son and heir I liked the best but upon perusal of my photos case discovered that I like damn near each one of them for one reason or another.

The one of him in his highchair and the one taken with your Dad are I guess my favorites of him. I like the four generations and the picture with his great granddad for the other people in them rather than Socko himself. Always thought he had Bruce legs and that one picture surely suggests it. The pictures of Grandpa and Grandma Harrington are very good likenesses. I appreciate them all for one reason or another.

Breakfast is now eaten and with eggs and bread and coffee in my belly I feel like not going to work at all, however, I will and will as soon as I complete this letter. Yesterday was also eventful in that the package of Hershey bars arrived in good shape.

Be good. Be careful and remember – always be mine because I love you now and I will forever and ever. Your own.

Harold

Doug, aka Socko, on the farm in Michigan.

review the CG so he can eat. Not hard work but sort of hangs over my head all the time. If anything important comes in I must notify the Col. or other responsible individuals concerned. The worst part is that 90 percent is all completely unnecessary – just a lot of shit.

I hope you are not letting Doug get away with everything these days. If the little booger can get into all the places you tell about, pull lamps off the table, etc, he’s old enough to learn not to do something, too. You write of how much he understands, well, he can start learning what no means, too. Perhaps he has already, and you have just not thought to mention it. A swat on the butt won’t hurt him any occasionally.

Today I was thinking about you moving the household to Michigan and suddenly thought of something else to be concerned about – the piano.

I expect a complete report on all your moving activities, trials and mishaps. That by the way should give source material for several letters together with the trip to Cincinnati.

I have the four generations picture in front of me

June 24, 1945 Today has been a day of rest, but I am forced to drop in to work every few hours to clear the outbaskets of Col. S, Mefford and Schobert and check on all the mail which comes in at various times and all the correspondence from the units as well as to 34

as I write. Closest I can come to being with you!

Every night when I go to bed I think about you and Doug and about the time I’ll see you again.

I always imagine getting off a train in the Toledo depot and looking for you through those dusky windows. Patience, I guess, is the password. I’ll be most happy when I don’t have to exercise it so much. Someday this damn war will be over! All my love, until then.

Harold

OK with me. My lines of communication are too long and slow to be of any good over here.

The scenery around Mies and Plan is beautiful.

Wish you could see it. Mountains are not high but expansive and the evergreens really set them off.

Roads wind up and around and dive suddenly to the floor of a pretty valley. Near Pilsen, it levels out into excellent rolling farmland. I have little chance to get pictures since the vehicles in which I ride through this territory rarely stop for adventurous cameramen.

I must get to bed now. As usual, I drop off to sleep thinking about my sweetheart and our boy and praying for the day we can all be together for good. All my love.

Harold.

June 26, 1945 My Darling, I have had to get out my candle this evening in order to write. For an unknown reason, the lights in two rooms here are out. I always carry a candle in my dispatch case and find it comes in very handy. I did not write yesterday because I was in Pilsen. We send a courier to Corps every day, so I went and had a pass to cover me for the rest of the day. The town is not beautiful and has not recovered from the war yet very much. Only the part immediately adjoining the Skoda Works is leveled but there is much evidence of machine gunning and small arms fire throughout – lots of broken windows, shattered roofs and pocked walls.

I am enclosing a picture of the cathedral, which rests in the center of town. It is stately and beautiful inside, however I saw a smaller church that was much more elaborate and expensive looking on the inside nearby. There is little to see of sightseeing interest, however I am glad I went. I was in a store where they sold souvenirs but saw nothing I thought you would like. You can buy anything they have to sell for a few cigarettes. They will sell for as high as 500 Kronin a pack – that’s $5. C & K rations are worth huge prices also. Of course, all such barter is illegal but there is an enormous trade going on entirely in the open. It’s like fraternization – illegal but a common practice that no one makes much of an attempt to stop.

I found out today from sources available that Don is in the same position as I am – up for reassignment – either occupation forces or the Pacific. I had guessed his assignment would remain the same since he was back at Rouen, but I find out to the contrary.

By now you have probably received word from Mom that she is in bed with a swollen leg – phlebitis. Same thing H. Watkins had as I recall. I have a feeling that one thing after another is going to develop. She’s all worn out! Please keep in touch as closely as possible with them. I am afraid she will not last out my time overseas. If anything were to happen, I would of course be unable to get back at all. Damn this war anyway!! It has spoiled so many of my plans. Anything you may decide to do relative to the folks in my absence will of course be

June 29, 1945 My Darling, We have just come form seeing a USO show which for the most part stunk. The best part was an old man, M/C who was a rope (lariat) expert along with several other minor tricks. It was the poorest USO troupe I have seen over here and, strangely enough, it was the only American troupe we have had presenting that kind of a program. The girls were lousy and the music poor.

I weighed myself and hit the scales at 165. That’s not as much as when I ate your cooking daily, as you may recall. Did I weigh 180? Or is it only my imagination? Seems as if that was it – maybe only 175.

As you know, the military picture shifts frequently. I am still up for redeployment to an occupational or Pacific going outfit but at the moment it looks as if it might be delayed some months. Can’t tell!

I was able to “obtain” some leather suitable for making shoes and boots. We have in this town three shoemakers. By now they are deluged with work since everyone who could get some leather is having some boots made. They are completely hand made except for sewing. Takes a man 1 ½ or two days to make a pair and a couple dollars is all they charge, or even less sometimes. I made the rounds of the three by myself and through pantomime, German marks, Czech kronin, cigarettes and a calendar I made my choice. Then I got Murdock who knows Slovak and Czech fairly well and took my leather in hand and visited the shop of my choice to make the actual deal. If I’m lucky, I can get them by the last week of July. I hope I’m still here by then. If we get orders to move I’ll be stuck unless I can bribe them to do mine ahead of the other orders. If the Div. remains and I leave, I can always get someone else to get them for me and send them. I’ll just have to take that chance. In measuring for size, the guy traced the shape of my foot on a paper, then, with a tape, measured around 35

July 2, 1945 My Darling, After a tempestuous day, I set me down to write a bit to my very best sweetheart and the Socko, the kind what is the best in the world!! According to a report from his material grandma, he has an occasional weak moment but most of the time he’s as good as gold – Which of course I expect (and believe implicitly). I miss you both very much and think of you a lot.

The picture you gave me at Christmas, honey, which I have always liked so much, I keep on a stand by my bed in the quarters. The best picture I have of Doug, the smiling one taken in Fort Wayne, I have on the wall over my desk in the office. I often have compliments concerning it. So you see, I don’t fail to keep you mind.

Your mother’s letter I enjoyed very much since it was all about Doug. She says you are very severe when the little showoff blows his food all over everyone but everyone else thinks it really very funny. She says your Dad tries to give you support but winds up laughing, too. Keep it up honey. If he needs a tanning, lay it on. If he can realize he has an audience he can realize what actions do not bear repetition, too.

Our mail has finally started to roll in again. I hope to get two or three tomorrow. We have been issued one fifth of Cognac for every 10 men. I drank my share tonight and found it very good. All my love.

Harold

my foot at the ball, the instep, the heel, the ankle and the calf. Also the height on my leg. They do a beautiful job. If I am just here long enough. Well, I must stop now. All my love, Harold July 1, 1945 My Sweetheart, Last night I did not get a letter written because I did not get home until 0100. I was at a Boy Scout meeting! Ya! Das ist! You see our chief ARC man here is a scoutmaster from way back.

He came into contact with some people in Pilsen and discovered that it was at one time a center of such activity. During the war it went underground and came up when the patriots overthrew the Nazi control a few days prior to VE Day. Last night we (the choir) were invited to be present at their first “Campfire” as representatives of the BSA and asked to sing some American scout songs. The meeting was held outdoors in the sports platz where some 4,000 to 5,000 had congregated, about 1,000 boy and girl scouts and visitors.

We sang twice and were greeted with the loudest cheering you ever heard. You would have thought we had personally liberated their country.

Of course, American troops – our division – had taken Pilsen, or shall I say, “claimed” the city. It took no real effort. They shouted so loudly we thought we were heroes, or something allied to that.

The program was announced first in Czech and then English for our benefit. It consisted of songs by everyone, a boys’ choir, a girls’ chorus, also poems and a choral reading. Their singing was in three parts, all damn good for a bunch of kids 8 to 16 years old.

No time for more this morning.

Love, Harold

July 4, 1945 My Darling, Here it is a holiday and as usual in the army I have been screwed out of it. With the exception of sleeping until 9 this am, I have had to work all days. Things are popping around here in the redeployment business. We are transferring men in and out, but I still remain. None of my close buddies have gone yet, although chances are good for some changes in a week or two. I would not be surprised if I remained here for a while, however. Then too, I may leave very soon. Interesting possibilities aren’t there.

No mail today, but there was one yesterday – a package from you with sugar candy, pickles and meat. Thank you very much, my dear. Those pickles are going to melt in my mouth, if pickles can melt.

I think we got our money’s worth out of the refrigerator. It could very easily have been fixed before they quit making that model. I hate to spend $75 on it but would like to do that for Aunt Pearl.

My being in the Army so long just when we were getting on our feet has made it impossible for me to do several things for the folks I would like to 36

have done. So if we can get it working again for an expenditure of that amount, I would favor it. I know what it will do to your bank account, but I’m afraid those two families aren’t going to be around too much longer, anyway. Dad is the only healthy one among them. Of course, he may go first. If we do such a thing it would be with the idea that they were using it while we did not need it and would someday ask for it back. What do you think?

Someday I’m going to be on my way home and you’ll be waiting for me or going to meet me, too.

That’s going to be one of the happiest days of my life! I miss you most when I read your letters but I feel downright unhappy when I don’t get any for a while. I never have the heartache I used to have before were were married. I still feel I have you even though you are a long distance away. Having you for myself, even at long range, means a great deal to me.

Good night now, honey. I love you very much.

Give old Doug a hug from his Dad. Harold July 5, 1945 Sweetheart, It just dawned on me that the 7th of this month is Mom’s birthday. Don’t know how I forgot that.

I hope you didn’t. I could’t have sent anything since there is so little to buy around here, but I would have mentioned it in a letter. I wonder if you realize that July 7 marks another milestone? My longevity pay starts then – three years by golly; one hash mark. If I get another, I will be very unhappy.

I certainly am not planning on it.

The moving business certainly must have been a job for you three women. I wish I could have helped since the task of picking up a household and transplanting it elsewhere has never daunted my soul any. In fact it was always somewhat of an adventure. I realize that there was nothing to look forward to in this move, which suggested any adventure. Perhaps the unloading of the responsibility will be of some satisfaction and offset some of the unpleasant elements. I would have liked to have kept the apartment, but it was too much trouble and expense in the summer while we get nothing out of it at all.

You eased my worry about our dear old piano by telling me you had given it to someone who wanted it. It would have been an unhappy day had it fallen into disinterested hands. It’s still such a good piano.

Ha! I am certainly glad you received the post cards of France. I would have hated to have lost them. I value them more than German rifles, etc.

Near here is a stockpile of thousands of German rifles and Italian models. I could and did have my pick of them. (You will be proud of me.) I said I

want no big gun which will be good only to hang over a fireplace and points to objects of the “last war” and also good only to drag around. Could I have laid my hands on a pistol or 25-caliber rifle I would have taken it in a minute, but I have not yet been able to work such a deal. Those I’d use for target practice and Ingrid Bergman performed small game as well as with Jack Benny souvenirs.

I have a German bayonet which I carry chiefly because it can be used as a heavy hunting knife in the field. I probably will not bring it home. If I could get one of the highly decorated knives or swords I would take it. As usual, the things I want are always scarce as hen’s teeth for almost six months now.

Well, my dear, I can’t think of much more to write about now. Looks as if Doug would be on his feet by his first birthday.

All my love, Harold 37

July 17, 1945 My Darling, It has be several days since I wrote you a letter.

We’ve been damn busy with the exception of one night. Have been working hard all day and up to midnight each day. Have transferred half the division to other outfits. I still remain.

My disposition remains the same uncertainty that it has been for some time. I have no clues. I could return to the states with the division where it is expected it is to be disbanded, but that’s a long chance. At the moment, I’ve been doing my job and the warrant officer’s job. That is quite a load. I have no difficulty except in finding time to do it all in 24 hours.

The one night off I spoke of was to hear and see Jack Benny and troupe. It was an excellent program. I have never seen him in person or in any full-length film so I really enjoyed it. He’s an old master of the boards – sticks out of him all over.

I am enclosing an example of continental toilet paper. Pretty harsh, I can tell you. Picked it up in Marienbad at the hotel Esplanade while I was there.

Don may be enroute somewhere. His old outfit is not in the same category as are we. They are headed for the CBI. It seems illogical that he would be transferred from there, but maybe he has been.

I must get a letter off to the folks. I’ll try to write a long letter tomorrow night. Forgot to mention – Benny played his violin in two numbers (the first time I have heard him) and he did a beautiful job.

Ingrid Bergman did a very pleasing excerpt from her next play. That gal has tremendous control of her voice.

All my love, Harold.

be how many generations they had been in the family.

Forgot to tell you Jack Benny claimed that our Div. Dance Band was the best military band he had ever heard on three tours overseas, and to prove that he meant it, I guess, he made arrangements to take them along on the next six weeks of his tour.

That will really be OK for those lads. Rudy is not in the dance band.

Honey , will you please make a purchase for me for Socko’s birthday? I’d like to get him a wagon.

From what you write, I believe he’d enjoy it very much by that time – Perhaps he could ride in it for a while not yet so big but what he could drag it around some when he’s steadier on his pins. I’m sure he’d like to ride in it now. Tell him it’s a present from his dad.

You write of having suggested to Mom that she send me a can of boned chicken. Ha! I wrote her when I wrote you – thought I would get two cans that way. I am glad to see you have remembered all the anniversaries of my family. June 30 was the folks 40th. That seems a long time. I hope they hit a 50th but I’m afraid Mom won’t last that long.

Maybe she’ll fool me. I hope so.

It is nearly 10 o’clock so guess I’ll quit and go to bed. Was up too late last night. Hope you can buy a good wagon for Doug. All my love and that’s a great deal.

Harold

Sheets, maid service & an orchestra

July 21, 1945 Sweetheart. This has been a beautiful day. This afternoon I got away from the office for about three hours and went with Slockbauer up to Marienbad to look over the hotel where we are to move next Saturday.

Forward Echelon and Rear are both moving into that town but, thank God, we will be separated by six or eight blocks. We have a very nice small hotel known as Regina Palace Hotel where we will set up – offices and billets in the same building. We will have only about 100 men there but our civilian (German) service personnel number about 35. The kitchen personnel will be all civilian except for a mess sergeant to watch the routing of the rations into us and not out the back door.

We have cleaning women, linen women, mending women, bartenders and waiters. In other words, a complete staff. We will sleep between sheets and have washing facilities in each room with one bath tub for each 15 men. It’s going to be a really fine set up. Yes! There is a 5 piece orchestra, roof garden and linen table cloths. It seems to be a nearly ideal setup. We figured out where everyone was to go and made tentative plans with the owner for

July 17, 1945 1945 hours This is the earliest I have started my letter writing in quite a while. This was a comparatively light day and by working with my usual dash and rigor, I was able to get done sooner. I must answer some of the letters I have been receiving the last 10 days and have not had time to answer.

I am listening to some good music at the moment that is coming over a “liberated” German radio left behind by a man suddenly transferred to the UK. It was too big to carry along and no one would buy it.

Something I meant to mention is we see not uncommonly the men and even small boys wearing actual buckskin pants. They must last forever. It is comical to see a 4-year-old with a pair on. Talk about not being able to swat Doug through several thicknesses of diapers (I forgot about those things.

Hasn’t he outgrown such childish habits?) Such hand me downs as they would make. One wouldn’t mention how many boys had worn them, it would 38

accommodating us. He is very anxious to please.

We also got in three new men in the AG section – one to be our GI hotel mgr and best of all a M/ Sgt to learn my job. Then I will have nothing to do but float around and ‘coordinate’ and teach a WO who is taking over Mefford’s old job. I will have the WO and the M/sgt to instruct and will then turn over the paper work and spend my time just running the section and trouble shooting. After what I have been doing, that will be like taking a vacation.

All my love, Harold.

hour, no projectionist and no film arrived. So I finally took off with Getz and Armstrong for a walk around town.

It would amuse you to listen to us on such strolls.

We comment on all the women we meet and talk boastingly, of all the ass we have had, and plan to get. Sir Hyperbole was a weak sister compared to our loquacious and vicarious philandering. We really talk a good battle. Three bald headed old gray beards. You would laugh at us until your belly got sore.

More and more, I believe I do not want to be a part of the occupational forces. No one gives a damn whether they get the work out anymore or not. There’s a general laxness which is very demoralizing. The old timers say they won the war and now they’re just waiting for transportation home.

They’re like a private who says “they can’t bust me I’m already on the bottom.” These boys don’t give a damn. They say they’re going home soon. Let them raise hell.

I’ve been getting your letters quite regularly but I am way behind on answering them. I’ll catch up some day. They piled up there when I missed writing so often. Whether I write or not, I always think about you and love you a great deal.

Your own, Harold

July 22 1945.

My darling. This has indeed been a beautiful day.

The sun was bright and the weather balmy, an ideal day it has been for picnicking. I slept late missed breakfast and church, and spent the afternoon and dinner this evening at our hotel in Marienbad.

To offer further commentary on my report to the Czech situation, I must say, We US troops and government are trying very hard to keep from becoming involved in Czech and Russian incidents, relative to the Germans. When a report of a Czech beating up a German or looting is reported, we never step in, we always turn it over to the Czech officials for current correction. And when the Russian troops cross our lines on pillaging parties, we merely turn them back. They are never even imprisoned, or anything more done to them except to escort them to our lines and report the incident. Our US policy is to allow nothing to happen that might cause an objection from the foreign government.

We don’t allow them to get away with anything, but only very firm and courteous treatment is rendered.

I sometimes notice you have trouble finding things to write me about, but never fear, I do not find stories of simple home routine uninteresting.

Even though it may be boring to you at times, any reports you make on yourself, and old Socko, I read eagerly at least twice and sometimes more.

I always carefully reread your letters. You’re my sweetheart, now, as much as ever. And I like to know what occupies your mind as I always have.

Home and my family has always been my major interest. Sometimes I make dream castle plans of bringing you and Doug over here in 10 or 15 years to see all I am seeing now. I like to think about it anyway. That would be the ideal way to see Europe, as far as I am concerned.

Good night. Harold

July, 25 1945 My darling, Just wrote a long letter to the folks and will start this tonight and finish it in the morning, I think.

The bugs are beginning to thicken around here lately. Mosquitoes etc. Since this continent does not have screens, they gather in hordes around the lights. Why they have such extreme facilities -- the modern and the archaic -- is beyond me.

This will verify that American troops are still occupying Czech, as far east as Pilsen, our original restraining line. There seems to be no immediate prospect for a change, although a change is constantly rumored and has been since VE Day. I think the Americans will move out when the Russians leave Czech. I doubt if that will be soon.

This American-Russian relationship is so carefully guarded and studied as any operations plan, ever was.

In the picture of Grace [Moore, America operatic soprano] and Nino [Martini, an Italian operatic tenor], the other soldier was of no importance. They always drag in some GI to make it look good back home. Actually, the general monopolized her and they never did make their scheduled trip to the hotels and the Recreation Center where the GIs were waiting with cameras. That’s the way a lot of things turn out. The publicity accuracy is pretty low. As you may have gathered from some of the things

July 24 1945 Sweetheart, I missed writing yesterday so I must get in a good letter today. I worked until late last night, but took the entire evening off tonight, felt in the mood for a movie so went to our local theater, but despite the fact that I waited for over half an 39

I have written, the propaganda that you read in the states is just what the State Department wants published. Much of it is untrue, or at least partially perverted. Ten years from now they’ll start telling the truth about a lot of things that have happened over here.

Don’t feel that you cause the folks trouble when you go down there, even if you increase the work in some respects you lessen it in others, and I know they enjoy having you there. It’s good for their morale, and gives them something new to think about at this stage of the game. They need that, particularly Mom. I know she’ll never slow down. I gave up on that a long time ago, but a change of activity and encouragement along certain lines will help.

I saw the eclipse of which you spoke. Strange how it can be seen over here, too. Ain’t nature wonderful?

Many divisions will be disbanded over here.

Depends on how low they get in personnel.

If all their men are transferred out, they’ll disband here. If a substantial number remain after the category one and two units are filled, they will return to the states for disbandment. Don’t rely on those newspapers they aren’t worth a damn!

I now have only four letters of yours that are unanswered. I have all of them. As usual, here’s all my love.

Harold

any boots. I do not have the leather. I wrangled the pieces for mine when it was plentiful. Now it is very hard to get.

I did not ask M&K for a box of food, because I don’t want them to think that I communicate with them only when I have ulterior motives. If you would tell me what is available now in the States, I’d send you some requests, but most of the things I asked for seem to be hard to get. Perhaps I have merely forgotten to mention the things that are easy to get.

Goodnight, sweetheart. All my love forever.

Harold July, 29 1945 My darling, The general says FE and RE will move together, but they haven’t decided whether they will both go to Marienbad or setup where FE now. FE does not like their present abode because when they are drawing water for a bath and get a quarter tub full, someone half a mile away flushes a toilet and the water ceases to flow. The general is getting tired of that. So we have had to go ahead with plans for moving into both places by Tuesday. Both will be ready. The Konstantinovy spot is an old hotel used for a few years as a Hungarian prisoner of war hospital. It’s stinks of blood and is full of moving things.

Last week I went up with Captain Slackhammer to the general’s briefing, and then went to look at the building. They had 50 prisoners of war cleaning and moving. Now we’ll have to have both places ready at no little effort and some expense. Then the old man will take another drink and decide where we will go. Hope there is a run on the toilets today and tomorrow.

The Czechs are taking all radios away from the Germans around here on some pretext. Can’t find out what at the moment. They were tipped off by someone. Probably American soldiers, and we were everywhere accosted by the Germans wanting to give us their radios. If we have them, the Czechs can’t. And God how they hate those Slavs.

The Germans like the carefree, generous nature of the Americans as contrasted with the treatment meted it out by the Czechs. The Germans have to be law abiding -- we demand that. Beyond that democratic gesture of generosity, it seems like a haven in a storm. They feel beaten by us but not sullen. We took away their chance for world dominance, but we turn around and are partially protecting them from the Czechs. They do not look upon us, as their oppressors.

A few nights ago a couple of our boys were talking to a couple German girls in the doorway of their home at 11 p.m. That is now legal for us, but not for them. At 10:30 they’re supposed to be

July, 26 1945 Sweetheart, Today has been a very warm day. It is rarely too warm for ODs [reference to standard olive drab uniforms] in the evening, but it happens a little more often during the day. I believe we are comfortable enough 80 percent of the time, as long as we are not exerting ourselves. If we are doing that, the old woollens are definitely too warm.

They are just beginning to harvest the wheat and other grains over here. 98 percent is cut with a scythe and cradle and bundled by hand using wheat stocks twisted as binding twine. The women work right along with the men in all operations.

I’ve told everyone about the article in the Saturday Evening Post. I believe I wrote to you before that the Prague civilian radio begged us all day to go to their rescue, but 12th Army Group held us in Pilsen after VE day. We disarmed 100,000 Germans between Pilsen and Prague upon authority of the Army Headquarters. They had been trying to surrender for three days, but no one would take their arms. The Russians weren’t in the area in sufficient strength, and we weren’t authorized. After taking Pilsen, we were anxious to go to Prague.

They were in full swing, had met little opposition, and were eager to carry on.

I’m afraid I will be unable to get you and Doug 40

inside. A Czech soldier on patrol spotted them. The next evening, they picked up the girls, marched them to jail and forced them to stand up all night and all the next day. 24 hours. And gave them no food. This is in a jail full of men similarly treated for one reason or another.

The views I give are not intended to suggest the opinion of 100 percent, but only an idea of what the majority we contact seem to believe. The division is full of men who are old veterans of the European Theater of Operations and have seen a lot. These views include their impressions, as well as those, such as mine.

The German women who carry passes from the American army, saying they work for the US, are not forced to work in the fields. As a consequence, our troops, give everyone who works for us but a few hours a day a pass indicating full-time work.

Americans do not like to see women working in the field.

Well, honey. It’s a grim old world. Everything seems so messed up over here, we’ll all be glad to get back to the trivial and great troubles of getting along in the USA. Most of those problems seem insignificant by comparison with these troubles so apparent around us now.

Love, Harold

this afternoon and will complete the move in the morning. I have more to write about, but we’ll do it tomorrow evening. All my love forever, honey.

Harold Aug. 5, 1945 Sweetheart, We are now situated, offices and billets, in the Regina Palace Hotel in Marienbad or Marianske Lazne, as the Czechs call it. The latter have a campaign on now whereby all German names of towns and buildings streets, etc. are reverting to the original Czech names. Nothing is too small to escape them. All names and public notices are being posted in Czech. When we started to occupy this place, instead of the very familiar Entrit Verboten, which has been used around all military installations in this area, we had to put the message in Czech to keep from offending the rulers. Actually, the Czechs in this town are probably not one in 25, and German is the common language.

Our hotel is very adequate. We have two men in a single and three in a double, which leaves lots of space. Big wardrobe cabinets and carpets, sheets, good beds and hot and cold running water in each room. About 15 men to a bathtub, which isn’t bad.

We have a large dining room with civilian waiters and waitresses, civilian personnel in the kitchen and maid service for our rooms. Downstairs there’s a cocktail lounge where we serve beer at the bar.

We eat off china and with silverware. As you can see, it is a damn near perfect arrangement. The hotel has a cocktail lounge and a roof terrace just outside the dining room with lots of tables where we can sit and talk in the sun, and where we will eat some of our meals. Linen on the tables and all make it an enormous contrast to what we have been used to. It is as good as many recreation centers.

Some are in better hotels, but many are not.

I received a letter from Mom telling me of the necessity of going to Cincinnati for more X-ray treatments and possibly another operation. It doesn’t sound good. She said she had written you.

I hate to be so far away when my presence could bolster morale so much. I wonder where she will stay while there?

I received the package of date bars, Honey. You can send me a box a month regularly. They certainly are good as you thought I’d think. Are they very expensive? Where do you get them? They suit me better than a box of chocolate bars. Thank you so much. Also, I appreciate the other contents. You are a sweet gal to go to so much trouble for me.

Goodnight sweetheart. Never forget, I love you all the time, and wish nothing more than that I could see you and hold you tightly. Someday I will.

Harold

General tires of plumbing problems

As July faded and the first days of August 1945 dawned, Harold found himself on the threshold of a new adventure.

The general, apparently tired of below average plumbing, chose Marienbad as the place where Harold’s outfit would be relocated. For nearly all of his adult life, Harold had framed photos of Marienbad hanging on the wall in his study, proving that the time and place carved an indelible place in his memory. On Aug. 3, 1945, he was preparing the move the following day, but he still had some time to be a critic of the snapshots he was receiving from home.

Aug. 3 1945 My darling, Just a short letter this evening to show you I haven’t forgotten you. I haven’t written for two days so I’m going to take enough time tonight to keep you up to date.

I did not write last night because we were celebrating that Verzoni’s and Grave’s appointments came through and it was Doug’s 11-month birthday, so we had plenty to drink. Sam Weinberg the NCO in charge of the division PX, Verzoni and Cy and I drank the major part of six bottles of champagne. It was a very pleasant little party.

Thursday night, we worked until late getting everything set for our moving into Marienbad. Spent the afternoon at the hotel and made last minute arrangements. We move three quarters of the office 41

Bomb dropped on Hiroshima

On Aug. 6, the day after Harold was settling in at his new hotel, World War II took a dramatic turn as a nuclear bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, killing between 90,000 and 146,000 people. Roughly half of the deaths occurred on the first day, but large numbers of people continued to die for months afterward from the effects of burns, radiation sickness and other injuries. Most of the dead were civilians, although Hiroshima also had a sizable military garrison. If Harold was aware of the event, it didn’t immediately show in his letters. On Aug. 6, he was still getting used to his plush accommodations in Marienbad.

Aug.6, 1945 My darling honeybun, This isn’t going to be long because it is nearly midnight and I must get to bed. Armstrong and I aren’t too good at waking with no one to initiate the awakening chorus for us. I refuse to blow a whistle in this place or have anyone else do it. We are pretty well settled now and beginning to luxuriate in our abode. Last evening, I attended with my master sergeant friend Lenear a USO show, the same one I had seen in Plana a few days ago. It was excellent and I could hear it over many more times and enjoy it each time. There were six gals, Americans, four of them luscious beauties, and two men. Four were vocalists and four instrumentalists – piano, cello, violin and flute. They were comparable to the senior students of a good college of music, or the semi professional level.

They were not the Grace Moore or Nino Martini, but they were good enough to be extremely enjoyable and they had a good sense that the above professional artists did not have to present a program everyone would enjoy, but yet, on a superior level.

We have been getting about one USO show a week. Many are quite good. Hope to get some mail today haven’t been very lucky for three days now.

Today should do it. All my love.

Harold Aug. 8, 1945 My sweetheart.

Today should be your birthday, if I remember correctly. I have thought about you, even though I was not present and hope you had a pleasant one. I received today a package from you, with a fruitcake, cigars, etc. It was excellent. Those are good cigars, too. Consider that it is a birthday cake, and I have it.

Master Sergeant Lenear, Wilson, Getz, Dave Burrell and I have already eaten half of it. A fruitcake is always welcome, so send me another when convenient.

They have pastry sometimes but never enough.

Cake, one layer, is occasionally prepared but

The Regina Palace Hotel where the AG took up residence and established their offices.

fruitcake is never served. I received another picture of Doug and Bonnie. The little gal looks so fat in it that I hardly recognize her. I like the rest of the pictures better.

You mentioned, my being here alone to run the division. You can almost say a true statement if you made a slight change. I’ll be the only, “old man” (not years dearie) left to run the division. All I do now is run around untangling tangles, lending a little authority here and there and instructing some greenhorn on his job. Coordinator. The troubleshooter. Or anything else you wish to name it. It is more interesting and not so routine as the old duty, so I’m satisfied.

News just came over the radio of Russia’s declaration of war against Japan. That is as good news as VE Day. I’m going to be a civilian some of these days and will become one of those dull civilians you dream about. I to dream honey, and that is exactly what I’m hoping for. All my love. Harold

Second atomic bomb hits Japan

On Aug. 9, a second atomic bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, Japan.

Aug. 9, 1945 Sweetheart, Everyone, including me, is very optimistic about the entrance of Russia into the conflict and the effect on shortening of the war. We heard the announcement over the radio this evening and have been most jubilant. It will most surely bring about an earlier cessation of hostilities. That and the atomic bomb business promises an early conclusion. I’ll even go so far as to predict settle42

ment of accounts in three months at the maximum. It could happen much sooner.

That would not mean my immediate return to the states by any means, but certainly would hurry it. There are a lot of guys ahead of me. We shall see.

It isn’t hard to be relatively happy and optimistic these days, since we are living under very favorable conditions.

Our food, since the first couple of days, The dining room at the Regihas been very good. na Palace Hotel.

We have adequate supply and the preparation is most satisfactory.

Received the Adrian College Bulletin Centennial Issue and found many interesting paragraphs therein. The Obee family had a good plug, although we were a bit outclassed by the fanfare of the Cairns.

That is to be expected, however, I’d like to hear old Tim Cairns speak publicly once. I’ve heard of his eloquence, so much. Paul Shaffer is listed among the dead in the Pacific. Mary A. Obee Cairns, in case you did not recognize it, is Annie, Dad’s oldest sister.

Tim Cairns married Annie Obee, the fourth child of John and Margaret Obee. He was a well-known Presbyterian pastor, serving in several posts before becoming the Superintendent of the New Jersey Anti-Saloon League. He traveled the country speaking in churches and in 1912 was a candidate for Congress. During the 1920s, he wrote a syndicated column for the Hearst Newspapers called Right Angles.

few months will probably seem like years. What a day that final one will be, you’ll have to help me adjust honey. I bet I’m going to be a terrific problem for you. It will take all of your knowledge of psychology to bring me around. You’d better read up on such things starting right away.

The Czechs are confiscating all German property these days which is not occupied by foreign troops.

They take it away from them force them to accept rooms, and in many cases, send them elsewhere to work, since this is not a rich agricultural area, and the harvest is ready for the gleaners.

In this town, the German stores are taken from their owners and sold or leased to Czechs. Before the war, Czechs comprised, but 10 percent of Marienbad, winter resident population of 6,000.

Rapidly, the place is filling with no-good Czechs, who think this is a get-rich area, and they have never been able to make anything elsewhere. I understand that the Czechs of Bohemia and Moravia are for the most part a higher level than those found in the Sudetenland.

Today it drizzled all day and has grown quite cold. The feather down comforter I have feels very good these nights.

Incidentally, women of this continent are not insulted by what we would consider rather immoral suggestions. There’s not the hush hush, blushing attitude towards sex with which we are familiar.

I have frequently seen small boys taking a leak on the street and illicit lovemaking is not greatly frowned upon. Chuck continues his running around and seems to enjoy it.

Your sweaters sound as if they would be very pretty. You may knit me a handsome blue one when I get out of the army.

There’s a break in this letter, and when it resumes, the handwriting is notably more sloppy and hard to read.

Honey, we’ve just had a party and I can hardly write but old Bill Getz and Dave Armstrong, and I resolved that there’s no women under creation like our wives, and despite all the German whores, we’re sticking by our women through thick and thin. They’re the best under creation and we will have nothing to do with any others. God bless you.

All my love, Harold

So, life goes on. Makes me feel old. Also makes me want to come home so I can put my arms around you, my love.

Harold Aug. 10, 1945 My sweetheart, The great news today is Japan is to offer to surrender if we will let the Emperor rule. We are conjecturing that the proffered treaty will be accepted on the terms that the Emperor remain as religious ruler only, shorn of all political and military power.

If that comes to pass, honey, I’m going to start planning on being out of the army in another 12 months. Just now that seems very soon, but the last

Japan surrenders

Having suffered two devastating atomic bomb attacks and knowing that an invasion of Japan was imminent, the Japanese agreed on Aug. 14 that they would submit to an unconditional surrender. Emporer Hirohito announced the surrender the following day.

43

yet. The greatest day of celebration is going to be the day we sail into New York Harbor. By the time I get there, they should have the system pretty well worked out and be able to process us quickly. Well, enough of such wishful thinking.

As to the Christmas presents, I have no suggestions at present. A portable radio is my only real desire, and I realize how hard that will be. Something you can send now is some brown shoe polish, two or three cans and some laundry soap, if now available. The cheapest old brown is OK. Send as much as soon as you can. That soap is really critical, now.

I guess it is perhaps for you, too. But, do what you can do. My love.

Harold

Aug. 14, 1945 Sweetheart, Wish you could have been with me this evening.

Bill, Dave and I walked down to the newly opened Red Cross Club, about a block from here, and played several rounds of ping pong. Dave beat me and I beat Bill. Then we went for a stroll down the street and wound up at a Czech cafe nightclub. It was a very nice place. High, vaulted ceiling, restaurant continental style, only not quite so formal.

The orchestra and dance floor were very good.

We sat and ate some ice cream, which tasted like face powder that had been whipped to a foam. Not bad. I missed you very much. It brought back the good old days of dances and parties and dates at the lake. Just makes me look forward with greater anticipation to the days when we’ll be able to do those things together again.

Good old Doug has started to cut teeth. By golly, he’s going to be a fine man someday, I betcha.

Probably be a loquacious devil. He doesn’t need to be precocious, but a good egg. By the way, I envy him and his 17 hours of sleep a day A kiddy car seems to me is too far advanced for the kid just now. I think a wagon would be much better. I hope you can get one. I’m afraid Doug needs his father.

News of Japan’s reply, having reached the diplomatic posts in Switzerland, has been on the air tonight. That’s wonderful news. Honey, the end of the war really means we’re on the road back. I won’t be there at home for several months but by golly, it’s a hell of a lot closer than it ever has been before. That’s a pleasant thought. As usual, it is about 11 o’clock, and I am just ready to go to sleep.

Had a hell of a time getting up this morning. I’m going to have to take an afternoon off and sleep.

Goodnight, sweetheart. Remember, I love you and love you and love you. Give Doug a big hug for his Dad, and tell him I’ll be home to pull him around in that wagon some of these days.

Harold

Aug. 17, 1945 My darling, I spent a very pleasant day today. I was on duty last night and hence up at eight this morning, despite the fact that the theater commander had declared it a holiday. I spent the morning doing a variety of small things. This afternoon, I took a very satisfying nap. And this evening spent some time conversing with Rudy. After that, Clay, Armstrong, Bill and I drank a bottle of Czech champagne, then donned our jackets and ties and went down to the Bellevue, where we sat on the edge of the dance floor and ate ice cream and watched the couples slide by. Now we are back again and I’m coming as close to sitting down and talking with you as I can. I tried to imagine you are really here and I can reach out and touch you. News on the radio suggests I’ll be home by springtime. Sounds awfully good. How good I cannot express. This life away from home is strictly no good – kaput as the Germans say The radio this evening said an attempt on the life of the American ambassador to Czech was made recently when visiting in Marienbad. He was our guest one day last week but I knew nothing of the conspiracy until now.

Glad old Doug likes the water. I want him to learn to swim as soon as he can. It’s foolish to be afraid of deep water at my age but my folks did instill that fear in me and since I couldn’t swim never overcame it completely. Goodnight sweetheart, all my love.

Harold

Aug. 15, 1945 Sweetheart, Today the great news came through officially -Japan has surrendered and the whole damn war is over. Now all we have to do is get home. Ha! Much easier said than done. 54 pointers aren’t going to be the first but by golly, they won’t be the last either.

We are to have the 17th as a holiday. There will be no enormous blow out but will stage a small one. Anyway, On VE day we didn’t hit the top because we knew we still had VJ Day to reach.

Now that the latter’s here, we still don’t feel super elated because we know we will be here a while

Aug. 18, 1945 My darling, Today is the second day of our holiday. The weather has been beautiful. I snapped some pictures and I hope to get some more tomorrow. I slept so late this morning I failed to get your letter written last night into the mail and none of my buddies thought to mail it.

44

The weekend in Columbus sounds like a good idea and the Richwood folks will I know be glad to see you.

I’d like to talk to some of those people who can’t stomach killing the Japs in such wholesale quantities. I guess they’d rather let them kill our men more and prolong the war. If killing them a few at a time is okay doing it enmass is just that much better. When the Japs came out with that answer that they’d surrender if we would let the Emperor continue to rule, we all said drop an atomic bomb on the palace and we will not have to worry about that proviso. Anything to end the war is our motto.

I’ll bet if some of those people had had a son or husband killed over there, they’d have a different attitude.

You’re going to have to fence our kid in on the lawn now that he can travel so fast. Three feet of chicken wire with good stakes and no gate should do the trick. The pool and road are too darn handy.

Since you have not mentioned it I presume the tooth cutting businesses is not destroying Douglas’ good humor. Will he get most of them in the next six months? Goodbye, my dear as always I love you with all my heart.

Harold Aug. 19, 1945 My darling’ Sunday evening has come, and our three-day holiday is now at an end. It has not been too pleasant today atmospherically since from noon on it has been cloudy and raining most of the time.

Saturday after our chow, Clay and Dave, Bill and I took a walk up to the Egerlander Cafe and snapped a couple of pictures, then took a look at the interior of the Russian church.

The site startled us. It was very small, standing elbow to elbow, there are no seats, not more than 75 could have been accommodated in front of the two doors you see in the center of the picture I sent you. There was a stand with a Bible of some kind, and candles on it. Kneeling here was an old priest with long hair and a beard who was praying. He was dressed in full robes and a crown-like head gear. He was assisted by two other priests regaled in stiff gowns which looked as if they were woven of gold. During the service, the doors were open, and showed a room which contained many holy symbols, pictures crosses and candles. When the service was over the priests all retired to this inner sanctuary and closed the door. The outer front, which is what you see in the picture, is a beautiful wall of elaborate workmanship. From where I was, I could not tell, but it appeared that the whole wall was inlaid with precious metals and lacquered squares of beautiful colors. I intend to return when a service is not in progress. And examine it closely.

The bathhouse in Marienbad, where mineral water is piped in from local springs.

Received a letter from mom in Cincinnati. She had no startling news but I guess, isn’t enjoying the daily illness too much. She has picked up a story of a soldier over here who was forced to contribute $5 a month to a company fund for entertainment, which included beer and German women. She asked me if I know of such practices. Such a thing may very easily be done somewhere. However, it is a strictly against Army regulations to force anyone to do such a thing.

To me, the most interesting thing would be to see you and Douglas within my reach. Love, Harold.

Recounting ocean voyage, Nuremberg

With censorship relaxed, Harold begins to recount his adventures, from the trip across the ocean, to the Army’s move into Germany.

Aug. 20, 1945 My darling, As I sit here with my slippers on and good music falling gently on my ear, I just had an excellent idea for Christmas. You can send me 500 feet or more of movie of you and Douglas, plus any of the family that you can get in. Film should be easy to get now that the war’s over. Now isn’t that an excellent idea? We have 16-millimeter projectors.

Maybe you can write a sob story to some radio manufacturers and get me a radio. Then, too, perhaps you could order a case of date bars or a round of cheese, or, honey, just write me 10-page letters every day for a week. See there are lots of things you could do.

I said I was sitting with my slippers on. I have in fact acquired some Russian shoes, not unlike 45

slippers in design, which are made of braided straw sewed together with string. The farmers wear them over a light slipper or a heavy sock. They are quite comfortable and just what I need to make me comfortable. It’s nice to get the boots off in the evening.

I have been forgetting to tell you some things.

The Palace of Justice, where the big court scenes are being conducted these days, is the building which housed us while we were in Nuremberg. It is enormous with countless rooms and offices and huge courtrooms. One had a life size picture of Hitler in all colors, hanging high above the floor over the bench. The basement of the building has several levels with complicated passages and hidden doors, some of which run for miles to connect with other buildings in the city and with the famous walled city. The CIC and MPs used to run raiding parties through them to catch hiding Nazis and SS lads who were hanging out in the labyrinth of underground tunnels and rooms. It connected underground with the Gestapo headquarters also. It was there I slept over a bomb one night, that is in the Hall of Justice.

I am also now permitted to tell you how we embarked. We pulled out of New York Harbor Feb. 4, landing at Le Harve in eight days. We had spent our time in the East at Camp Shanks. Our trip was made on the SS Hermitage, an Italian luxury liner converted to troop transport. It was the largest ship in our convoy, and was something like 500 feet long, a baby by comparison with one of the Queens, but enormous compared with Liberty ships which carried a lot of the men. We crossed to our ship from the camp via a Hudson River ferry boat the night before we left. Our convoys suffered no mishap, but the destroyer escort convoy we had dropped a dozen or 15 depth charges one day after we hit the English Channel and fired at distant planes which apparently were out on reconnaissance work. We hit some heavy fog in the channel and could not see the ships which were within 300 feet of us.

We were part of a huge convoy of supply and troop ships. I counted over 50 in one day, when it was clear, but I could not see them all since we were the flagship and we were close to the head of the convoy. It was a very interesting experience.

Time for bed.

Love, Harold

dence is in very good order, and I am quite proud of myself. I’m doing much better these days than many of my correspondents. That is indeed unusual.

Clay and I have been riding Getz unmercifully during over his “illicit” activities, as we call them.

He and a couple guys in the surgeon’s office met some gals who lived near their quarters. They proved very interesting to Bill and Bill went back a couple or three times, and when one occasion went out for a walk. Now Bill was in no sense unfaithful or with any such intentions, but Clay and I have ridden him so heavily, and made a mountain out of it so much, that Bill’s conscience is hurting him.

He’s afraid we do not understand and swears he never laid a hand on them or intended doing so. We tell him it looks darn queer when a one guy goes back night after night to see the same one, etc. And it goes into the night. We argue long and loud.

Bill finally told the gals that he wouldn’t be back.

And he feels terrible about it all. He won’t write his June, because “if you guys don’t understand, how can I expect my wife to?” He takes it so seriously.

We get an enormous kick out of it.

Armstrong then took the other side and said, we want to Bill to arrange a date for him. He decided that this “remaining true” was too boring and anyway it was getting cold and he needed a babe to keep him warm this winter. So I bolster Bill in his newly determined stand and berate Clay in his sudden downfall. Whenever one of us so much as smiles at a woman, anywhere, the rest pounce on him. I tell them I want to lay them all so Bill criticizes me for such a vile thoughts and claims I’m worse than he because his desires are entirely above board and clean. While mine aren’t. Nevertheless, I continue to criticize him. That’s the way it goes. It’s an eternal battle.

When you write anyone, don’t allude to this controversy of ours. It is all in fun and has no meaning.

Someone might add more to it than should be. Bill is a perfectly harmless and devoted husband, who is not happy unless he’s around women. He doesn’t flirt with them but he always enjoys talking. Back in Kansas he was out every night with his choirs and bands and is too nervous to sit in his room at night and read or converse. He has to be out and about. I must close now and tidy up a bit before leaving. All my love, Harold

Aug. 24, 1945 Sweetheart, The “old man” as we call Armstrong, and Bill and I are going to the movie this evening. Standing Room Only is the show. Haven’t seen a movie in at least three weeks, so I guess it’s time. Already I’ve written a big long letter to Grogan. My correspon-

Aug. 27, 1945 Sweetheart, While Bill is practicing on his newly acquired accordion, I’ll try to collect my thoughts and tell you the news of the day and acquaint you with what erudite observations I have to offer.

The principal news of the day is the announce46

ment of our early move to a point near Frankfurt.

We are due to clear this area by the 10th of August, turning over to another division. Our trip back into Germany is considered one step in our move to the port, although we are still not in receipt of alert orders, which would tell us exactly what personnel and when our readiness status. Until then, we’ll just have to sweat out this potential critical score for the theater of 45 and hope it remains. It is almost too good to be true but seems very possible.

Yes, I’ve reported on everything I have to say this day except that, which I always say, I love you.

Harold.

Aug. 31, 1945 Dearest, Life goes on as usual except very much more so. Things are really popping fast. This morning I thought I had it arranged to get all our “old” men on the quota of 200 low pointers allotted by the division. We would have had 12 out of 200.

Then I got a telephone call came saying we would take low point men only between 45 and 65. So, Getz, Armstrong and Wilson, among others cannot go along. Naturally that is discouraging for them to see others of us getting a good break, or at least likely to, while they do not.

It is impossible to tell how the roster will read, which is used for loading on that ship at La Havre.

We are starting to get beaucoup men from three or four other divisions to bring us up to strength before we sail. All our equipment is being turned in.

We’re transferring in and out so fast and reporting and this and that and preparing rosters so fast that the units are going crazy. We aren’t pushed so hard, but they certainly are down in the battalion.

This evening after helping take care of a 30-truck convoy of newly arrived men, I went to a Paul Robeson concert at the Opera House. I had been unable to get tickets due to a mixup, but I went anyway. Figured I’d get in somehow.

At the front door I saw everyone from Lieutenant Colonel’s on down being excluded if they had no tickets. So I said okay, and I went around to the stage door and walked in. Went past Robeson in the wings of the stage and proceeded out onto the hallway from where I could reach a balcony seat.

Made it okay until an MP spotted me and wanted to know why I had come out the stage door onto the hallway.

I explained that I had been unable to make it in the front door, so I had used the rear. He finally said okay go up to the next floor balcony. It was an excellent concert. You would have enjoyed it very much. He’s sang songs most of the time, such as Wagon Wheels, Swing Low, Old Man River and Joshua fit the battle. He also gave a reading. He indeed has a deep and powerful voice. Had I had an

The town square in Marienbad.

The view from Harold’s offices at the Regina Palace Hotel, looking down on the terrace off the dining room.

arranger when I was singing back in my younger days, I’d have rolled them in the aisles. His songs are all exactly in my range. Never did he have to stretch for the upper register as I used to.

Lawrence Brown his arranger and pianist also sang with him a couple of numbers. Then there was a staff sergeant who is a young piano virtuoso.

He played several very difficult piano solos most brilliantly. It was indeed an excellent program.

It seems I miss you most honey when I’m enjoying myself the most. Strange but true. This evening I wished so much you could have been here to hear Robeson sing.

One of these days, you and I will be able to go to hear such things together. If we’re lucky, it may be soon. A year ago tonight about this time, I was stopped by an MP in Fort Smith. Seems as if I didn’t salute or something. All my love.

Harold 47

Sept. 1, 1945 My darling, Today is Douglas’ birthday. It would have been nice to have been home for it. Hardly seems a year ago that I looked for the first time at him and saw such an ugly little mug and such spindly appendages. He’s a different boy now. As soon as I return home. I am in favor of having another. I think you could look upon the idea now without too much distaste, or even with pleasure? Whether you do or not I wish I were back where I could you tight and squeeze you with all my might.

I seem to have gone dry conversationally, so I’ll not bore you with further addling of no consequence. All my love, Harold.

feeling so miserable all week, especially the last few days. I went to the doctor where I had been doctoring but he could only give me pain tablets, because what I needed acted on the bowels and they were stirred up and I did not dare get them started. My back has been terrible. Remember, I was doctoring for the rheumatism in my leg, hip, and back before I went to Cincinnati. It was better and my leg and hip did not bother much anymore but my back did some when I went to Cincinnati.

I could not take any medicine because it acted on the bowels, so I had to just stand it. The pain tablets help some, but sort of, wear out or something because I must suffer terribly and cannot lie down at all because my back gets so much worse. I would have gone to see the doctor, again, although he said I should come back Tuesday or Wednesday of this week, but I didn’t think he was home. We tried to call him at his office twice and couldn’t get an answer and central said she thought they were away on vacation. It is almost impossible for me to get things done the last few days, so we decided to write Ellen and see if she could come down for a while. Thelma may have written, too. She said she thought she would write her, but don’t know if she did or not. Ellen said something about coming this month but hope it will not upset her plan.

The doctor said the treatments are very hard on one and takes a while to get built up after taking them. It is weakening, and it burns out the red blood cells so fast. And I was anemic before, so it was harder for me, especially as many treatments as it took. So, you see I am not much account right now. But I would get along if my back did not pain so terribly. And if I did not have so much gas in the stomach and bowels and have to be so careful about my bowels so as not to get them started -- it takes so little right now.

Dad and Pearl and Uncle Ward went to church last week, and Aunt May, uncle Edwin and Margaret are coming to visit the two families over the weekend.

We very much appreciated the cards, showing where you are. So glad you’re having it nicer than you did. That Engle name on the building may have been a descendant of some of our people who are relatives of ours. Our people came from Holland, but some could have easily gone there from Holland.

This is miserably written letter but maybe I can do better some other time. Dad has been working in the country most of the last week and again from Tuesday making soybean hay. He will have to do work at home this week. Dig potatoes. Get his chicken house finished. Cellar door done, etc. Then he wants to cut wood. We are not allowed as much coal as we used last year, and we’ll probably need it. So thought, if we could use wood this fall, may-

Sept. 2, 1942 My darling slept until 10 this morning. Then, dressed hurriedly and went to church. We have a German organist who plays so slowly, the congregation sometimes he gets three beats ahead of him.

Now that’s something!

This evening, Lenear and I went to hear the Ella Logan show. Some claim she’s 40 years old. If she is she’s damn well preserved. Looks at least 10 years younger. She has quite a line, very entertaining -- from the sublime to the ridiculous -- sort of, at Eddie Cantor style. Today the chief okayed our list of essentials and so, until someone issues some new orders, Wayne, Bill, and Clay are with me for return to the states. Now our next hurdle would be the port. We may all get jerked at the port, very possible. If we can make it however, we’ll have had a real break. That is, it will be unless we get back just in time to be redeployed to the Pacific.

We don’t care. We’ll take that chance. However, the boys are pretty happy. I just hope nothing happens to disappoint them or me.

Love, Harold.

Carrie says: “I suffer terribly”

On Sept. 2, 1945, aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo harbor, Japanese Emperor Hirohito signed the surrender of Imperial Japan, officially bringing an end to World War II, but the official surrender was not having much of an impact in Harold’s life, or in Richwood, Ohio, where his mother and father lived. There, on that same day, Harold’s mother wrote a letter and tucked it inside an air mail envelope with a red, 6-cent stamp that featured a picture of a B-17 bomber. She was not feeling well. Despite several trips to Cincinnati for treatment, she was struggling and in constant pain.

Sunday evening, Sept. 2, 1945 My dear Harold, I expect this will be short this time. I have been 48

be we could get along. Hope you are all right and keep well and get home soon since the war is over.

Love, Mom

16th.

I thought things were going too smoothly and well. to last quarter tells me. Corps tells us, only the very low pointers below 45, may be among the 200 essentials. Apparently, they want to take back to the states now only those due to be discharged in the next few months and the ones eligible to go to the Pacific or back here. Well it was nice thinking about it. The matter is still not entirely settled, but probably will not change my status in the final analysis.

We have not been authorized to add the eight points accumulated since VE day. If we were, I’d have enough to allow me to accompany the division. So I’m wondering if authority to recompute our scores will come through in time to save me.

I doubt it. My status has changed several times in the last two weeks and may some more in the next weeks. God only knows what will happen 10 days from now -- the army doesn’t! When my disposition becomes more final, I will let you know.

My mail included three from you, one from one from Kate, and one from Mom. Mom certainly is not doing well. I swear every part of her body has some deficiency, except her brain.

Kate writes of a trip to Niagara Falls. Says it is truly a beautiful place and recommends we go there sometime. How about it, Honey? Do you think you and Doug would like a little trip there someday?

Your reference to a fried egg sandwich made my mouth water. Gosh, I’d enjoy one right now on some good old American bread instead of this heavy stuff we get here from the quartermaster bakeries overseas.

Well, my dear, I guess that’s all for tonight. Wish I had you to snuggle up against tonight. I always go to sleep trying to imagine you are here with me.

Those are the sweetest dreams I can conjure up.

Give Socko a hug from his dad and tell him to be a good boy until I get home. All my love, Harold

Patton comes to visit

Back in Marienbad a few days later, Harold was still busy counting his points, hoping to make the cut for an early trip home. He passed the time working at his job, taking in some local entertainment and on Sept. 5, had the opportunity to see his commanding general, George S. Patton.

Sept. 5, 1945 My dear, As usual, I’m sweating it out as the GI says.

While you are in the army, you’re always sweating something out. A furlough. A promotion. A transfer or something else. Today the picture is the same as yesterday. I’m still not going with the division unless they recompute our points and I get eight more of them.

Anyway, today I had the great honor of seeing George Patton. The old fossil made a speech to the troops. It was very poor, as speeches go. The old fossil had prepared, nothing, but he’s quite a showman when he cuts loose with one of his vile, and profane expressions. And everyone laughs. He just stands there, smiles as pleased as punch. He just shows off like a six-year-old kid. One thing he said was true.

He said, wars are not started by soldiers who have seen Bastogne. They are started by “waffle-assed chair sitters who don’t know what a hell of a thing war is.” He started his speech by saying “many of you men have faced death and told him to kiss your ass. By God, that’s something.” He’s an incorrigible kid, but an interesting and most colorful fellow.

Traded two candy bars today for a roll of film.

It takes candy or cigarettes, one pack, to get film.

Since cigarettes are worth at least $1.50 per pack, you can see what we pay for it. Good night, honey.

Love Harold

Sept. 9, 1945 Sweetheart, This has been a perfect Sunday in fall --bright and cool. The leaves are beginning to turn just a bit here and there. I got up just in time to make it to 11 o’clock church. This afternoon I spent part of my time working and in part listening to Mr. Warner shout over long distance telephone lines two Corps and army trying to find out info about our move, re-computation of points, etc. He received no satisfaction on any score, so I guess I’ll be transferred all right this week to some corps unit. I’m hopeful that it will be to one which is scheduled for early return to the states. When I know exactly what I am to do, I’ll let you know.

The Czechs got themselves in our bad graces

Depressed about the constant changes in who will be transferred and who can go home, and despite constantly saying he never counts on anything, the chaos around who can go and who must stay weighs on Harold.

Sept. 7, 1945.

My darling, Yesterday I did not write. I spent the evening out, had nothing to write, had received no mail and was in no mood to think up anything. Today is a different story. I have six letters and bad news to relate.

I live in a distinctly day by day existence since things can change so rapidly and so easily. Today’s bad news is that my status has changed, and I am no longer scheduled to return to the states with the 49

again. The German congregation which has permitted our use of the church building, and has been very cooperative, were told last night by the Czechs at nine o’clock that they could no longer use the church. And this morning, the Czechs confiscated our German organist, who had arrived early from Plan to try out the organ and told him to play for their 10 o’clock service. The local German pastor has been accorded a great deal of respect by the Czechs of this town who have permitted him to go without the armband which distinguishes the Germans. The Czechs which ousted him and his congregation are not from Marienbad. That’s the way it goes. Every Czech group has a different idea and does not hesitate to do as they please. Also, today the Czechs and the Russians were cementing relations with a public meeting in the Schillerplatz [a square in the old city center of Stuttgart, Germany]. The Czech national anthem was played. The chaplain observed an old bent over German man walking along the sidewalk. Probably deaf. He was almost blind. Because he did not stop and salute, a Czech civilian ran over and grabbed his hat off, slapped him in the face several times and knocked him down. These damn people on this continent will never get along, I swear. They’ll always have grievances and will always have something to fight about. A strong foreign guard will be the only way to keep war away.

My love, Harold.

get in this setup, I will be assigned to duty with the Rec Center. I think it will work out. It will be an excellent deal, better than anything else I can think of around here. I don’t want to go to the Corps headquarters if I can help it. They are a lousy outfit.

L.B. Bottoms just arrived this evening from the Third Army. He has been transferred back to go home with the division, due to being 38 years old.

Wish I were. I only feel like it.

All my love, Harold Sept. 17, 1945 My darling, This evening I am writing as the manager of the Regina Palace Hotel for the XXII Corps Recreation Center. The Division pulled out today and left us behind. I expect to be transferred somewhere within 30 to 60 days for shipment to the states.

Everything is very confused. No one knows what is going to happen.

Today I drew rations for our crew down here. 32 civilians and 12 soldiers. We have an officer, but he is never around, tells me to do as I please and if necessary use his rank and tell him later. He’s okay. I have had two or three conferences with my manager and assistant manager today. The most pleasant however was the one with the owner and his wife this evening. When they invited me to their rooms for some schnapps, it turned out to be 10-year-old cognac, however, which is hardly schnapps. They know a little English and with a few words of German I know, and considerable pantomime and grimaces, we managed to make ourselves understood. He is a regular clown, anyway so it comes easy. I’m invited back tomorrow night. I am now treated with great deference by all the civilian personnel. They cannot do too much for me.

Good night, all my love, Harold.

Taking over hotel management

While their offices have been located in the Regina Palace Hotel, a management shakeup is moving AG duties elsewhere and making some of the remaining AG men recreation center managers and Harold pulls a string to become manager of the Regina Palace Hotel.

Sept. 14, 1945 My darling, Today has been somewhat eventful. A deal was cooked up to give all us old AG men who are being left behind a nice job. The 22nd Corps recreation center which has been at Pilsen is being moved to Marienbad and is taking over all the facilities of our rec center, plus a few more.

One of our majors is in charge and wants all of us who aren’t ordered out by name elsewhere to stay with him to help run the hotels and facilities.

They have plans to take over this hotel, although the Rec Center and corps are bickering over which one should have it. Each thinks he has it all sewed up. I know the major well, and so called him and asked that I be made manager of this hotel. He said, Okay, so I am unless the artillery takes it away from us. If they do, I’ll have some other job, maybe another hotel. A few days should tell the tale. If I

Sept. 23, 1945 My Dear, Almost every evening we have had been invited to the owner’s rooms here for 10-year-old cognac, 20-year-old wine, etc. It is the European method of giving favor and privileges. This afternoon we are going horseback riding. The division went through Camp Lucky Strike where the 89th is. I dare say Don has been looking for me if he is there.

My love, Harold Sept. 23, 1945.

My darling. This has been a hard week. I’ve slept until nine o’clock three mornings, work three to four hours each day, if you can call it work, and 50

relax the rest of the time. Today was Sunday, so we did nothing but sleep late, eat a delicious one half a spring chicken dinner with cake and banana ice cream, go out to the golf hotel and ride the horses for an hour.

We have steak at least twice a week together with ice cream and cake. It’s a rugged life. Since I am in charge of this hotel, the management and employees treat me with a great deal of deference.

They fix things especially for me and bow and give me every courtesy. Typical European style. We do the manual work in getting ready for our guests.

Just supervise and think up things. We should have guests here in about one week, and we’ll run it just like a hotel.

This week I drew a clarinet from our headquarters office special service supplies. I’ve had a lot of fun playing around with it. Haven’t played so much since 1938. Getz’s accordion accompanies me sometimes. It’s quite a concert. I am surprised they can still do so well. Occasionally play the piano, too. I’m anxious to get hold of some of my old music.

This week I also traded my ill-fitting boots and $5 for a pistol. It is in fair condition and I got a bargain, considering current barter values. It is a British pistol. I had wanted a German one but had been unable to effect a trade.

I refused to pay the $30 or $50 or even $100 they want, and all the pistols bring straight cash. Deals on a pistol are very much in demand everywhere, and money is cheap, even American, because there are few places to spend it. I could get $25 to $50 anytime for a carton of cigarettes in the black market. If I sold our rations for one day, I’d get $5,000 or $10,000 for it.

I still hope to be situated where I can have a horse to ride. It is an excellent sport, which I’d really like to go in for. Tell your dad to save me a little grain because I’ll be out of the army sometime this winter and I expect to get a nag soon.

I think I may still make it home by Christmas.

Maybe not, but there’s an excellent chance. The news, relative to an early return, is very good these days. I imagine you are either in Richwood now, or home having been there recently. Hope so. Hope mom is getting along OK. The 89th is due for return in October or November, so maybe Don will be along. He can’t have many points, though, so might get left behind for a few months. How many does he have? I can’t remember when he came into the army. As a guess, I’d say he might have 40. I don’t know how many battle stars the 89th received.

I guess this will do for this evening. I had a hard day so must get to bed.

All my love, Harold

Carrie loses her fight with cancer

At her home in Richwood, Ohio, Harold’s mother Carrie struggled with the ailments she described in a letter to her son just three weeks earlier. Her back pain was terrible.

Pain pills were of little effect.

As a mother, she doted on her two boys, encouraged their church going and worried about their fates. Now at 67 years old, she had only a few breaths left.

On Sept. 25, 1945, with her one remaining son still in Europe in the wake of World War II, Carrie Epler Obee passed away after a six-month fight with cancer. Her body was taken to Whitehouse, Ohio near the Obee family homstead, and she was buried in plots near her inlaws.

Ellen wrote to Harold and tried to send a message through the American Red Cross, but messages in Europe at the end of the war often took days or even weeks to reach their destination. Adding to the confusion was the massive reassignment of soldiers to different units and transfers from camp to camp. As a result, when Harold woke on Sept. 25, 1945, he had no idea his mother was gone. He wouldn’t get the news for weeks.

Sept. 25, 1945 Sweetheart, I was dragged out of bed this morning at the unearthly hour of 7:30 with the info that the laundry woman was downstairs with some laundry. We had some difficulty with two bundles we had given to other than our regular laundry woman. This other woman had been so slow in returning the two bundles I sent to the manager and his wife out to find out what the reason was for the delay. They told me this morning that they had told her if it was not here by 8 a.m. this morning I would have the police after her. That did it. The laundry was here. These Germans all have great fear of the Czechs.

Several of our boys were transferred today to Corps. But whether they will have to go there or can continue to work here we do not know yet.

Haven’t much hope though.

The 80th infantry just moved in to take over the area so I dropped in on the AG section to see if I could not pass on to them some blank forms the 16th left behind. I found them a very decent outfit.

And tomorrow, we’ll unload on them what I have.

That will clean up the minor duties left to me by the 16th.

This afternoon we spent seeing that the lounge and game room were put into proper order. We could be ready for guests in two days easy now.

However, they are not due to arrive until a week from today. Also went over the building from top to bottom counting beds. We put three in a double room, and two in a single and pointed out discrepancies here and there to the owner who accompanied me. Our capacity is 135. It will seem strange to have that many guests when for a week we’ve had none.

51

No mail has filtered through channels yet. I’m surely going to get a lot, if it ever catches up to me.

Meanwhile, honey, I love you with all my heart and I can hardly wait until those orders come through that will get me on the way home. Give Doug a squeeze for me. Love, Harold

Now, I’m willing to bet any amount that the bottle came out of the owners own stock, and they are using this method to attempt to ensure she’s keeping her room here. The old schemers.

I assure you it will have nothing to do with the final outcome. If we need the space, we’ll take it. I always feel insulted by apple polishers of any kind.

As if I could not see through them. I’ve often been in a position to do things for people, and have been offered as high as $1,000 upon one occasion to work some shady deal.

Good night and sweet dreams. One of these days you’ll be able to reach out as you go to sleep and feel me there beside you. Until it actually happens, we’ll both dream about it and look forward to it.

These last few months are going to drag, I am afraid. All my love. Harold

Sept. 25 1945.

My darling. This is the second letter today. I wrote yesterday’s letter before the mail this afternoon.

I have told you of the difference paid me by these people here because I am in charge. Today, I was given a beautiful overstuffed bedroom chair for my room. And tonight is the first since we took over that I have not been invited down the hall to the owner’s rooms for a drink.

One night, the lieutenant and I were in for a drink and they served a new one on us -- rum and eggs.

I don’t like rum normally, but this was delicious.

They break a raw egg in a glass of rum. Then add a spot of wine and liqueur and that is it. Egg white mixes with rum, and is very tasty. In the bottom is the whole yolk, and on the last swallow it goes down whole. You’d be surprised how good it really is.

Our Major was down the other day and said, we had to house 150 men and that the civilians living here would have to move out, as well as our GI staff. He finally decided 135 would be enough. So we’re going to keep the GIs here and hope he does not find out. We have room now for 135 guests and 15 GI staff men.

The owner did not want us to move any of the civilians out, especially our seamstress which, as far as we can figure out, is and has been for years, the old boy’s mistress.

To have one is quite the custom on this continent.

We have run into many instances over here, and marital status has nothing to do with it. It seems to be quite commonly accepted by even those who are being thus spurned.

He swore he could get in 150 beds, without ousting anyone. And he has. When I saw he wasn’t fixing her room for guests. I mentioned it, and he said it was not necessary since he had the 150 beds required by the major without doing so. So far we have let it ride.

Something else ties in with this. I had upon one occasion, asked our old boy to get me some wine.

He has a lot of connections, plus plenty of his own. So I approached him on the subject. He said, maybe. Then yesterday, he comes to me with a story that the seamstress had gotten some for me. I smelled a rat immediately. Tonight she gave me a bottle of five-year-old wine and refused to accept any payment for it at all.

Sept. 29, 1945 Sweetheart, It is almost chow time, but I’ll try to get this off before.

Every night someone from one of the hotels has to drive the major who is in charge of the rec center around to the various hotels and clubs we run and the opera house. Last night it was our turn, and I pulled my name out of the hat. So at 1900, I picked him up and went to the opera house and stood around backstage for about an hour, then went to the officer’s club, the Panorama, had a glass of rum and coke with some of my buddies up there and just before I left some hot wine and cloves on the house. I took the old major, an A&P butcher, before the war, and a horse’s ass during the war, back to the Bellevue. On the way down a narrow roadway I could not resist driving close to a long row of wet bushes giving him a good shower. “God damn Obee,” he said, “you’re too close over here.” to which I just laughed out loud. I’ve known him since June of 1942 and have no respect for him at all. We finally wound up at midnight by my taking him and a babe to his hotel. It was wet and cold and beyond my bed hour, so I was not sorry to get into bed.

You know I’m looking forward to two things, or three, perhaps, relative to bed in the States. One is, of course, sleeping. A second is waking up to find Doug climbing all over me and yelling in my ear. The third is going to bed and putting my arms around you and holding you close to me, and listening to you tell me you still love me. I know you do but it will be very nice to hear it once more. I can’t wait to get into Doug’s good graces and to let him know he’s got a dad that loves him, too. A few months more and I’ll be doing all of those things and so much sooner than I expected a year ago that I can’t be too unhappy. All my love, Harold 52

Camp Boston, outside Reims, France was one of several redeployment camps set up after the end of World War II to manage the reassignment of troops in Europe.

Oct. 1, 1945 Pilson, Czech.

Sweetheart, My status changed very rapidly yesterday. I suddenly got instructions to report from the rec center to headquarters preparatory to accompanying them on the trip home. So, I busily tied up loose ends at the Regina Hotel, and this morning came up here to Pilsen. We are going to Camp Boston near Reims tomorrow, reportedly to sit until the 20th of October, and then move to the port, probably Le Havre.

I wonder if I’ll make it this time? 60 pointers may be held for a little longer, never can tell. In any event, don’t write anymore until I give you further instructions. I’ll write when I have a chance and keep you as well informed as possible.

Keep your fingers crossed. I may make it this time. Give Socko my love, and of course, I always have lots for you, too.

Harold

30 miles from Reims. We spent three days enroute riding 18 men to a 40x8 -foot boxcar. Fortunately, we had a few army cots, and I was the ranking man so, you can bet I had one.

The chow was good so I would not have minded the trip except for the cold. We slept with our clothes on with two blankets but froze our asses off as well as some of our important appendages. It has been nearly as cold here. Actually it’s not too cold, but it’s that damp coldness of Northern France that is so unpleasant. They have had me working in personnel all day. And this evening, I also had a clothing and equipment check and had to give up my old dispatch case -- that hurt me. As soon as we are completely checked, we’ll be ready to go to the port.

Love, Harold Oct. 7, 1945 Camp Boston My darling, Today is Sunday and I have done nothing but sleep late, go to church and write letters. Got one off to Don and Aunt Pearl. Expect to write one to the folks as well. I still have received no mail since Sept. 15.

According to the Stars and Stripes, 60 pointers are not supposed to leave the theater before the end of November at the earliest.

When I left Marienbad so suddenly, I had to leave several unfinished deals in the hands of others. One was some pictures which I had taken. I left instructions to have them sent to you. If there are some you think the folks who would like, please

On the road home

To drive from Pilsen to Reins, France today would take about nine hours, but in 1945, the trip out of Czechoslovakia, across Germany and in to France, past farms and fields, took three days by train with GIs packed in unheated box cars. But Harold reports he managed the trip.

Oct. 6, 1945 Camp Boston Sweetheart, Well, here we are at Camp Boston in the assembly area command, near Suippes, France, which is 53

send them to them. Also, I left a bundle in the hands of another to mail for me. It is my $8 Tucker Duck and Rubber purchase. Plus, Wilson’s, which he was discarding. It has served its purpose well and it’s worth spending $1 to send them back. They should arrive, eventually.

Also, the night before I left, I purchased a vase from the owner of the hotel Regina. He will pack it for me, and the lieutenant will send it to you.

If one of my friends is able to buy some wood carvings in a nearby town, he will enclose them in the vase. The vase is to be a Christmas present for you, so don’t open it. If it gets home before I do, if I see that I will not make it by Christmas, I’ll send instructions relative to it and to the other two boxes I mentioned sending about three weeks ago.

It is about the size of the one we got your folks one Christmas. I hope it arrives okay for it as a beauty.

I finished spending all the money to my name that same night before I left by leaving $35 with the lieutenant for a clock, which the hotel owner believes he can get for me from a friend of his beyond Prague. It is an elaborate affair with Swiss works, and his friend’s handicraft Czech metalworking. I’m not sure whether it will materialize or not. If not, the lieutenant will send me the money at home. That should make, if I’m lucky, another package. I may end up, due to mail mix up and transfers in my getting neither the clock or the money, but decided it was worth the risk. If it materializes, I think we’ll call it Douglas’ but we’ll use it until he wants to take it away from us. It should be a very fine item of Czech workmanship. Wish I had found out about all this a bit sooner.

The Army is getting more screwed up every day because not one man in 25 anymore gives a damn whether he does his job right or not. It is very disgusting. Everybody tries to do as little as possible. Most of the men who were conscientious during the war have quit work completely except for what they are forced to do now. When I have something given to me I do it as well as I can and I don’t stretch it out over several times as much time as it should take. There are damn few who remain as conscientious as I and the ones who are more so are almost nonexistent.

I send you, my sweetheart, all my love, and remind you, I can’t get home too soon because I love you very, very much.

Harold

did not have French citizenship. After the liberation of France in 1944, Laval fled to Spain but was soon deported back to France, where he was arrested by the French government under General Charles de Gaulle. Laval was found guilty of plotting against the security of the State and collaboration with the enemy, and after a thwarted suicide attempt, he was executed by firing squad in October 1945.

Harold was paying attention to the politics, and he talks about Laval in this letter.

Oct. 8,1945, Sweetheart, Last night I slept quite well. Was pretty warm.

Had five blankets!

This morning we went to post headquarters to have our records checked by the Inspector General.

We passed through in an hour and that’s all we did today, officially. I hung around the personnel office the rest of the morning reading Stars and Stripes and shooting the bull. This afternoon I dosed in the sun near all afternoon. It’s a hard life but not very satisfying. We would give up our indolence and easy life for a chance to work our way back to the States The reaction to Patton’s transfer to the 15th army is very interesting. Most soldiers despise the man and call him all kinds of names now. Some give him credit for being a good offensive tactician, which is probably his best element. Once crediting him with that, they cuss him out for everything else. Little love is wasted on the man.

The Laval trial is certainly an interesting one.

France will forever turn out historic trials, it seems.

French and American jurisprudence seems somewhat different. It’s a shame Laval does not continue attending. It would add so much to the interest and procedure. I feel he hasn’t used all his aces yet, somehow. I think he’ll get a continuance of his trial after the French elections. Maybe not, but he’s a crafty operator.

Naturally, my thoughts often dwell on what I do when I get out and what we will do. And I even caught myself looking eagerly in Esquire to see if my clothes were entirely out of style. I was encouraged by my perusal and tried to remember if you had ever done anything with my damn old pinstripe. I hope so.

I’d like to get away for a couple weeks, at least to some place where we could be by ourselves. In the winter I hardly know where to suggest. Maybe you’ll have some ideas. And before we starve, I’m going to have to find some kind of remunerative occupation. The government pays only $75 a month and tuition to the veterans returning to school with a wife and one child. That is hardly enough. Anyway, I don’t know that I want to go back to school. I’m going to look around a bit, in and out of the educational business, of that I am

Tracking current events

Among the postwar developments was the trial of former French prime minister Pierre Jean Marie Laval. While France was occupied by the Nazis, Laval served as the head of government in France from April 1942 to August 1944.

The collaborationist government provided French laborers for Germany and organized the deportation of Jews who 54

sure. I am also sure that despite these nine months of separation, I still love you. And if you feel the same way, as I’m sure you do, figuring out what to do will be a lot easier.

Harold

that a brilliant comparison? I came to the service club to get warm but find that it is no help unless you are within five feet of the stoves.

I have been wondering if you are carrying out tentative plans made last Christmas to have a picture of Doug on our Christmas cards. I hope so.

Some of the snaps already taken would be suitable with some of the useless space in the print cut out, and you have some pictures I believe which I have not seen. It occurred to me recently that if I get back in time, maybe we could invite your parents for a joint trip to Louisiana to see the Mardi Gras, or does shortage of tires preclude that? That might be a good opportunity while I am not yet returned to employment of a civil nature.

Eating has become a chore again. While in the Regina, it had always been a pleasant activity, but here we get the usual GI chow. Mail has been coming in for two days now but more for the new men of the battalion.

All my love, Harold

Oct. 10, 1945 My sweetheart, Today was a hard day. I got an influenza shot and did my laundry. The latter I hated, as usual. Don’t ever ask me to help do the family wash. The flu shot is experimental. It’s the first time the army has used mass shots to prevent flu. They hope it works.

Probably we’ll all get colds from it.

This outfit has a lot of battle veterans, and the stories they tell are terrific. In many the narrative is about someone screwing up on the job. Most say that we won the war because we didn’t do anything logically. We’re so confused, we confuse them.

That I don’t doubt. They tell of officers ordering men out on suicide jobs they themselves would not go on and court marshaling them when they sometimes refused for disobeying an order in combat.

It’s going to be so nice to be back home with you. Looks as if I’d be eligible for a discharge by the time I get back. Your folks are liable to have a son-in-law to support before many months. Tell them they had better be thinking it over. All my love, Harold

Oct. 17,1945 Sweetheart, Just come from a long walk around the post.

There’s practically nothing to see, I discovered, except barren wasteland and evidence of this having been a battlefield many months ago. The boys were telling stories last night, a couple will be of interest to you.

As to the Battle of the Bulge, there has been much conjecture as to whether the Allies planned it that way at all. The truth of the story is this: the First Army found themselves against a stone wall and hard put to hold their ground. They requested a fake attack in the Belgium area to at least hold in that area the German troops already there, and if possible, draw a few down from the north. A counter-attack in the Belgium area would be okay since it was thought the American troops were equal to the counter attack as well. They sent skeleton crews of seasoned outfits into the area and put numbers of green outfits in their vehicles to make the Krauts think it would be a soft area.

The Germans did as they had hoped, but that is where the Allies were fooled. They counter attacked in such force that the Allies were caught off balance, although they finally succeeded in stemming it. And the final result was a victory for the Americans and a chance to break through and bring a much earlier conclusion to the war.

I have been wondering if cigars are once more available in quantity? The grade of cigars we get at this camp is very poor. I’m hoping to find some good ones, at least by the time I hit the states.

Incidentally, I slept all morning. Very enjoyable recreation. That’s it for now, all my love, Harold

Oct. 11, 1945 Sweetheart, I was going to go to church this morning but didn’t get wide awake until too late -- 1100. To top it off, I slept all afternoon. Honestly, I don’t know how I do it.

No mail today. If my letter yesterday, and so far this one, seems pessimistic, don’t let it worry you.

It’s just that being so far away and out of communication makes me want to consider the worst and tell you what I think. Now, I’ll hope for the best.

No news on our return. I don’t really expect it to start popping for about 30 days for us. That seems like an age and a couple eons, but I guess we can stand it. I’m about one or two years early anyway.

Good night, sweetheart. I’m going to bed and will dream you’re right beside me. That would be perfect. All my love.

Harold

Oct. 14, 1945 Sweetheart, My writing is a bit unsteady not because of drink (damn it) but because I’m cold. The last two or three days have been sunny France’s best, but today the cold and fog closed in on us again and we are shivering like standing corn in December. Ain’t 55

Oct. 17, 1945 My darling, I am sitting in the service club, where I plan to spend the afternoon. There are comfortable chairs to sit in here, which my tent lacks. I plan to read, write a letter or two and maybe play the piano and a little ping pong. An ideal way to spend an afternoon if you and Doug were with me. Since I do this every afternoon, I must say it could stand some improvement.

Someday I hope I’ll have a job which doesn’t take my evenings much, and I can then play around some with some civic theater and choral groups, perhaps take a course in interpretive reading and a survey course in art and architecture. I don’t think I’d ever be happy living very far away from a large city.

In my study, I’d like to have a large floor model of the world which has a light on the inside. That brings to mind travel. I certainly want to take you and the “kids” around the US and a couple trips abroad at least. A trip to South America via our own automobile and to Europe via Robert’s plane.

Of course, it may take a few years to accomplish all this. But my dreams are not for 1946 alone. But for a lifetime. It may take a few dollars, too. Guess I’ll have to join a union and become a factory man so I can afford all this.

Regardless of the extent to which these dreams come true. I’m going to enjoy what we do because I’ll have you along with me. That’s my best dream.

All my love, Harold

A cache of letters & ominous news

Nearly a month after his mother died, Harold finally gets bunch of letters, among them a letter from Ellen describing his mother’s precarious health. Also in that stack of letters was the one his mother sent in early September describing her intense discomfort. It would be the last letter he would receive from her.

Oct. 20, 1945 My sweetheart, Today my mail finally caught up with me. In part, as you know, some of my premonitions were verified. I was not surprised to read what you had written, as I was not surprised when at Camp Chaffee, we got the long-distance call from Dad. Nevertheless, it certainly leaves one with an empty feeling around the stomach. The long planned efforts to do some things for Mom will apparently be to no avail.

I have often wished I had been born 10 years sooner. And now more than ever.

Your last one was dated September 24 with eight pictures, which I appreciate greatly.

Honey have no doubt in your mind you have done exactly as I would have wished you to. I certainly want to know exactly what is going on, regardless of how unhappy the facts. When the mail will reach me addressed to the 953rd, I do not know. Being out of rapid communication is most unsatisfactory. Unless the doctor recommends my presence for morale purposes, I doubt very much if my return to the states can be hurried, maybe not even then, since the Army red tape in most routine emergency cases is torturously slow.

The Army postal system in New York apparently has my new address, since it was they who forwarded all this mail to me.

Since I do not know how conditions are now, I cannot very well advise you as to what to do. Go ahead and do as you think best. I’m sure it will be what I would want. You certainly know my mind and opinions by now, if anything should happen after you receive this, you can be assured that I always favor the simplest and quickest way possible.

Even though you may expect me momentarily, do not hold up anything that needs to be done on my account. That will perhaps be hard for some members of the family to understand but try to explain. I know you understand my feelings on the subject.

If your presence in Richwood is of any assistance, I’d certainly take Douglas along and leave him with someone during part of the day. It may make him unhappy at first, but it won’t hurt him any at all, and will be a great deal of satisfaction to you.

Events such as these come in everyone’s life and are certainly hard to take, but just as inevitable.

Rather than have a long and painful existence,

Oct. 18, 1945 Sweetheart, I’m sitting by the fire in our tent, my bunk has suddenly become the most popular spot in the tent. It’s the one closest to the fire.

This afternoon I played ping pong and took it easy. Oh yes, also played volleyball in the morning.

The evening was spent watching half a basketball game. It seems a lifetime since I saw a game back at old St. Bernard. Last evening after writing you I wrote a letter which I owed to Kate. I have only two more. Not getting mail certainly solves the correspondence question, except for you and the folks.

I am rather anxious for word from the folks.

Any one might carry bad news about Mom. I don’t know how she is. And she could go any day and I am sure, for any of a dozen reasons. The same can be said for everyone else, but not nearly so likely.

I’ll be glad to be once more in communication.

I turned down a 12-hour pass to Paris today. Half of the time would have been spent in an unpleasant truck ride. I’m in line for the 60-hour pass to Paris.

That would be worthwhile.

All my love, Harold 56

I certainly hope Mom will not last long. To be helpless for any length of time would be harder on Mom than an earlier death would be on us. She is just not built for the life of uselessness. If you can give her something to do at least a little, even though it may not be too good for her, she’ll be much happier and perhaps even last longer. Her mind will be more at ease and her spirit higher if she feels she is of some use.

Speaking of uselessness, I cannot but feel she may already have gone. Honey, remember that it means more to me than anything else to have you to count on. My mind is so much more at ease knowing you are on hand or call, and that you understand, and sympathize with my own thoughts.

Your love for me is at all times is leveling force, and something to hang on to come what may. I can’t very well express in words all that I am feeling tonight. but I’m sure you will understand. I’m tonight writing a letter to Thelma and to the folks. I hope that my fears are ill grounded.

Sweetheart, I’ll be home just as soon as I possibly can. I know the life you recount is not a very pleasurable one and I appreciate no end what you have done.

Remember, I love you more than anything else in the world.

Harold

the way it stands. I surely hope all my fears are to no avail, but it is hard to be optimistic. I know too well her condition.

As I said, two days ago. If possible, do not let her feel useless, give her something to do, if you can.

When I wrote the folks, I told mom to do as you dad Thelma and Pearl told her, so she’d be well and on her feet by Christmas when I am home. I don’t like to set Christmas as a goal for my homecoming, because for so many reasons it might not materialize. But I have to use some goal and I really should be home before that unless events really go against me. Except for mom’s sake, I have not really felt too badly about missing the boat, because I have been ahead of schedule. If I don’t make it in December, I’m going to be good and mad because then I’ll be behind the schedule.

I probably should not allow this but if that long box about eight by eight by 38 inches arrives before I do, you may open it just to reach down along one side to pull out an envelope with some new pictures of me. That’s as far as you may go.

They should be easy to find, without going further.

I had not mentioned them before because I thought I might arrive almost as soon as they. They should beat me now. All my love, Harold Oct. 23, 1945 Sweetheart.

Honey, this has been a lovely day except for the annoyance of a flapping tent. The sun was out, although partially cloudy, and it was very warm shirt sleeve weather. But what a wind. It blew so hard all day that I was utterly unable to keep my wash on the line. No clothespins of course. Made me think of the traditional American picture of the girl standing at the top of a windswept hill dress and hair flying in the gale. I just fitted you into the picture and there in my imagination was my honey, almost within reach. Gee, how I’d like to have run up and grabbed you by the arm. Honest, sweetheart. I did think all of that just as I have written. You know, a month never used to seem very long when that was all that was left of a vacation. This is just like a vacation, no work at all. Going to Paris on Saturday.

Would you believe it? And to Reims soon, I guess.

They had a lecture today extolling the benefits of reenlistment. I spent my time in the service club instead. I’m not interested!!! I went on a stroll and took some pictures of a picturesque chapel erected during the last war on the edge of the Russians soldiers’ cemetery.

Incidentally, has Doug had his one-year physical exam? From his pictures I believe he could just about knock the doc down and examine him.

I can’t get over the size of his legs as shown in the picture of you and he on the steps of Fort Wayne

Oct. 22, 1945 My darling, Not a single letter was delivered to the battalion today. Hence, I have no more news. I read in Stars and Stripes that mail was taking three weeks to go back to the states. I hope that is not true. Everyone wonders what has become of the Air Force, both for flying of mail and of personnel.

According to reports, this Navy armada is due the middle of November, so maybe I’ll get one of those. It’s three or four weeks off and too damn long, but I guess I’ll have to try to be patient. Hard to do, isn’t it, sweetheart? If the Red Cross message came through today. I would hardly get action in time to get me out any sooner than I should.

Most shipping has been delayed three to four weeks, and we are no exception. I guess 10 years from now, three weeks won’t seem to have been so long, but I don’t seem to have the 10-year perspective. At the moment, the only possible case I could conjure up, which the Army would recognize and label an emergency, and thereby hurry my trip home, would be the statement through the Red Cross from mom’s doctor that my presence would probably have a marked effect to the good upon her and definitely prolong her life. The mere fact that she is dangerously ill, as long as there are others in the family to give her adequate care, cuts no ice with the Army. It’s an unhappy situation but that is 57

villa. You, by the way, have a pair of shoes which appear very pretty in that picture.

To revert to the subject of physical exams, did you ever have a follow up to be sure all organs had gone back into proper position. I hope they have because I’m in the mood to have a little gal just as soon as I get home. Well, no, in about nine months after I get home. I guess I too would prefer a total elimination of the wait. But even test tube babies take nine months and an extended abdominal wall. The story of Doug cutting himself above the eye sounds like the thing that will happen to our children. They’ll probably be scarred from head to foot.

You mentioned, Olive’s new job. The salaries for civilian jobs overseas are very attractive. I could easily get one for three to $4,000. I might consider it someday perhaps with our children’s education as the primary objective. Not to mention a change for me and a treat for you. I swear I’m going to get you all out of the US if I can ever manage it.

Meanwhile, I’ve got to find a job in the US to buy enough food so the kids can grow up to a point where they can appreciate travel. Here’s all my love.

Harold Oct. 27, 1945 Paris My darling, This morning we left by truck, just as it became light, and lurched our way here by 11:30. Everyone was registering all at once, so I had to sweat that out for three quarters of an hour. Then I went to my room, which I shared with two other guys washed and would have hit the mess line but it was too long, and damn if I’d stand in it, so I read Stars and Stripes until everyone else was in. The food is lousy, just like GI food, which it is. They do serve, however, an appetizer with each meal -- A wine cordial or liquor. Having eaten, I decided to see if I could get a ticket to the Folies Bergere for tonight.

Normally you can’t but I was fortunate and obtained a balcony seat for $1.70. Having time to kill, I set out to just see what I can see.

The best thing I bumped into was the garden at Tuileries. It is very elaborate with two pools of water and statues all over the place. I would not call it extremely beautiful rather it strikes me more as being odd. Really the most interesting aspect was the great number of lovers who sat in the more secluded areas and rubbed noses most shamelessly like the courting of the feathered kingdom. Then I went down to the river to take a look at the book stalls bordering it. They are merely boxes set upon the wall which keeps you from falling into the river. They contain an odd assortment of antiques and books as worn as one of our secondhand bookshops

in the states. They also had some fine-looking pictures, but all were so soiled I would not think of buying them. From there, I wandered back and reflected on the incongruities. Paris being typical. I’ll explain what I mean. When I went for my ticket, I rode the metro underground railway very similar to New York’s subway system. It’s quite the thing for getting around. There are over 90 miles of it.

There’s the metro and a great deal of fine art in its various forms, beautiful buildings and yet everywhere a lot of ugliness. Only the landmarks are beautiful. Their backstreets and many of the main ones certainly show lack of any artistic endeavor at all. The very best and the very worst all in one spot.

That’s Europe everywhere.

After chow this morning I had until 9 p.m. to spend before the follies show began, so I decided to see what Pigalle was like. The main part is known as Montmartre and is very exclusive. Back toward town is the notorious Pigalle, where anything can happen and does, and where you can get anything and do anything and probably get away with it. It reminds me of the cat and the fiddle area, although this is even less respectable. As I stood drinking a glass of wine in one of the bars an obvious char58

acter sidled up to me and said, “How are you this evening baby.” with a nasal French accent. Had I looked more invitingly, I would have had many at my side. But I sort of looked stern, like a school teacher and soul saver combined, and this brushed them off. Having slummed for an hour, I was satisfied and took off again with my little Metro map in hand and landed at the follies theater in good time.

They have a very elaborate lobby simulating a courtyard of a French village. And a big impressive stairway running up to the first gallery something in the style of a Greek temple. The stage settings were very elaborate and very beautiful. The girls were very beautiful and very nude. It was a good show filled with big changes and scenery affected in unique ways. Some changing before our very eyes. Use of trapdoors and elevators and space lighting. The mechanics were very interesting, and the artists of the dance very, shall we say, scintillating.

Came back to this hotel via the metro. In this club known to the Red Cross as the Transatlantic, a dance was in progress. I certainly wished for you, honey. In fact, I do it very regularly. Once more, I am wishing you can see all of this. I write down some things, not only because it may be of interest to you, but because when I get home, these letters will probably recall to me many things you would enjoy hearing about. And I have not taken time to write.

Tomorrow I take a tour and see all the great spots. I’ll write more tomorrow. All my love, as usual, I miss you sweetheart.

Harold

Paris guidebooks from Harold’s files.

Oct. 28, 1945 Paris My honeybun, Another day, another dollar and another look at Paris. It was 1:30 when I went to bed last night, so I didn’t awaken very early, in fact it was 10 o’clock when I got up this morning. I did have a good bed, though, and I hated to waste it, subconsciously you know.

I hurriedly washed and dressed and grabbed a seat on the metro. In an effort to get to church. I finally found it and enjoyed a very fine service. It was at the large American Church of Paris, claimed to be the oldest Protestant organization on the continent.

Hurried back for chow since I had to be ready for the tour at 3 o’clock. I just made it. And we took off from the Place de la Concorde, from which you can see the Arc de Triomphe in one direction, and then the Tulieres’ small arch in the opposite direction. The Concorde in Paris is the most beautiful square centered by an ancient Greek monument, covered with hieroglyphics brought here by Napo59

leon. There are two large fountains and innumerable statues. The view toward the Arc de Triomphe is up the Champs-Elysees. We passed the Opera House, a very interesting exterior of statues and famous artists and on to Notre Dame. The outside with its many spires, statues, gargoyles and arches is much prettier than the inside. It is I believe the largest church I have seen anywhere. It is very impressive. We passed the Sorbonne. And I went into Les Invalides where Napoleon is enclosed inside a red marble vault. The dome inside has some fine pictures. Outside, it is lead covered with gold plate.

From there, our bus went to the Eiffel Tower. We did not then go up in the tower. We also passed the Louvre. I was unable to find a chance to go inside.

Then, through the Latin Quarter, where pictures for sale were displayed on easels on the sidewalks and past that Pantheon, where is buried Voltaire, Rousseau, Victor Hugo and others. It is not now open to the public. I had thought of going out to Versailles, but if I did, I would get no pictures since our tour left me with little opportunity to snap all I wanted.

I’m going out by myself tomorrow if it is sunny.

This evening another guy of the 953rd and I went to another club in town and heard Barre Hill, baritone of the Chicago Opera. He was too artistic for us, so we went to see what the club was like situated in the first major level of the Eiffel Tower.

We left the metro and went down 100 steps, around the Trocadero and arrived under the former having beaten the local beggers away. We boarded the cable car that takes you up in the tower. It’s just a bit scary. Worse than the Mount Adams incline, but somewhat similar on a smaller scale. We found the club to be definitely lowbrow. Champagne sells for less than half of that anywhere in town, 400 francs a bottle, and hence flows like water. Fortunately, French champagne is not as potent as Czech champagne, and the GI dough usually runs out before he rolls under the table. I took two or three night pictures from there and watched the party grow boisterous. Finally left my buddy to pursue a gal and I jumped the Metro for my good old bed, where I am going to right now. I am very sleepy.

Whether I’ll make it for noon tomorrow, we shall see. All my love, Harold Oct. 30, 1945 My darling, I’m back at camp now and find myself transferred to a 60-point unit. 62-69. Now that’s getting into paydirt. This battalion arrived on post the same day as we did but has a later call date.

What that means no one knows but it’s presumed to be soon. I may come flying, not by airplane, but I assure you will be by air into Bruceville on Christmas eve, but probably without much time

Harold’s photo of Paris street scene, with the Arc de Triomphe dimly in the background.

The tomb of Napolean, among the many sites Harold visited in whirlwind tour of Paris.

to spare. If I’m lucky, it will be sooner. If I’m not lucky, it may be anytime thereafter, up to six months. Isn’t that a pleasant thought?

Since I did not write last night, I will return to a review of my last day in Paris.

I had my roommates awaken me early so I could get something done. Ate breakfast at 8:30 and 60

caught the Metro for the area of the catacombs.

Originally, they were a huge stone quarry, but they turned into a cemetery when Paris needed the space for expansion, which was occupied by huge cemeteries of ancient origin. They dug up the bones, bodies, long before it deteriorated to nothing, and they took them to this underground cavern and piled them bone on bone and skull upon skull carefully labeling each cemetery’s product. The bones of 6 million people are interred there. That is a hell of a lot of bones! The manner in which they are stacked is most interesting. I’ll draw a picture on the back of this.

The small circles represent the end of the long bones. The large circles, the skulls.

This is only one of the designs. There are many. The skulls form a cross, or a circle on an X, or any number Harold’s drawing of the of patterns. They are bones. stacked seven feet high and 10 to 20 feet deep. We walked for a mile through these narrow corridors and saw only a few.

Quite a sight. Afterward, I went back to several places I had been Sunday to take pictures.

By the time 1800 arrived, (I had skipped noon chow) I was dog tired. I returned to the hotel and took a great relaxing bath and ate supper. Then I sat down and took it easy. Drank cokes and read a bit until time to catch the metro to the parking lot where a truck was waiting to take us back to camp.

We left at 11:30 and arrived about 3:30 this morning. I slept until 11:30 and I’m ready now to hit the hay again for 10 or 12 hours.

Always Honey, I wished you were along. That would have made it perfect. All my love, Harold

have run up through the 24th, and that the one, written the next day, did not arrive until today.

All those letters I have written in the last five weeks to you and to Richwood must have almost driven all of you frantic knowing I still knew nothing of Mom’s going. As I wrote them all I fully realized that such might be the case. But there was nothing I could do that I did not do. I got the message from you when I went into the Red Cross office today to give them my change of address.

They had had your message since Saturday but could not deliver it because I was in Paris. It has been a mixed up affair, harder on you, I am afraid, than on me. I wish so much I could have been present for the assistance I might have rendered. I know it was not easy for you. The fact that I knew you would be on hand has given me a great deal of satisfaction. It’s a wonderful thing to have someone you can count on, hold on to and love with everything that’s in you and know at the same time, it is being returned. That’s the only thing that keeps any man on an even keel in this damnable existence over here. I’ll never be able to tell you how much I love you.

I think you will understand me when I say that I have a certain amount of relief with knowing it is all over. I was so afraid mom might last painfully on for weeks or months, and you know what I think of funerals. The services you described would have indeed been hard to hear, but I’m sure they are what the family desired and probably what mom would have wanted. I’m glad Uncle John and Perry were present. I have come to think of them, and Dr. Freeman as three of the finest men I’ve ever known. Like Mom, they seem to be totally unselfish and completely devoted to aiding and encouraging others, regardless of their own convenience.

I’m sure all four will get the very best that heaven may have to offer.

I wrote dad, a letter this evening, and will write Uncle John, Perry and Aunt Pearl in another day or so. In the letter to Dad I told him to call on us anytime we were needed rather than on Thelma, despite the fact that I know she would be willing to do anything. I think she has responsibilities enough.

I do not want Dad living with them. That upsets them too much. I think probably he will want to stay on at the house and will perhaps even have a couple of meals with Aunt Pearl each day. That is what I hope. If necessary, someone could be hired to help Aunt Pearl. If necessary, perhaps you can guide things in that direction until I can get home.

Dad would be lonely if he lived entirely alone. But if he eats across the street, perhaps he will spend most of his spare time there. I think that would be most agreeable. He will want to stick close to his gardens, I’m sure. But what he will do with the

Finally, news of Carrie’s death arrives

On Oct. 31, five weeks after his mother died on cancer in Richwood, Ohio, Harold received news of her death in a message his wife Ellen sent through the Red Cross. The same day, he also got a letter from Ellen with the same tragic news. For weeks, Harold had been sending letters home hoping for the best, but on this day, finally, he confronted the reality of the tragic news.

Oct. 31, 1945 My sweetheart, By the time you get this you will probably have heard that I received your message sent via the Red Cross. It reached to me today, as did your letter written the 25th. It was rather ironic that in that big batch of letters I got last week that they should 61

stuff around Richwood, I do not know. He has never been a good huckster. Well, that can be decided later and the crops should be all harvested now for this season, or very nearly so.

I guess I will write no more tonight but just reiterate that as always, I will go to sleep thinking about you and loving you with all my heart, and longing for the time I can enjoy the comfort of feeling your arms around me and holding you close as I can. Give Doug a big hug from me, too. It’s wonderful to have a loving wife and a wonderful boy. All my love, Harold

rear. Around the lot would be a high thick hedge for privacy.

The outside square could be converted into a hot house and add a fireplace out in the garden, or the hot house could be placed outside the hedge, in another garden or another area. I think the front would be very striking and the windows and the inside very convenient.

Put this in our folder of plans and we’ll discuss it when I get home. That’ll be the day of days, all my love, Harold Nov. 7, 1945 Sweetheart, Well, my honeybun, I have a few things to tell you this evening. Life in the European Theater of operations is not always completely stagnant. I meant to go to Reims today but it was raining this morning so did not go. Instead, I slept until 10 o’clock hung around headquarters until noon, and stood an inspection at three for concealed weapons.

There have been a lot of incidents, presumably between GIs and Frenchmen. A certain element in France is using a chain of papers to exploit these affairs and agitate as much as possible to get the American soldiers out of France. In an effort to limit, these fights shootings, etc., the army is checking as closely as they can to pick up all excess weapons. Each man is permitted one trophy weapon but that is kept locked in the orderly room.

I also arranged to get another pass to Paris, leaving tomorrow. I will be in excess of the quota allowed us, but no one will know that. I have been around long enough here now to learn some of the angles.

Late this evening orders came through for the transfer of all high 60 pointers to another outfit.

They are now putting 65 to 69 in outfits scheduled to leave ahead of 60 to 64 point outfits. That is encouraging and ensures us a better chance of being among the first 60 pointers to leave. I’m still hoping to be home by Christmas. But it’s very uncertain. It is liable to be close, even if we do make it.

I have been transferred to the -- get this -- seventh Chemical Depot company in Camp Baltimore not far from here. I will report in after getting back from Paris. The mail address here should be sent over to them. Don’t write me anyway. There isn’t much use anymore. As far as I can figure out, I hope to leave there in no longer than three weeks at the most I hope in a couple.

News of Robert’s discharge surprised me. I thought he’d be able to stick a while longer. Maybe Robert and Phyllis would like to go to the Mardi Gras if I get back home in time? I’m not anxious to travel but it might be the best chance we’d have for quite a while. Your dad is liable to find himself with two farmhands for the rest of the winter.

The first week of November passed very uneventfully for Harold. He was asked to become the Sgt. Major for the battalion, so the person who held that post could get away to Paris for a few days. The duty had some perks, and there was a chance he might get back to Paris for a few days as a reward. The demands of the job were few. Mainly, he slept late, played ping pong, watched an occasional movie and went to chow. In this spare time, he started thinking about the house he would build when he got home.

Nov. 6, 1945 My sweetheart, Tomorrow I am relieved of my duty as acting Sergeant Major, so I am going to go to Reims with two of my friends. That’s one way to get some material for writing. Today I sat around did no work but was on hand in a military fashion. This evening I spent some time reading several short stories by Thomas Wolfe. That writer is a most realistic writer. He gets down to the bottom of life and his characters are vivid and human. Most of them find life not too kind and do their share of suffering. I enjoy most of his efforts. Plots are almost non-existent.

Rather, he does go in for portraiture in miniature.

I have been sketching house plans tonight. What I am sending you is not the best drawn but it is the best planned of my three attempts. Maybe you can figure out what I have in mind. Let me point out some of the good points: A hell of a lot of windows. Those are two sides of the house facing south. The fireplace flanked by bookshelves.

Sunroom and living room can be thrown together and both will be well lighted.

Entrance is not into the living room, but into a garden, glass roofed, which makes a nice entryway, as well as a pretty picture just off the study and the breakfast nook.

The service units are consolidated and entrance to the kitchen can be gained through the front entrance or rear via the shop and garage.

The fireplace in the study serves outside for the lawn parties. The flower garden would not be the only place for flowers, anywhere along the front or 62

What do you mean about letting out my civilian pants? Who said I wouldn’t fit them? I’ll show you woman!

Well, my dear, I hope you can get that wagon somewhere for Doug. I’ll call that company up if they haven’t delivered by the time I return. From what I hear of the old boy, I’m sure he’d get an enormous bang out of it. Probably pester everyone to pull him around, but I guess we can do that sometimes. I’m very tired of doing everything for him by proxy. I didn’t marry a sweet wife and have a priceless kid, just so I get some mail on my world travels. I love you very much, and I’ll be so happy when I see you again. Your own, Harold Nov. 9, 1945 My sweetheart, Here I am in gay Paree again, only this time it is going to be much less gay Paree, and much more historic Peree than it was before because I ain’t got no dough. The difficulty is that they did not pay us for last month. Not yet anyway. And so I find myself in somewhat straightened circumstances.

However, I imagine that missing the cognac, and the champagne will not be too great a loss. Arrived here yesterday morning at 10 after a hair-raising speed dash in a GI truck from camp to Paris. I spent the afternoon reviewing the entertainment world and getting tickets. The evenings are somewhat of a problem, if you want to stay away from lowbrow entertainment and American movies.

I finally got a ticket to the Comedie Francaise in the Palais Royale, where I saw a comedy in French, of course. I was unable to follow the difficulties of the character except in a vague sort of way. I hoped to get a program which was not handed out to those in the fourth gallery but after the show was unable to find a single one which had been dropped by any of the finer patrons. An American Theatre would be littered with them.

The theater is built in the ornate style of the Renaissance and has four galleries. The ceiling has a beautiful mural and the corridors are filled with statues and busts of famous writers. The audience never applauded upon entrance of the stars but did give several curtain calls at the end of each act making it somewhat different from our customs.

They used heavy makeup to the to counteract very few colored lights. Most were white lights. Their sets were colorful and their voices very good. Had I known French I would have surely not have missed a word. I bought between acts and ice cream bar. It was half the size of our pre-war nickel bars. It was not chocolate covered, and it was a cross between ice cream and ice. It cost 16 cents.

I must be of on my sightseeing now. I wish, so much you were along. I don’t have half as much

The Paris Opera House.

fun doing things alone as I do with you. I find it hard to be patient and wait. As I imagine you do also but time moves on just as fast now as it did a year ago or two years ago. So it’s just a mental condition and up to us to control, dammit. Here’s all my love, Harold Nov. 9 1945 Sweetheart, As I mentioned when writing my last letter, I am being very intellectual this trip. Tonight I attended the opera and tomorrow night, the opera comique.

I have already sent out a card depicting the outside of the opera house and today I took a tour through it. Without question, I was more impressed by it than much of what I have already seen. Its interior is truly beautiful and tres grand. I’m somewhat partial to anything relative to the theater, but I’m sure few who see it could fail to be impressed. The marble staircase is very famous and despite its 1875 completion date has many modern inclinations. The use of mirrors to add size is very evident.

The murals and mosaics are very pretty. The auditorium will seat only 2,200, while the stage is so large that they at times have more people on it than in the audience. A few years ago, a very modern lighting installation was procured, it has over 5000 switches, plus many rheostats. The fly is 180 feet high and the stage slopes up toward the back for better vision.

From there I went to the Louvre and saw the Winged Nike and Venus de Milo, also the Mona Lisa and Whistler’s Mother, to mention only a few.

As the afternoon wore on, I began to feel as I used to each summer at the end of school at Ohio State -- dumber than hell! We talk about liberal arts education in the states, and yet never think of including any of the Fine Arts in it. I swear our kids are going to have to have a grounding in history, the fine arts and classical literature that poor Doug little dreams

63

of, and probably won’t appreciate unless maybe he gets it in some world travel. Seeing these things here in Europe has certainly stimulated my interest and I am sure, would anyone who appreciates a broad education. This whole tour of duty has broadened my vision on a lot of things. I am not greatly impressed by Paris as a superficial city, but the evidence of French culture past is very impressive.

I also saw the most beautiful church I have yet seen in Paris, inside that is the Sacre Couer, a mosque type edifice with innumerable mosaics. It has rained all day, so my picture taking has gone to pot.

All my love, Harold

where the Treaty of Versailles was signed, and walked through the famous gardens where there are 60 major fountains, very elaborate, and many more smaller ones.

This evening, I will attend the programs of the Opera Comique and then get my truck for a long, cold ride back to camp. I have some more postcards to send you, but have no envelopes large enough. I must go now, all my love, and as always I think of you very often when I am seeing all of this and wish very, very much that you were along.

That would be perfect. Give Doug a hug for me.

Seems strange you’re saying he is ceasing to be a baby and becoming a little boy. That seems impossible. Your own always, Harold

Nov. 10, 1945 Sweetheart, This is my last night in Paris. I feel now that while there is a great deal I did not see, nevertheless, I have not done too badly. I would like to have taken many more pictures, but weather, time and mode of transportation was often against me.

Last evening, I spent most enjoyably attending the opera Damnation of Faust followed by the ballet, Le Spectre de la Rose. The music was the best and the staging particularly interesting. The opera had not been presented until recent years because the composer made the scene changes and effects too difficult for anything but the 20th century theater. They made extensive use of what I believe was a mechanism that projected on the backdrop from the rear. The psychological effects of heaven and hell were depicted in constantly changing patterns of color. The opera seems to use colored lights much more than the legitimate stage. I felt quite proud of my knowledge of the ballet which I recalled seeing in Cincinnati, I believe, before we were married.

This morning I bought two films at the PX to add to my rapidly depleting stock. I now have five exposed but no good place to get them processed.

I may have to bring them home. I’m going to try to get them done in Reims, but we’ll have to see if my new organization will let me go there. I skipped out of here to Paris, just on the eve of my transfer because I was afraid they might not let me go. I am still using the old address since I do not know the new APO. This afternoon I took the tour to Versailles. Much of the effect was lost since objects of art have not yet been returned to any extent since the war. Louie XIV had over 35,000 men working seven years to build it. Vast amounts of Italian marble were used as one time there was much real gold and silver and bronze, but it was melted down by the victors in a war I don’t recall. I stood in the hall of mirrors,

Nov. 11, 1945 Camp Baltimore Sweetheart.

I’m sitting in the service club of Camp Baltimore this evening. I got back from Paris this morning at 4 a.m. and climbed wearily into bed. The first sergeant rudely awakened to me at 10 a.m. and said I was to be on my way to this place by 10:30 with 11 other guys. That disappointed me as I had several things to do such as return a library book, draw my PX rations etc. I gave the book to another guy and thought I’d get my tobacco and chocolate here, but I find this camp not so much on the ball and the PX is closed. So I’m gypped for this week.

That is particularly bad since I’m completely out of everything. This post is this post is not up to Boston, in many ways, however, I guess I can stand it for a while.

To the best of my knowledge at this moment, this company is due to pull out around Dec. 1. Of course, that may change several times.

I have been feeling that I’m not going to want to get a job when I return. I want to just stay at home with you and Douglas. I can’t think of anything more satisfying. If someone else would just take care of the non-essentials, but items which seem to be part of society, such as houses, money, food and clothing. Doug outgrows his, the moths eat mine and yours must meet fashion changes. The tribulations of society!!! I’m still ready to return to them though at any moment, even if my sleep must be interrupted.

A lot of guys are re-enlisting because they consider it their only way to get home by Christmas, and because they figured the jobs aren’t too plentiful now. Then, too many are doing so just to get out of this assembly area command -- cooped up here for months. They are going berserk. They must be berserk if they’re re enlisting.

The only way I’m crazy is about you and Doug, and there I’ll admit anything. It’s nice to have so 64

much to look forward to in going home. All my love, Harold

they may wind up by making me a private, but then I wouldn’t have to be in charge of the platoon. As you probably can easily see I’m damn disgusted with my existence. If I couldn’t get some good reading material, I’d go AWOL in Paris, shack up with some broad, and live off the black market like several thousand other GIs are. They claim five to 10,000 soldiers are doing that in Paris and have been for a long time.

I lost my last comb in Paris, three days ago, and have been unable to comb my hair since I have been in four PXs, and none have any to sell. Guess I’ll have to let my fingernails grow long.

Today I was issued a sleeping bag, such as I had before. That has been a happy note. I much prefer it to just blankets. What I’d prefer most however is going home. Nothing else would be nearly so satisfying. I presume it’s as hard to wait for you as for me, but at times, I don’t think so. Anyway, maybe in a couple of weeks we’ll be telling a different story, and I’ll find it easier to be cheerful. Meanwhile, you are my best and most cherished association.

All my love, Harold

Nov. 13, 1945 My sweetheart, This has been an unpleasant day outside -- cold and drizzly. A large group of 70 point paratroopers just breezed into camp today. They are from Berlin, where the black market has been so extensive and prices notoriously high. An officer was in our orderly room this evening. He claims that every man has from $500 to $5,000 in German currency.

They’re able to convert into French currency and subsequently American, the equivalent of three months pay. Plus, anything else they can prove receiving legitimately. Hence, most of what they have is worthless.

They tell of selling everything up to tanks and trucks to the Russians. The Russky is the source of much of their money. Watches sell for $200 (worth $50 or less) and uniforms for $75. The GIs will sell everything they have. I’m glad to see them caught holding the bag. Many guys spend all their free time in Germany and Czechoslovakia and France working the black market. Many guys took passes to Paris and Switzerland only for that purpose. I sometimes wonder if they’ll be able to get used to making an honest living in the States. They have no ethics or scruples of any kind. Not to mention a lack of any decent morals at all.

I don’t talk to anyone around here for 15 minutes total any day. Haven’t found anyone worth it.

They’re not even good bullshitters. It’s all disgusting. It’s a good thing I wasn’t associated with line troops throughout this war. I generally take off for the library or service club to get away from their disgusting mouthings. The service club, incidentally, has a very comely gal wearing the Red Cross pin. She’s the first one of the Red Cross class that I have seen that I didn’t think had gone into the work because she thought all the men would be wonderful. I have seen a few more than this gal who are fairly good looking. But in those cases, they look like the puritanical or academic type. And for that reason, were the same examples of wallflowers seeking excitement. Anyway, it is very refreshing to see one that you can feel didn’t come into the service for the male contacts she would develop.

There’s at least therefore one good thing to be said for this camp.

One of these days I expect to get chewed out by one of the birdbrain officers, we have here.

About half of my platoon never falls out for reville.

However, I report them all present. Someone will investigate some of these days and raise hell. I don’t care. I’ve been chewed out by better men than they seem to be so let them chew. Of course,

Nov. 15, 1945 Sweetheart, Today is Thursday. I guess I wanted to make it Friday the 16th, but I guess I can’t. Not that Friday has any significance except as a later day of the week than Thursday. The day will probably come when we wish time would not only drag, but stand still. Just now I can’t quite comprehend such an attitude. Human qualities must be capable of bearing up under such situations. Rather than turn pig, I throw myself into my day energetically as if this were my last to live.

For example, my schedule has resolved itself into this pattern: 7:30, I sleep through the announcement that it is time to rise. 7:45, the first sergeant who sleeps in our tent, gently nudges me. I am supposed to get the men out of our tent since I am tent commander, and he just sleeps there. On his way around the tent he awakens everyone. 7:50, I drag out not yet awake. After all I’ve only had nine or 10 hours of sleep the preceding night. 8:00, I call the roll -- 15 men absent. No one got them out. 8:01 all men present or accounted for. I can account for them -- they’re all snug in bed, 8:05, go to breakfast. The brisk air is slowly awakening me. 8:30, back in the tent sweeping the floor and making my bed. I’m able to see my way around but not very sharp yet. 9:00, try to read or listen to the chaff around me. I’m getting drowsy. 10:00, I can’t stand it any longer. I just got up too early, so back to bed. 11:45, just awakened. My, what a glorious day. Sleep can do wonders. Time for dinner.

Army chow helps you continue to function biolog65

ically, anyway. 12:30, I stroll over to the library -- must get in my study of the arts. 4:30, time for chow. Breaks the monotony, anyway. 5:00, just as I expected, hamburger again. 5:30, talk to my comrades for 15 minutes, very dull except for my witty comments. I’m quite at my best, having been awake for five and a half hours, 5:45, either go to the service club or a movie, the latter only if I don’t have to stand in line.

I have two things to do each evening, write a letter or entertain myself. If I go to a movie first, I write a letter after, otherwise I reverse the procedure, usually read a little. 8:00, time for coffee and donuts. They probably make that batch so poorly so they’ll have enough to go around and last a while.

Never knew them to run out. Not surprised. 8:30, time for bed. I crawl in and drop off to pleasant dreams of my sweetheart. What a strenuous day I’ve had. Very exciting, very satisfying. When is that goddamn boat going to take me home!!!

This morning was our coldest to date. Had a very heavy frost and the ground was frozen on the surface. It has been cold all day so tonight I’m going to put on some wool before retiring. My circulation ain’t what it used to be.

All my love, Harold

Our proper place should not be more than a week later. I feel that our chances of making it before Christmas are quite good, the best they have ever been.

I have no word of Don, but I’ll try to discover if he is still in the area. My tentative plans upon reaching the point from which I can telegraph is to send you an arrival message. Not a new arrival, pounds and ounces, but an old one, who looks as homely as ever, or more so. The message will be followed by a telephone call from Indiantown Gap when I discover just when I’ll be enroute. I’ll probably suggest you meet me in Columbus at a hotel. I want to go out to the U. And then we’ll go to Richwood for a while, and then Bruceville.

This may not seem practical to you, or even to me, when the time comes, but we can decide that then.

Meanwhile, I have several hurdles to jump, not to mention a few bridges to cross. Let us pray. Yes, there’s a pond to swim as well. All my love, Harold Harold then appends a page to this letter, with the word NOTICE underlined at the top.

I have decided I’d better tell you what I had planned to do with the contents of the boxes I sent home. You will just have to see your small items early, I guess. However, if the big vase has or does come before Dec. 25, as it should, that you must not undo until the proper time. That would be in the last big wooden box.

In the cardboard box are two pairs of grass shoes for our dads. Give the larger to my dad. They are Russian. In the same box is my only item of loot of an illegal nature, or did the post office department, take it out? That you can have. It came from the home of a Nazi medical officer in Mainz in whose home we had as our headquarters.

In the long wooden box is a leather tailed whip for Robert. Among the plaques, which I got in Marienbad, there are a pair with dwarfs on them for you, one with a painted landscape for your mom and one with Red Riding Hood for Kathleen Obee.

There are two more with flowers. I can’t remember what the difference is but one is definitely more in Aunt Pearl’s fussy style, and one more artistic for Thelma.

The pictures of me you can give to Dad, Larry, Uncle Ward and members of your family, as you choose. That is if you have not already disposed of them.

The postcards are for you, and the sword, I plan to refinish and keep for myself. The pipes I expect to keep and the rest I can’t recall. They can wait till my return. Now, are you satisfied? I still hope to make it by Christmas.

Nov. 19, 1945 Dear honeybun, The news of today is Tres bon, if it will only materialize. The long-awaited shipping orders have at last arrived, and we are currently scheduled to depart this station at 4 a.m. -- such an hour -- the 23rd, not of December, but of November! I go first to camp Philip Morris, and then some five to 10 days later to Le Havre. I am very happy that we are not taking the long route through Marseilles.

Now, if these plans are not cancelled, as our orders were earlier in the week, we should be in hot territory by the time you read this, at least we hope it will be hot. If we are fortunate and get out of port by the first, we should be home in 10 or 12 days probably. By home, I mean the states. From the New York port, we will go by troop train to separation centers, mine being in Indiantown Gap, and then, in 48 hours or so, I’ll be a most ecstatically happy man. But I won’t hit this seventh heaven until I meet my family and grab them up in my arms.

I’ll take you off your feet, I swear. So be prepared.

But I’m a few thousand miles ahead of my story.

I really should keep all these potential things a secret and write to you only after they happen, but darn it, I find that a very hard thing to do. Instead, I write it all and let you agonize as you wonder just where I am. Maybe it’ll all be over soon. We are still ahead of schedule since we are scheduled to move out with the tail enders of the 70 pointers.

66

Nov. 21, 1945 Sweetheart, A delay has been announced and we find ourselves with a 48-hour postponement. So, our hour of departure is supposedly now four in the morning, on Nov. 25. All units here have had their departure delayed two days, officially due to fog in the channel making travel unsafe.

It is encouraging to know that we have not been shoved out of our space to make room for someone else. Everyone is delayed. We hope it will be for no more than 48 hours. Naturally, we are very impatient, but also desirous of safe passage on the water.

Strange how two days can seem so monumental.

I received a letter from Aunt Pearl today dated Oct. 19, and one from dad dated Oct. 15 came a couple of days ago. It’s hard to be so far away and so inactive and to have been so when so many people close to my heart would have liked to have turned to me for morale purposes. You, Dad and Aunt Pearl I know must have borne more than you should have because of my absence and Pearl says Dad, often says he’ll wait to decide this or that until I get home. He must feel very much alone with Latimer and Mom gone and me so far away.

I know you must have done a lot and Thelma too, probably, but naturally none could be expected to take the place of the immediate family.

It must be terribly lonely to outlive your marital companion and all your children. I’m glad Dad at least has me to hang on to. Perhaps at a not too far distant a time, I can be there and do some good.

Dad wrote that you had been very helpful to him.

I’m sure he found you great assistance, and Pearl wrote that I have a wonderful wife and son to come back to. That I knew, but I enjoyed reading her statement, anyway.

As Dad has me to hang on to, so have I you to keep me on an even keel. My activities over here have been much different than they would have been had I come over here unattached. A family is the first thing a man can have in this earth. That’s enough for tonight, all my love, Harold

ular or suddenly stop, you can be sure it is a good sign.

As our chances to go home seem to be become more likely, paradoxically, they seem unbelievable.

I think anticipation is often more exciting than culmination, because your nerves are keyed up in anticipation. Then suddenly you realize what you want is within your grasp, and your tired nerves relax. The excitement is gone and the result you find is less exciting and stimulating. Now in this case, it’s the relaxation in chosen surroundings that I’m wishing for. I want to lose the excitement of living abroad and working for Uncle Sam, although I could use a pension anyway. I know darn well this lad will not be disappointed in the culmination.

I still have not settled what I expect to do in the way of activity for which paychecks are gladly donated. I’m a bit like Robert -- what am I going to do? I need a house! Perhaps Robert would, out of his major’s savings, pay me to erect a home for him. Then if I didn’t spend any, I could pay him to erect a house for me. That way we both have a job for a while. I want to talk to people I know, hither and yon and look around. Expect to go to Columbus, possibly Toledo, Detroit, maybe Ann Arbor, and wind up at Cincinnati. So plan on a few more train rides. It should be pleasant enough with the considerable group of friends we have in most places. Naturally Richwood and Bruceville are taken for granted. It’s time to close. I must get back to that beautiful girl that sleeps with me every night.

She must be getting cold by now. So long, honey, we’ll see what we shall see. Love, Harold Nov. 28, 1945 My Dear, This is I hope is a very special day, a day I hope that stands out in my memory until death folds my tent and steals me away. What I mean to say is that this is the last letter I’m going to write to you from the European Theater of Operations. I hope. If we go out about the third of December as originally scheduled. I’ll write no more. If we are delayed unduly for a gang of 70 pointers who rushed in on our ship, which may very easily happen, then I’ll write again and tell you the worst.

Going to bed early tonight, haven’t caught up yet from our trip, and by golly I have another trip coming up soon. I hope it’s only four days until the second. Oh boy, you know, if I had a compass, I bet I could float home over the ocean with the condition I’m in. As always, honey, I love you. As for old Socko, he’s got an another world of love. Right close to yours, so close, in fact, I sometimes think they’ll come together. Before long, maybe I’ll be so close to you. I’ll be able to whisper it. And yet, you will hear. I whisper it now so as I go to sleep.

Nov. 24, 1945 My honeybun, I will not write to you again from here if we leave here on schedule. We load at 2 a.m. and ride by truck to Suippes (two miles) and then load into ancient French coaches and we will be lucky if there’s any window glass in them at all. We are due to arrive at Camp Philip Morris, about 20 hours later. But judging from former experience, it will probably be 30 hours at least. Upon arrival, in case we make it this time, I’ll write one letter any way to announce our arrival. We may get rushed out or may sit around for 10 days. If my letters are irreg67

But you can’t hear it. One of these days you will though. And for that I am waiting. Yours only and always, Harold Dec. 3, 1945 Surprise, surprise!!! I’m still in the European Theater of Operations. Good joke. Yep. It’s the same old runaround this time. A troublesome company of colored lads crowded us off our ship.

And so the story goes, and of course everyone is ready to believe it, and call the boys by less complimentary terms than I have used. The black men have had a good record of as fighters and combat truckers.

Just now we are scheduled for the Thomas Berry, a small liner carrying about 3,600 troops, which arrives here on the sixth of December. This time we have hopes of making that gangplank our own. We shall see. It seems that troops are averaging nine days here now, instead of the five a few weeks ago.

The sixth will be our ninth day here so we feel our chances are fairly good. One cancellation we hoped against but almost expected. Two we hope against and are afraid we may get. Three we hope against and do not expect, so there you are. As long as we feel we still have a chance to make the states by Christmas our spirits will remain pretty good. But if we’re still here on the 15th, you had better pray for us. We’ll need it.

I haven’t written to you because all I can seem to write about are the changing plans and our hopes and desires. Such stories must only be tantalizing to you, because you cannot but wonder if we are getting on our way and constant repetition of such as of little value. I’m going to skip writing the next three days again and will not write if we embark on time. Letter writing is a fine thing in season, but by God, its season is over in my hunting ground. As a letter writer these days, I feel like a hunter who’d rather be hunting dears than deer.

By the time I get home, over six weeks will have elapsed without receipt of any message from you.

I don’t like that. Too many things can happen and have. Give Socko a hug for me and I’ll give him some extras when I get home for those you’ve given him by proxy. All my love, Harold That was the final letter written from Europe. As expected, Harold boarded the troop ship Thomas Berry on Dec. 6, leaving from Le Havre, France and arriving at Camp Kilmer in New York on Dec. 19. He left Kilmer on Dec. 21 and arrived the same day at the Army base in Indiantown Gap in Pennsylvania. Two days later, he left Indiantown Gap and was reunited with his family on Christmas Eve, 1945.

Redeployment camps were named for cities and cigarettes. Harold landed at Camp Phillip Morris before being shipped home.

Harold boarded the troop ship Thomas Berry on Dec. 6, and arrived in New York Dec. 19.

Harold was at Camp Kilmer just two days. This was the recreation center there.

The final note in his military records is the following: July 13, 1948 – Subsistence award under the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944. Increased from $105 to $120 a month. The Veterans Administration notes they have received the birth certificate of son Nicholas.

68

Miscellaneous items from the files Scuttlebutt was the newspaper published on troopships while at sea. This edition is from February, 1945.

69

70

A guidebook and pictures of bomb damage in Rouen, France.

Harold attended services at this church in Paris.

71

72

Harold and Ellen at the farm in Michigan.

Pilsen Opera House.

Humorous Army postcards.

Newspaper clipping about the discovery of some rare manuscripts, discovered after Harold’s division took Czechoslovakia.

The family farmhouse in Michigan where Ellen stayed.

73