Letters from the Greatest Generation: Writing Home in WWII
355
Letters from the Greatest Generation: Writing Home in WWII
355eBook
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Overview
Recounting victory and defeat, love and loss, this is a remarkable and frank collection of World War II letters penned by American men and women serving overseas.
Here, the hopes and dreams of the greatest generation fill each page, and their voices ring loud and clear. “It’s all part of the game but it’s bloody and rough,” writes one soldier to his wife. “Wearing two stripes now and as proud as an old cat with five kittens,” remarks another. Yet, as many countries rejoiced on V-E Day, this book reveals that soldiers were “too tired and sad to celebrate.”
Filled with the everyday thoughts of these fighters, the letters are by turns heartbreaking and amusing, revealing and frightening. While visiting a German concentration camp, one man wrote, “I don’t like Army life but I’m glad we are here to stop these atrocities.” Meanwhile, in another letter a soldier quips, “I know lice don’t crawl so I figured they were fleas.” A fitting tribute to all veterans, this book brings the experience of war—its dramatic horrors, its dreary hardships, its desperate hope for a better future—to vivid life.
“An intimate portrait of the mundane and remarkable, of heroism and terror, of friendship and loss . . . Timely, compelling, and important reading.”—Matthew L. Basso, author of Men at Work
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780253024602 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Indiana University Press |
| Publication date: | 11/01/2018 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 355 |
| Sales rank: | 904,278 |
| File size: | 893 KB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Letters from the Greatest Generation
Writing Home in WWII
By Howard H. Peckham, Shirley A. Snyder
Indiana University Press
Copyright © 2016 Indiana University PressAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-253-02460-2
CHAPTER 1
PEARL HARBOR AND BATAAN
Early in the morning of December 7, 1941, carrier-based Japanese planes attacked the United States naval base at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, sinking or badly damaging the greater part of our Pacific fleet, including eight of the nine battleships, which were at anchor at the time of the attack. For two hours waves of Japanese planes continued pounding our fortifications, never meeting effective resistance from American forces. While this attack was being carried out against Pearl Harbor, similar strikes were made on small American owned and occupied islands in the Pacific. Garrisons at Midway, Wake, and Guam were attacked. Midway was the only one of the three islands to hold out successfully against the enemy. On December 9 the Japanese landed in the Philippines and swept down on Manila, which had been declared an open city. The American-Filipino forces that remained in the Philippines were withdrawn to Bataan, where they held out until April 8, 1942. On May 5 the forces on Corregidor, under Lt. Gen. Jonathan M. Wainwright, surrendered. Simultaneously troops on the other islands in the Philippines surrendered to the Japanese.
David Anderson, of Indianapolis, enlisted June 11, 1936, in Army Air Corps and received a direct commission in the field from the grade of master sergeant to 2d lieutenant Jan. 9,1943, at Espiritu Santo. Anderson left the U. S. for Hicham Field, Hawaii, Dec. 19,1940, and was stationed subsequently on Christmas Island, Espiritu Santo, New Zealand, New Caledonia, Norfolk Island and Guadalcanal. All his wartime duty was with the Army Airways Communications System. He was awarded a unit citation (11th Bomb Group) for support of the Battle of Guadalcanal, and the Meritorious Service Ribbon for service between the Air and Airways Communications Service and Headquarters Air Materiel Command at Wright Field from Apr. 1, 1945, to Jan. 1, 1947. Major Anderson is now stationed with the A. T. S. Command, Wright Field, Dayton, Ohio.
Dec. 1941
Hawaii
Dear Folks:
Well, your wee yen has been through his first air raid. Sunday morning at 7:40, just as I was getting up for breakfast, I heard some dive bombers taking a pass at Pearl Harbor, which is in our backyard, so to speak. I remarked to Zuchalag, the sound man on the records I sent you, that some day that would be the real thing. I mean the dive bombers. Just then I heard an explosion. I looked out the window and saw clouds of smoke coming from the harbor. We all hurried and got dressed. Running outside we saw the planes whipping down on us with the red sun of Japan on each wing tip. I jumped into my car and rushed to the hangar, but by the time I got there the damned Japs had beat me to it.
There was a lull for a while and we started in on rescue work. Fowler and I (you will hear him on the records, too) hauled out about 10 wounded ourselves. We left the dead, and there were plenty of them. Oh, God, what a mess! We were both soaked with other fellows' blood. I lost many fellows that were good friends. The casualties are extremely high. Frank Bowen, who used to be at Schoen Field with me, got wounded in the hand. Zuchalag, my roommate, is missing. We received orders to disperse so I returned to my quarters. Just as I got back the damned so and so's came back again. The nearest one to me was about 150 feet, but it was only a light one, and a stick of bombs was coming toward me which I saw. I had time to throw myself on the ground. Boy, that is a sensation, to see a stick of bombs dropping toward you. Geysers of debris rush toward you.
We gave the Japs hell on the second go-round, though; several were shot down. They caught us with our pants down, but don't worry, it won't happen again. One reason is that we aren't taking our pants off any more. My address has been changed. There is no more Tow Target Detail — we have the real thing now. My address is now 327th Signal Company, 18th Bomb Wing, Radio, Hickam Field, Territory of Hawaii. I am glad, Mother, that this happened before you sailed. I wish I could see all of you. Well, I have to return to work. I will write later in more detail, so until then I will close with love to each and every one from the depth of my heart.
Your loving, David
P. S. Don't worry. I am not flying, and we will lick the devils in the end.
Arthur William Meehan, of Indianapolis, was graduated from the U. S. Military Academy in June 1928. He was on duty at Hickam Field, Hawaii, in Dec. 1941 with the Air Corps and was transferred one year later to Australia. He participated in many raids and made a night raid over Wake Island in June 1942. Promoted to colonel in May 1942, he was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for dangerous missions over enemy territory in Sept. Col. Meehan was reported missing in action Nov. 16,1942, over Rabaul, New Britain, and was declared dead by the War Department Dec. 10, 1945. The Purple Heart was sent to his widow in 1947 with a note from President Truman.
Dec. 12, 1941
Hickam Field
Dear Folks:
Since the surprise visit we received from our small yellow friends last Sunday I've been too busy to write. I knew how worried you would be, but I hoped that you would work on the old theory that "no news is good news."
When the raid hit I hurried to my office and I've been on duty almost continuously ever since. All of the families were evacuated from Hickam and other fields as soon as the first raid was quieted. Lucy left me a note telling me approximately where she was headed for. I finally located her late that night. She and Mrs. Lewis (another officer's wife) had moved in with their total of four kids on some people they knew in a peaceful valley. It is a lovely home and they are safe and comfortable. I don't know whether they will be allowed back to Hickam Field or not. I imagine that families may be evacuated to the mainland if safe passage can be arranged. Much as I hate the thought of separation, I'll be more relaxed about the whole thing when Lucy is safe somewhere in the U.S.A.
Now that the first bomb has been dropped we in the Army have a feeling of relief. It is nice to know exactly where we stand. Before it was all talk and uncertainties and we were in the position of waiting for someone else to fire the first shot. We don't have to wait any more. And, Mother, I'm lucky that you did raise your boy to be a soldier! I've waited around fourteen years preparing myself for this war — and, believe me, I'm ready.
I've almost forgotten about my trip home, it seems so long ago, but it was a wonderful trip, particularly in light of what has happened since.
Christmas is going to seem funny this year, but we'll celebrate it somehow. To show how Americans work, a load of Christmas trees from the mainland arrived yesterday — and they are selling like hot cakes. A gift I bought for Lucy — a very fetching evening gown — arrived on the same boat. I'll feel silly giving it to her now with a black-out on every night.
I'll try to write as often as I can but if letters are scarce don't worry. The mail will be irregular from now on. Best to everyone — and tell them that our chins are up, and out.
Love, Arthur
Paul W. Franz, of Boonville, enlisted in the Army June 28, 1928, and served until May 15,1942, when he was commissioned chief warrant officer, Schofield Barracks, Hawaii, in the quartermaster corps. Warrant Officer Franz participated in the defense of the Isle of Oahu, Hawaii, Dec. 7,1941, at Wheeler Field. He also saw duty in Puerto Rico and Trinidad. Franz, who was awarded the Bronze Star, is now a master sergeant stationed at Camp Stoneman, Calif. The following account describes his experiences on Dec. 7,1941.
On December 7, 1941, I was first sergeant of a unit on Wheeler Field, T. H., during the attack by the Japanese.
On this Sunday morning by some sixth sense I awoke early and was at the office doing some routine chores at 8 a.m., Hawaii time, when the attack began. Two other men were up working, too. As it was Sunday most of the men were still in bed. Some were housed in wooden barracks and some in tents. I immediately aroused everybody with my whistle and ordered all to scatter. The tents were strafed a few minutes after the men were evacuated.
Our first warning was the sound of machine guns. Low flying strafers were strafing the hangar line with incendiary bullets to put all planes out of commission. This they almost did. I believe three or four planes got into the air. Within the next five minutes I was to witness my first wartime casualty. I saw a pilot partly dressed running for the hangar line; a low flying strafer got him. I learned later it was Lt. Hans Christian Andersen (named after the poet). A bomber came over and let one loose which I believe was aimed at the garage nearby but hit the road 70 steps from where I was standing. Shrapnel flew in all directions. Within a few seconds another bomber came and dropped one on a warehouse full of bagged cement. It seemed that cement flew a half mile high. By this time a machine gunner had spotted me. I dove into a small hedge fence. Bullets flew all around me.
After about ten or fifteen minutes all enemy planes left (back to their carriers to reload). I decided to assemble the units. No officer was present but as I was the senior non-commissioned officer present I took over the unit and another QM unit, a truck company. While we were busy issuing arms and ammunition another wave of bombers and gunners came over. All we could do this time was scatter again. This wave left after about eight or ten minutes. The hangars were in shambles.
The units were really equipped this time. Trucks were moved from the vicinity of a burning vehicle (I was told the next day that I had saved the government $100,000 by this act). I dispatched an eight-man detail to remove dead and wounded from a nearby barracks that had been hit. I saw only one case of hysteria. A big, husky sergeant from the Ozarks knocked the man out. He came to an hour later and snapped out of it.
None of the enemy remained on the field at 10 a.m., to the best of my recollection. Our company officers arrived about this time, having been held up by nuisance attacks along the road from Honolulu to the field. I was recommended for an award that day but the award reached me only recently.
Guy Louis Vecera, of Richmond, enlisted in the Navy Sept. 14,1937, as an apprentice seaman, and was assigned to the U.S.S. "West Virginia" until Dec. 7,1941. For the next year and a half he served aboard the U.S.S. Y.P. 174; from June 1943 to Aug. 1945 he was on the U.S.S. "Huse" (DE 145); from Aug. 1945 to Jan. 1947 he was aboard the U.S.S. "Bailey" (DD 713). In March 1944 he was rated chief quartermaster, at which time he was aboard the U.S.S. "Huse" whose crew sank five German U-boats. With the rating of CQM (PA), Vecera has been stationed since Oct. 1947 at the U. S. N. Recruiting Sub-Station, Flint, Mich.
Dec. 25, 1941
[U.S.S. "West Virginia"]
December 7, 1941, Sunday, 7:55 a.m., I had the watch on the quarter-deck and was standing by the run-up "colors" when I sighted three bomb hits at the fork of the channel to Pearl Harbor. I ran forward and reported the fact to the Officer of the Day, Ensign Brooks, and as we both looked in that direction we saw a Japanese plane going across our bow with the emblem of the Rising Sun emblazoned boldly on her wings.
Immediately I ran to the deck officer and passed the word "all hands to general quarters" and "close all watertight doors." By this time a torpedo or two had already hit the ship amidships to port.
A few minutes, or possibly seconds after passing the word, the O.D. told me to go up to the bridge and find out if the captain was up there. As I started up the ladder to the boat deck, the O.D. grabbed my arm and told me to go there via the lower decks so as to escape the whistling machine gun fire from the Jap planes that were repeatedly dive bombing and strafing us, and to avoid interfering with our own antiaircraft gunners.
As I passed through the main deck another of several torpedoes hit the ship in approximately the same place as before. This occurred at about 8:15 a.m. and the ship started listing to port and it seemed as though it would capsize. But the first lieutenant and his damage control parties were on the job, and the ship was counterflooded and she returned to almost even keel although she was settling to the bottom fast.
All the while we were being bombed and strafed by the enemy planes. Along with our own antiaircraft fire going up, the din was terrific. One large 1,000-pound bomb hit the superstructure and smashed through the signal bridge, down into the galley and through into the commission issuing room, making a noise like a runaway train en route. The bomb did not explode, luckily for me, as I was standing just outside that compartment at the time. There were four or five men killed by the concussion alone.
Another heavy bomb of about the same size hit No. 3 turret and went down into the upper gun room where it stopped. It, too, did not explode but again the concussion killed several men. Fire was raging all over the topside to port and was completely out of control.
Our commanding officer, Capt. M. S. Bennison, who had been on the bridge since almost the beginning of the attack, was struck with a large fragment of the bomb and was fatally hurt. He did not die immediately and the grand old man that he was kept watching the action from his position lying on the deck, facing the sky. He continually asked how the battle was going and when several men attempted to move him he refused. I'm sure he died as he would have wished, on the bridge of the ship he loved, fighting her to the very last.
Meanwhile, I had attempted to get up to the bridge from the main deck, but all hatches were closed and I could not get through. I went down to the sound deck preparatory to going up through the conning tower, but the lights had all gone out and I could not see to pick my way along. The fuel tanks had been ruptured and the smell of oil was strong, so strong in fact that I was overcome by the fumes and collapsed. The next thing I remembered I was on the fo'c'sle, several shipmates having dragged me out.
By this time the ship was resting on the bottom, but the main deck was still above water. However, the entire forward part of the ship was in flames and the oil on the water around the ship was burning fiercely.
Then and only then came the order to "abandon the ship." Men dove over the side and swam to shore about 50 yards distant. I and a party of about 30 men climbed into a life raft and started paddling around the bow of the "Tennessee," which had tied up inboard of us, but we weren't making much headway and we realized that we would never make it, as the burning oil in the water was coming too close for comfort. Finally we gave up the raft and it was every man for himself. I still had on my shoes and I could hardly swim. I didn't think that I had time to take them off and several times I thought I was going down but managed to overcome my weariness enough to go a little farther. I finally reached the starboard side of the "Tennessee" and grabbed hold of her paravane chains to rest for a few minutes. By that time the oil fire on the water had spread so that I could not see the beach. That left me either to be burned by the oil, or drowned, or to attempt climbing up the chains over the bow of the "Tennessee."
I was so tired and weak I didn't believe it possible, but the strength a man has when fighting for his very life, hand over hand, inch by inch, foot by foot, forced me ahead. I crawled painfully up about 30 feet of chain where helping hands helped me down below. By this time the Japs had been beaten off, and I was so completely exhausted I didn't care what happened to me then.
Along with the heartbreaking damage I saw after returning to the topside again was the fact I had seen no sign of Eddie and I was worried about him. I had seen him lying on deck gasping for air as I ran through the main deck at about 9 a.m. I remembered telling him to get where he could get some fresh air. I did not see him after that time nor did I hear from him until three days later.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Letters from the Greatest Generation by Howard H. Peckham, Shirley A. Snyder. Copyright © 2016 Indiana University Press. Excerpted by permission of Indiana University Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Foreword
1. Pearl Harbor and Bataan
2. Training Camps
3. North Africa
4. Italy
5. England
6. France
7. Germany
8. V-E Day and After
9. Alaska and the Aleutians
10. Southwest Pacific
11. Central Pacific and the Philippines
12. China-Burma-India
13. The Ryukyu Islands and Japan
14. After V-J Day
Index
What People are Saying About This
"From the time the first Japanese bomb fell on the American Pacific fleet at Pearl Harbor to occupation duty in conquered Japan, Americans served in every theater around the world during World War II. These letters give voices to the men and women who served, letting them tell their own stories of loss, heartbreak, and hope. A fitting honor for all veterans."
Over the last several decades there has been a tendency to simplify and romanticize the experiences of the men and women that fought World War II. These letters, written in the war moment itself, offer a poignant response. Page after page, often in lyrical prose, ordinary Americans tell of their lives at basic training, at bases and camps on the home front and overseas, and at the front lines in the Pacific, Atlantic, North Africa, Europe, and Asia. What emerges is an intimate portrait of the mundane and remarkable, of heroism and terror, of friendship and loss, of the complexities, contradictions, and, ultimately, the horror of war. Timely, compelling, and important reading.
Over the last several decades there has been a tendency to simplify and romanticize the experiences of the men and women that fought World War II. These letters, written in the war moment itself, offer a poignant response. Page after page, often in lyrical prose, ordinary Americans tell of their lives at basic training, at bases and camps on the home front and overseas, and at the front lines in the Pacific, Atlantic, North Africa, Europe, and Asia. What emerges is an intimate portrait of the mundane and remarkable, of heroism and terror, of friendship and loss, of the complexities, contradictions, and, ultimately, the horror of war. Timely, compelling, and important reading.
From the time the first Japanese bomb fell on the American Pacific fleet at Pearl Harbor to occupation duty in conquered Japan, Americans served in every theater around the world during World War II. These letters give voices to the men and women who served, letting them tell their own stories of loss, heartbreak, and hope. A fitting honor for all veterans.
From the time the first Japanese bomb fell on the American Pacific fleet at Pearl Harbor to occupation duty in conquered Japan, Americans served in every theater around the world during World War II. These letters give voices to the men and women who served, letting them tell their own stories of loss, heartbreak, and hope. A fitting honor for all veterans.
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