‘Well Folks, I Am Now a Radio Operator’ (and Due for a Package)

Nestle's Chocolate ad from the Saturday Evening Post. Babe requested Nestle's bars in this letter home.

Letter dated “approximately” May 5, 1943; postmarked May 6 from Camp Wheeler. The back of the envelope includes this sentence: “I am listening to Jack Benny. If you didn’t hear it, ask someone who did why I mentioned it.”

Dear People,

I don’t know why I am writing tonight. I have nothing to write about, but I also have nothing to do right now so I thought I would pass the time writing.

I received Bib’s letter today, the first letter I got in at least a week. Therefore, I was very happy to receive it.

I sent you some receipts a few days ago that you must save. The receipts are for War Bonds and for my insurance. I also sent you some money tonight, so let me know if you and when you receive them. Read more of this post

A Casualty During Training on the Obstacle Course

Seal atop the stationery he used on May 4, 1943, letter.

Letter dated “approximately May 4, 1943.” Postmarked May 4 from Camp Wheeler. The postmark is two years to the day before Babe was killed.

Dear Folks,

I hope this letter finds you all in good condition and in the best of health. I am feeling fine right now and I have nothing to do. I am barracks guard today and we were already inspected, so I have the rest of the day to myself. The rest of the fellows have to go on a hike today and they won’t be back until about 11:00 tonight.

Every letter I wrote in the last month I wanted to mention about the pictures, but I forgot all about them each time. Now that I got around to it, I’ll tell you about it. I could have the pictures taken, but it would cost you maybe ten or fifteen dollars and that ain’t hay. Read more of this post

A Shameful Passage of Antisemitism in One of Babe’s Letters

Star of David Picture from WWII American Cemetery in Normandy is courtesy of "tmmiller' from Flickr.

The letter I just transcribed made me gasp aloud as I was typing.

I haven’t read these letters in years. As I transcribe them, I’m coming to most of it cold. And I had obviously forgotten about this passage in one of Babe’s May 1943 letters: “I hope that when I leave here, I stay with all of these fellows, with the exception of one or two stinking Jews.”

I had not anticipated confronting such an ugly remark when I started this project. It didn’t occur to me to censor it or edit it out; it’s an ugly display of antisemitism and it’s the reality of Babe’s life, as disappointing and disturbing as that is.

It’s doubly disturbing because it is an attitude that must have been tolerated by his parents; why else would he have felt free to say such a thing in a letter to them? Further, my grandparents were Italian, first-generation immigrants to the United States. They had experienced bigotry and discrimination for their own heritage.

For heaven’s sake, Babe was an Italian-American, and a tyrant in the land of his ancestors was one of the reasons Americans were at war. If that wasn’t cause for anti-Italian sentiment, what was!

And yet, the family was willing to perpetuate such an attitude again the Jews.

It makes me wonder whether Babe’s attitudes changed as he served next to others of different faiths and backgrounds.

It makes me wonder if Babe ever became aware of the persecution of the Jews in Nazi Germany? Or, beyond that, the atrocities the Nazis committed in the death camps, gas chambers and incinerators? Did he ever know about the Holocaust before he was killed? It is unlikely that he did; but if he had, would it have changed his attitudes in any way?

Babe’s Fondness for (Most of) the Fellows in His Platoon

I have a letter without an envelope and an envelope without a letter; I’m guessing they’re supposed to be together. The letter is dated “May 1943, Sunday,” and the envelope is postmarked May 4, 1943, from Camp Wheeler. The postmark is two years to the day before Babe was killed.

Dear Ma and Pa,

Need I say more? I’ll tell you how this mixup about the money came about. I gave the money to the chaplain because he handled everything like that. I didn’t know, though, that I would have to go back there for the money order. I thought he would mail it himself. Last night, the chaplain called me into his office and gave me the money order. So, here it is.

By the by, it is too late to get my pictures taken at this camp anyhow, so I’ll get them at my next camp. It takes too long to get the pictures and I’m not going to be here more than two weeks. Read more of this post

‘You Must Think They Are Killing Us Down Here’

Dated April 27, 1943; postmarked April 30 from Camp Wheeler.

Dear Folks,

You remember I told you in my last letter that we were preparing to go out on a hike? Well, that hike was 14 miles long and it was boiling hot out. We got a ten-minute break every hour as always and the hike lasted four hours. When we got back, there wasn’t a man in the company who could have walked another 100 yards without collapsing.

We were so tired when we got in that we couldn’t unlace our leggings. We were too weak all over to do anything but lay on the bed. I was so thirsty when I came in that it took me an hour to quench my thirst. I never drink any water on hikes anyway, or all during the day for that matter. The only time I drink is when I eat and then I make sure I drink plenty. Read more of this post