05 February 1945

No letter today. Just this:

Route of the Question Mark


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(A) Failon, Belgium to (B) Stolberg, Germany (62 miles)
24 January to 5 February 1945

February 5 ... Stolberg. Back to our old quarters in the department store with the Nazis pinned behind the Siegfried line once more. Preparations for The Battle of Germany. Replacements arrived from the States, and all of them good men, which was a miracle. The impressive warnings against fraternizing with the Germans - we are to remain cold and aloof at all times. Capt A's frantic and successful efforts to get "The Blonde" out of jail, which made T/Sgt [Clayton W. or Lars G.?] PIERSON and several others very happy.

City Square - Now a GI Car Park
Stolberg, Germany - 1945


This is dissection
Stolberg, Germany - February 1945


Main Street. That is not Schulte's Cigar Store.
After all - it's not on a corner.
Stolberg, Germany - February 1945


This stream bisects the city
Stolberg, Germany - February 1945


The Castle at Stolberg, Germany - February 1945


Stolberg, Germany - February 1945

04 February 1945

No letter today. Just this:

* TIDBIT *

about The Yalta Conference

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Seated (l to r) Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin
4 February 1945

The Yalta Conference took place between 4 February 1945 and 11 February 1945. Much can be said about the Conference, but this is not the place for that. Instead, here are some simple summaries. First, The following was taken from a previous page on History.com's "This Day in History ."

On 4 February 1945 President Franklin D. Roosevelt, Prime Minister Winston Churchill, and Premier Joseph Stalin met at Yalta, in the Crimea, to discuss and plan the postwar world — namely, to address the redistribution of power and influence. It is at Yalta that many place the birth of the Cold War.

It had already been determined that a defeated Germany would be sliced up into zones occupied by the United States, Great Britain, France, and the Soviet Union, the principal Allied powers. Once in Germany, the Allies would see to the deconstruction of the German military and the prosecution of war criminals. A special commission would also determine war reparations.

But the most significant issue, the one that marked the conference in history, was Joseph Stalin's designs on Eastern Europe. (Stalin's demands had started early with his desire that the location of the conference be at a Black Sea resort close to the USSR. He claimed he was too ill to travel far.) Roosevelt and Churchill attempted to create a united front against the Soviet dictator; their advisers had already mapped out clear positions on Europe and the creation and mission of the United Nations. They propounded the principles of the Atlantic Charter, formulated back in August 1941, that would ensure "life, liberty, independence, and religious freedom" for a free Europe and guarantee that only those nations that had declared war on the Axis powers would gain entry into the new United Nations.

Stalin agreed to these broad principles (although he withdrew his promise that all 16 Soviet republics would have separate representation within the United Nations), as well as an agreement that the Big Three would help any nation formerly in the grip of an Axis power in the establishment of "interim governmental authorities broadly representative of all democratic elements in the population... and the earliest possible establishment through free elections of governments responsive to the will of the people." Toward that end, Roosevelt and Churchill gave support to the Polish government-in-exile in London; Stalin demurred, insisting that the communist-dominated and Soviet-loyal Polish Committee of National Liberation, based in Poland, would govern. The only compromise reached was the inclusion of "other" political groups in the committee. As for Poland's new borders, they were discussed, but no conclusions were reached.

The conference provided the illusion of more unanimity than actually existed, especially in light of Stalin's reneging on his promise of free elections in those Eastern European nations the Soviets occupied at war's end. Roosevelt and Churchill had believed Stalin's promises, primarily because they needed to—they were convinced the USSR's support in defeating the Japanese was crucial. In fact, the USSR played much less of a role in ending the war in the East than assumed. But there was no going back. A divisive "iron curtain," in Churchill's famous phrase, was beginning to descend in Europe.

This list of "Key Points" was taken from Wikipedia.

Agreement to the priority of the unconditional surrender of Nazi Germany. After the war, Germany and Berlin would be split into four occupied zones.

Stalin agreed that France might have a fourth occupation zone in Germany and in Austria but it would have to be formed out of the American and British zones.

Germany would undergo demilitarization and denazification.

German reparations were partly to be in the form of forced labor. The forced labor was to be used to repair damage Germany inflicted on its victims.

Creation of a reparation council which would be located in the Soviet Union.

The status of Poland was discussed. It was agreed to reorganize the communist Provisional Government of the Republic of Poland that had been installed by the Soviet Union "on a broader democratic basis."

The Polish eastern border would follow the Curzon Line, and Poland would receive territorial compensation in the West from Germany.

Churchill alone pushed for free elections in Poland. The British leader pointed out that the UK "could never be content with any solution that did not leave Poland a free and independent state". Stalin pledged to permit free elections in Poland, but forestalled ever honoring his promise.

Citizens of the Soviet Union and of Yugoslavia were to be handed over to their respective countries, regardless of their consent.

Roosevelt obtained a commitment by Stalin to participate in the UN.

Stalin requested that all of the 16 Soviet Socialist Republics would be granted UN membership. This was taken into consideration, but 14 republics were denied.

Stalin agreed to enter the fight against the Empire of Japan within 90 days after the defeat of Germany.

Nazi war criminals were to be hunted down and brought to justice.

A "Committee on Dismemberment of Germany" was to be set up. Its purpose was to decide whether Germany was to be divided into six nations.

03-04 February 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

3 February, 1945         2130

My dearest girl –

I can’t remember when I’ve started a letter to you so late in the day. I probably won’t finish this tonite – but I’ll feel better for at least having made a start. In the next day or two I may have to miss writing you and I didn’t want to make it two days in a row if I could help it. There was a time when I used to like the peace and quiet of an evening in which to write but I’ve lost some of my ability to relax in the latter part of the day and when the night comes – even if I’m not busy I want to talk with the fellows or play some Bridge. During the day – the mornings particularly when I write you – things are usually in a state of turmoil here and I know my letters to you, dear, suffer in content and expression; but you know what I mean and you must realize sweetheart that it’s just impossible to concentrate. I haven’t apologized for my letters to you in a long while but I know they’re often jumbled and must lack continuity of thought. But I do love you, darling, and no one but you – and when I’m back home again – that will be the thing that counts most of all.

You know, dear, the boys wonder how I can find material to write you most every day. They’ll stand and watch me and say “What! Wilma again!” And I tell them they don’t know what it is to be in love and that I could write page upon page by the hour if I had the time and the place. And they say no more. And I’ll say no more for tonight, sweetheart, except that I love you dearly and miss you more. I’m tired, dear, and I’m going off to bed. See you in the morning, darling. Goodnite for now –

Love

Greg

Sunday, 4 February,    1300

Hello again – dear!

First chance to write today is right now. We had a fairly busy morning, despite a heavy rainfall. Incidentally, the snow in these parts is entirely gone and it’s just like Spring. I don’t know how long it will last, but it’s nice.

As I intimated last night, I know definitely now that I won’t be able to write you tomorrow, but I should be able to the day after, dear. I got one letter from you yesterday – dated 1 January – and I didn’t know whether to be angry or amused at the incident you told me about on New Year’s Eve. Some fellows just can’t help being cheap and making asses of themselves – and I’m sorry darling that you had to put up with what you did. I’m mighty glad you had some real friends with you to see that you weren’t mistreated – and I think their attitude was swell, particularly Abbot’s, who echoed my own sentiments. That sort of party pest is one I’d like to poke in the face myself. Well just sit tight, sweetheart, and I’ll be home to see that you’re taken care of adequately at all times – and boy! will that ever be a pleasure!! As I’ve already written you, dear, I was not sleeping at the beginning of the year – and if you were thinking hard – about me – it was because I was doing the same about you. Our messages must have crossed paths somewhere in Mid-Atlantic.

We’ve been reading in the Stars and Stripes the past several days about how many letters and packages, both incoming and outgoing, were lost to the Germans during the recent counter-attack, and we all can’t help wondering what each of us is missing. We’ll not know for months, I guess. Not only that, but I sent out a few packages of odds and ends to you about that time – and I hope they all got out – although there was nothing included that was really very valuable, as I remember it.

Now – I’ve got several things to take care of in anticipation of tomorrow, dear, and you’ll just have to excuse me if I leave you for now. I hope you’re having a nice Sunday, whatever you’re doing, darling – and how I’d like to be doing it, too! My love to the folks, dear – and

All my sincerest and deepest love

Greg

P.S. Just another type of Christmas Card for the scrapbook, dear –

Love,

G.

* TIDBIT *

about Bombing Berlin

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USAAF 8th Airforce over Berlin, Germany
3 February 1945

According to Wikipedia, almost 1,000 B-17 bombers of the Eighth Air Force, protected by North American P-51 Mustangs attacked the Berlin railway system on the forenoon of 3 February 1945 in the belief that the German Sixth Panzer Army was moving through Berlin by train on its way to the Eastern Front. This was one of the few occasions on which the USAAF undertook a mass attack on a city center. Lt-General James Doolittle, commander of the USAAF Eighth Air Force, objected to this tactic, but he was overruled by the USAAF commander, General Carl Spaatz, who was supported by the Allied commander General Dwight Eisenhower. Eisenhower and Spaatz made it clear that the attack on Berlin was of great political importance in that it was designed to assist the Soviet offensive on the Oder east of Berlin, and was essential for Allied unity.

In the raid, led by highly decorated Jewish-American USAAF Lieutenant-Colonel Robert Rosenthal of the 100th Bombardment Group, Friedrichstadt (the newspaper district), and Luisenstadt (both divided between the boroughs of Kreuzberg and Mitte, the central area) and some other areas such as Friedrichshain were severely damaged. The bombs consisted mostly of incendiary and not high explosive ordnance, the area mostly hit did not include railway main lines, which were more northern (Stadtbahn) and southern (Ringbahn), but two terminal stations of Berlin (Anhalter and Potsdamer Bahnhof, the latter of which was already out of service since 1944 due to bomb destruction).

The bombing was so dense that it caused a city fire spreading eastwards, driven by the wind, over the south of Friedrichstadt and the northwest of neighboured Luisenstadt.

The fire lasted for four days until it had burnt everything combustible in its range to ashes and after it had reached waterways, and large thoroughfares, and parks that the fire could not jump over. Due to the exhaustion of German supplies the German anti-aircraft defense was underequipped and weak so that out of the 1,600 US aircraft committed only 36 were shot down and their crews - as far as they survived the crash of their planes - taken as prisoners-of-war.

A number of monuments, such as French Luisenstadt Church, St. James Church, Jerusalem's Church, Luisenstadt Church, St. Michael's Church, St. Simeon Church, and the Protestant Consistory (today's entrance of Jewish Museum Berlin) as well as government and Nazi Party buildings were also hit, including the Reich Chancellery, the Party Chancellery, the Gestapo headquarters, and the People's Court. The Unter den Linden, Wilhelmstrasse and Friedrichstrasse areas were turned into seas of ruins. Among the dead was Roland Freisler, the infamous head justice of the People's Court. The death-toll amounted to "only" 2,894, since the raid took place in daytime, and not surprising the inhabitants in their sleep. The number of wounded amounted to 20,000 and 120,000 were left homeless.

In the following excerpt from Mission to Berlin: The American Airmen Who Struck the Heart of Hitler's Reich, author Robert F. Dorr details the first harrowing American bomber runs of that monumental February 3rd mission.

February 3, 1945—10:51 a.m. to 11:30 a.m.

The stream of more than a thousand Eighth Air Force bombers, from one end to the other, was 360 miles long. At 10:51 a.m. British Summer Time on Saturday, February 3, 1945, when the first wave of Flying Fortresses reached Berlin, the last bomber was over the Zuiderzee in Holland.

At exactly that minute — 10:51 a.m. — a bomber dropped out of the bomber stream and turned for home. The aircraft was Happy Warrior, piloted by 1st Lt. William Settler of the 838th Bombardment Squadron, 487th Bombardment Group. Although at least one crewmember recalls the sequence of events differently—saying that Happy Warrior completed its run over Berlin—official records say that Settler aborted when his number one engine went out and he could not keep up with the formation. By this account, Settler dropped his bombs on a target of opportunity just north of Osnabruck and began the struggle to get home.

The bombers formation continued relentlessly ahead. Col. Lewis E. Lyle, commanding officer of the 379th Bombardment Group and air commander of the mission, said, “The bomber stream was three to five hundred miles long.” Lyle later said that each Fortress crew would spend only between thirty and sixty seconds over the center of Berlin itself, but that “every second would demand vigilance.” Lyle was at the front of the bomber stream when the formation, flying at 25,000 feet just north of Osnabruck, turned on the initial point, flying northeast on a heading of sixty-five degrees.

The initial point, or IP, was the point beyond which the bombardier of each lead aircraft controlled the flight path, using his Norden bombsight, and the Fortresses were expected to move ahead on an unwavering, straight-line heading, no matter how many flak blasts appeared ahead of them.

Lyle’s crew was 100 percent focused on the job of leading and guiding every one of the B-17s in the long lineup.

Lyle, who would be officially credited with sixty-seven combat missions but would claim seventy-two, was universally admired and respected but not always loved. Life aboard a B-17 with Lyle in command was remarkably straightforward, often silent, and sometimes downright sullen. “From the outset, my crew understood that they were not to talk or even eat until we hit the ground after the mission was completed,” Lyle later wrote. “If you were talking, your mind was not on the business at hand.” Lyle wrote that he became known as a strict disciplinarian who made sure crews “knew that I was the only person operating the aircraft and was the only crew member that could do something with the airplane for their "survival.” As commander of the entire Berlin mission, Lyle spent a little less time worrying about throttle, yoke, and rudder and a little more time on navigation, attack, and accuracy.

Lyle often used ten-foot cloth streamers obtained from the base parachute shop and tied to the fins of the lead Fortress’s bombs, to increase visibility of the lead airplane’s bombs when they were released.

As the first group over Berlin, Lyle’s 379th Bombardment Group passed through flak that an intelligence officer called “moderate, black, and accurate.” Some clearly felt that “moderate” was not a strong enough descriptor. Six Fortresses in Lyle’s 379th group took major damage, a dozen sustained minor damage, and one was lost. The B-17 piloted by 1st Lt. William Webber was hit by flak and lost over the Berlin city center. It was 11:02 a.m., British Summer Time.

Webber’s plane was The Birmingham Jewel of the 379th group’s 525th Bombardment Squadron. Webber and three others were killed. The Germans captured five crewmembers who survived the war. The dead were Webber, toggleer Staff Sgt. Raymond Weatherbee, radio operator Technical Sgt. Carl E. McHenry, and ball turret gunner Sgt. William I. Wells. The survivors were copilot 2nd Lt. James T. Kiester, navigator 2nd Lt. Thomas A. Pickett, engineer-gunner Technical Sgt. Harold F. Francis; waist gunner Staff Sgt. William Scarffe, and tail gunner Sgt. Bennett D. Howell.

Most bomber crewmembers formed few lasting impressions of Berlin itself, a plains city without distinctive terrain features. At the beginning and end of the bomber stream’s passage overhead, undercast covered the city’s rooftops and avenues. In the middle and end of the long bombing run, smoke churned skyward from bomb explosions. The ball turret gunner and tail gunner of a Flying Fortress—the latter in his uncomfortable, kneeling position facing rearward, had the best view but were busy calling out flak bursts and looking for the Luftwaffe fighters that never came. One member of the 379th group said, simply: “It was a city.”

In another bomber of Lyle’s 379th group, 1st Lt. Carl L. “Kayo” Cook was minding his bombardier’s position in the nose and possibly feeling some temporary relief that his Fortress had not yet been hit. Cook had just written to his wife, the former Helen Kraft, in Pender, Nebraska, cheerfully reporting that he’d be home soon because he had just six missions left to fly. He was the father of two daughters, including one born just three weeks before on January 12, whom he’d never seen. Cook’s mother-in-law had recently remarried. The family was planning a big homecoming for him.

A fragment of metal, apparently from a flak explosion, punctured the Fortress’s glass nose, continued into the cramped narrow tube of the fuselage, and killed Cook instantly.

No one else in his plane was touched. Cook’s crew would make it home without him.

A mighty machine unstoppable in its momentum, unable to slow down or change course, the Fortress formation pressed ahead while flak intensified and undercast and smoke began to shroud rooftops far below. One box of Fortresses after another, the bomber stream passed over the German capital.

02 February 1945

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

2 February, 1945           1830

Dearest sweetheart –

I love you and here it is late in the day and I’m just getting around to telling you. I’m too busy to write this right now honestly, darling, but I hate to miss the day. I started to say ‘I love you’ and got side-tracked; I not only love you, but I miss you, want you, need you – and aim to have you!! And the sooner the better, darling.

Chalk up 31 months of the Army for me, dearest – and I’m mighty glad it’s behind me. But I’m still kicking and I’ve got lots of pep left – and it’ll take more than this to get me down.

Sorry – kid – I have to run along. Be well, dear, love to the folks and

My everlasting love is yours

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about "As I Please"


George Orwell

"As I Please" was a series of articles written for the British left-wing newspaper Tribune by author and journalist George Orwell(real name Eric Blair), perhaps best known for his novels Animal Farm and 1984. On resigning from his job at the BBC in November 1943, Orwell joined Tribune as literary editor. Over the next three-and-a-half years he wrote a series of columns, under the title "As I Please." All of the "As I Please" columns can be found in The Collected Essays, Journalism, and Letters of George Orwell.

The articles allowed Orwell to digress freely over whatever topics came into his mind, including reminiscences, nature observations, gleanings from books and thoughts on the political situation. Each article roamed from one theme to another without any need for formal continuity but had no title indicating the content. The first article appeared in December 1943 and considered prevailing attitudes toward American servicemen in Britain.

Here is Orwell's "As I Please" piece for 2 February 1945. Of particular interest is his view, in the next to last paragraph, of the impact of "modern scientific inventions" on "international communication." How wrong he turned out to be on that point!

A not-too-distant explosion shakes the house, the windows rattle in their sockets, and in the next room the class of 1964 wakes up and lets out a yell or two. Each time this happens I find myself thinking, "Is it possible that human beings can continue with this lunacy very much longer?" You know the answer, of course. Indeed, the difficulty nowadays is to find anyone who thinks that there will not be another war in the fairly near future.

Germany, I suppose, will be defeated this year, and when Germany is out of the way Japan will not be able to stand up to the combined powers of Britain and the U.S.A. Then there will be a peace of exhaustion, with only minor and unofficial wars raging all over the place, and perhaps this so-called peace may last for decades. But after that, by the way the world is actually shaping, it may well be that war will become permanent. Already, quite visibly and more or less with the acquiescence of all of us, the world is splitting up into the two or three huge super-states forecast in James Burnham's Managerial Revolution. One cannot draw their exact boundaries as yet, but one can see more or less what areas they will comprise. And if the world does settle down into this pattern, it is likely that these vast states will be permanently at war with one another, though it will not necessarily be a very intensive or bloody kind of war. Their problems, both economic and psychological, will be a lot simpler if the doodlebugs are more or less continually whizzing to and fro.

If these two or three super-states do establish themselves, not only will each of them be too big to be conquered, but they will be under no necessity to trade with one another, and in a position to prevent all contact between their nationals. Already, for a dozen years or so, large areas of the earth have been cut off from one another, although technically at peace.

Some months ago, in this column, I pointed out that modern scientific inventions have tended to prevent rather than increase international communication. This brought me several angry letters from readers, but none of them were able to show that what I had said was false. They merely retorted that if we had Socialism, the aeroplane, the radio etc. would not be perverted to wrong uses. Very true, but then we haven't Socialism. As it is, the aeroplane is primarily a thing for dropping bombs and the radio primarily a thing for whipping up nationalism. Even before the war there was enormously less contact between the peoples of the earth than there had been thirty years earlier, and education was perverted, history re-written and freedom of thought suppressed to an extent undreamed of in earlier ages. And there is no sign whatever of these tendencies being reversed.

Maybe I am pessimistic. But at any rate those are the thoughts that cross my mind (and a lot of other people's too, I believe) every time the explosion of a V bomb booms through the mist.

01 February 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

1 February, 1945         1130

My dearest and only sweetheart –

First of all, I love you more than you can possibly imagine, because no matter how much I try, I believe I must fall short in expressing it! But you are the only girl in the world for me, darling, and I mean that – and no matter what I write or don’t write, that should sum up everything. I suppose I haven’t been the most ardent of fiancés – probably because sweet things don’t come easily from my lips, dear – but if you want one that’s sincere and honest and interested in only one girl, I’m that type. And that goes forever, sweetheart, not for just now, because I’m away from you, sentimental and lonesome. It’s because I am that way that I appreciate you all the more and my only regret is that I don’t tell you often enough.

My Birthday yesterday turned out wonderfully and for surprises – you take the cake, darling (literally). It was shaping up as a pretty drab one – and I believe I wrote you that nothing unusual happened. Well I was busy most of the p.m. and got back late. We eat at 1700 and I appeared about 1715. Everyone was at the table and when I came in the Colonel led the singing of “Happy Birthday – dear doctor”. I still didn’t notice anything until I sat down and there – in the center of the table, was this big gorgeous cake – with the words “Happy Birthday – from Wilma”. My first reaction was that someone of the boys had arranged for our kitchen to bake it – but I realized immediately that they couldn’t possibly have made so lovely a cake. The boys kept me guessing awhile and then I heard how the special service office had been contacted by Special Services of Corps who had in turn been contacted by Red Cross in Paris. It was a wonderful idea, darling, a complete surprise – and I can only say “Thanks!!” Later in the evening several of the boys who could get off came up to the Dispensary and I opened a bottle of cognac and guess what – the box of cookies you had sent me a long time ago in one of your Christmas packages. I had saved it – I didn’t know for what – but it just came in right last nite. So darling – I had a pretty swell Birthday – considering you weren’t around – and there’s still a bit of a war on.

And I got some mail, too! Three letters were from you – the last part of December and the 3rd of January; also one from my Dad and a birthday card from Eleanor – the only Card I’ve received to date, by the way. In Dad A’s letter was an enclosed photo of my folks and Lawrence – and it really was good taking a look at them. They looked fine too.

One of your letters, darling, was in answer to one I wrote explaining why I didn’t tell you all about the war, dear. Apparently I’ve been a better liar than I’ve thought I’ve been; often I felt I was telling you more than I ought to for your morale. My restraint must be good – and I’m not going to change at this stage of the game. I wasn’t anyway, darling, but I had no idea at all that you felt we were rear troops. We weren’t. But you go on and imagine the nice things, darling, because it isn’t always rough – by any manner of means. Time for lunch – excuse me dear.

12:40

Well, well, well – I got the whole story about the cake from Ted [Frederick C.] Aber – our S.S. officer. I didn’t see him yesterday. The way it went – was this: he heard from R.C. when we were in this same town – the very end of Dec. They told him to get it (the cake) baked anywhere and submit the bill to them. Then we started our trek all over the country until we came back here several days ago. Then Ted started looking for a baker, couldn’t find one and asked one of the inhabitants about it. It turned out to be a woman whom I had treated when we were last here and when she heard what was wanted – she insisted on baking the cake herself – and she did! She did a wonderful job and I must go down and thank her for it later on. Incidentally – every one of the officers knew about it – but they kept the surprise intact.

And now – darling – I must leave you for awhile. I’m still trying to get myself showered and I’m trying another spot this p.m. So – so long for now, sweetheart, be well – send my love to the folks – and

All my everlasting love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about the Cake Confirmation

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AMERICAN RED CROSS
Hq. VII Corps, APO 307, U.S. Army

Feb. 11, 1945

Mrs. Jane L. Day
Supervisor
American Red Cross
161 Mass. Avenue
Boston, Mass.

Dear Mrs. Day,                                                 RE: Capt. A.

Reference to your letter of December 13, 1944,  requesting that we get a birthday cake for the above captioned officer.

The cake was baked by a Belgian woman who wouldn't take any money. It had in chocolate letters on the white-frosted top: "Happy Birthday from Wilma." Captain A. was duely surprised and pleased.

We are happy to have been able to be of service.

                                                                   Very truly yours,


                                                                   Charles C. Broaddus, Jr.
                                                                   Field Director, ARC

31 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

31 January, 1945      0945

My dearest darling –

It’s raining today and just as warm as can be. It’s sure raising hell with the snow and I see no tears being shed. A native told me yesterday that it wasn’t at all unusual to have a week’s rain in early February, followed by 3 or 4 days of strong wind. Everything dries up then according to him – and that’s the end of the snow. Sounds good, dear, if true.

But the news from Russia sounds even better, and following our Operations map each day is really fun. It seems as if almost anything can happen from here in, and it’s about time – if you ask me, darling.

Last night I stayed around the Dispensary and played cribbage with the Dentist. Usually we hang around the C.P. of an evening. I got to bed about 2200 – which is earlier than usual.

I was just re-reading a letter of yours written 13 December, dear. You had been over to see my folks – and although you don’t say too much about it, I know how difficult things must be at times; but be patient, sweetheart, it will be much easier when I get back. Easy or hard though, you’re finding out a whole lot more about me than I know of you. Do you realize how little I actually know about your early days, dear? I never had the opportunity to sit around with your folks and talk about you – but I’m not worried in the least – and anyway – I’d just as soon find out from you. You also mention marriage, “honeymoon and rest”. That’s the usual order too, sweetheart, particularly the rest. But if you intended to imply that I’d need a rest after being in the war – that won’t be necessary at all. I hear a lot of enlisted men and officers say that when they get home – they’re going to use some of the money they’ve saved – for an extended vacation. I can’t see that at all. Personally – I’ll be very anxious to get started on whatever I’m going to do – and the sooner the better – it seems to me. I’m not very tired – physically – and anything outside of the Army will be a pleasure.

Boy – I got a real kick out of your Shirley ‘Burton’ story. I had no idea that Leonard wrote plays also. He really is talented isn’t he? And where did Shirley get her dramatic training? She’s quite a girl – and it seems as if I didn’t appreciate all her qualities when I met her.

And darling – here I’ve been celebrating my Birthday for about 10 days and I almost forgot to mention it. I hate to write it – but your ‘surprise’ has not yet materialized – but it makes no difference about the date, darling. I’ll be surprised whatever and whenever it is. That’s fair enough – isn’t it? The mail still fails to assume any regularity and there’s nothing to be done about it. I have one bottle of cognac left and tonite we’ll open it and have a mild celebration. But my thoughts, love and heart are with you today – as always and just chalk up one more special day we owe each other.

Have to stop now, sweetheart – sick-call is beginning. I love you, love you, love you! Never forget that!! Best to the folks

All my sincerest love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Shirley "Burton"


Shirley Bernstein, Arthur Levine and Leonard "Lenny" Bernstein

When Greg mentioned "the Shirley 'Burton' story", he must have been responding to Wilma's mention of Leonard and Shirley Bernstein's involvement with the play "On the Town" when it opened at New York's Adelphi Theatre on 28 December 1944. Shirley had been Wilma's roommate at Mount Holyoke College, and Wilma naturally followed Lenny's early career, keeping in touch with Shirley.

"On the Town" was an original Broadway musical comedy about three sailors on a day of shore leave in New York City looking for fun and romance before their twenty-four hours are up.

Lenny, Jerome Robbins, Betty Comden and Adolph Green
Rehearsing for "On the Town", 1944

The music was written by Leonard Bernstein and orchestrated by Lenny and four others. The lyrics were written primarily by Betty Comden and Adolph Green, with additional lyrics by Leonard Bernstein. The screenplay by Betty Comden and Adolph Green was based on an idea by Jerome Robbins. It was directed by George Abbott and choreographed by Jerome Robbins.

On opening night, the following were among the cast: Sono Osato as Ivy Smith, Nancy Walker as Hildy Esterhazy, Cris Alexander as Chip, John Battles as Gabey, Robert Chisholm as Pitkin W. Bridgework, Betty Comden as Claire deLoone, Adolph Green as Ozzie, Ray Harrison as The Great Lover, Susan Steell as Madame Maude P. Dilly, and Maxine Arnold as Little Old Lady. And among the "Singing Ensemble" was one Shirley Ann Burton.

Knowing the story of the Bernstein family unravels the connection between Shirley Ann Burton and Shirley Anne Bernstein. It turns out that Leonard and Shirley had a brother named "Burton." In order to perform without appearing to be related to Leonard, Shirley simply used her brother's name as her "stage" last name.

Shirley, Lenny and Burton "Bertie" Bernstein, 1949

Lenny was born Louis Bernstein on 25 August 1918 in Lawrence, Massachusetts, the son of Ukrainian Jewish parents Jennie and Samuel Bernstein. His family spent their summers at their vacation home in Sharon, Massachusetts. His grandmother insisted that his first name be "Louis," but his parents always called him "Leonard," which they preferred. He officially changed his name to "Leonard" when he was fifteen, shortly after his grandmother's death. To his friends and many others he was simply known as "Lenny." His father, Sam Bernstein, was a businessman and owner of a bookstore in downtown Lawrence. At a very young age, Lenny listened to a piano performance and was immediately captivated; he subsequently began learning the piano seriously when the family acquired his cousin Lillian Goldman's unwanted piano. Sam initially opposed young Leonard's interest in music. Despite this, the elder Bernstein took him to orchestra concerts in his teenage years and eventually supported his music education. Exhibiting some of his father's resolve and resourcefulness, Lenny raised money to pay for his own lessons by teaching younger kids and recruited his talented sister Shirley to share his enthusiasms.

Leonard's sister, Shirley Anne Bernstein, was born on 23 October 1923. She was named after her mother's favorite actress, Anne Shirley.

Sam, Lenny, Shirley and Jennie Bernstein

As a child Lenny was very close to his younger sister Shirley, and would often play entire operas or Beethoven symphonies with her at the piano. At nine years old, with teeth missing, she delivered the prologue of Bizet's Carmen in a community production staged by Lenny in a Sharon (Massachusetts) resort hotel's dining room. At age 11, she was featured in Lenny's production of Gilbert and Sullivan's Mikado at the Sharon Town Hall auditorium. That answers Greg's question, "And where did Shirley get her dramatic training?" Shirley and Lenny remained extremely close throughout their lives. "On the Town" was made into a movie in 1949, starring Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra.

30 January 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 230 % Postmaster, N.Y.

30 January, 1945       1120

Dearest sweetheart –

Yes – you guessed it – sick call is just about over and it’s a little bit quieter now, but only a little bit quieter. It’s snowing today, as usual, but from what I hear on the radio – our weather isn’t as cold as what you’re getting in Boston. And Boston can get damned cold – as I remember it. We haven’t had it too bad here – all in all – and the past week has been particularly easy. For example, last night about 23 or 25 of the officers were able to get together at Battalion and we actually set up 5 tables of Bridge and played for a couple of hours. What a strange war! That’s the one thing I’ll always remember about it. You’re never miserable or content for any length of time. And if you can manage to stick out the tough episodes – without cracking up – there’s enough opportunity for relaxation. The odd part of it is where and how you relax. You do it usually in the same spot where a short while before – perhaps the night before – you were very tense. And it’s because of that fact that you relax all the harder. I suppose you can call it escape, but it does help.

You write me every now and then that you wonder how I don’t complain more and don’t often seem more discouraged. I’m glad you feel that way, dear, because sometimes I feel as if my letters must sound awfully depressing to you – although the Lord knows I try not to make them so. If I’m not always blue and morose as so many around me are – it’s because I insist in making everything connected with this war – a temporary phenomenon. I just can’t help getting a tremendous lift when I realize that someday this will be over and behind me – and I’ll be back with you – the sweetest girl a guy could wish to come home to. Your constancy and good spirit about all that has gone on has truly been an inspiration to me, sweetheart, and I’ll never be able to repay you adequately. Your letters to me have been steady, sweet, sincere – and appreciative of what we have had to put up with – and that’s almost more than a fellow can expect. My own letters to you have been steady, too, and that has been as much a surprise to me as perhaps to you – considering where we’ve been these past 7 months. But except under very unusual circumstances – you can most often find a time of the day in which to jot a note a least. What else my letters have been to you, darling, I don’t know. They’re not always what you’d like them to be, I know that – but sweetheart – writing is sometimes so very difficult; if it’s not cold, it may be wet; it’s almost never quiet – and more often than not the place is crowded with soldiers on sick-call waiting for a ride back to their outfit or for our run to the Hospital. The phone rings almost as much as yours, I’ll bet, and 50% of the time I have to speak; the other 50% my staff sergeant takes care of things. But with all the confusion – etc, and discounting my mental state – which isn’t always tops by any manner of means – I know each and every morning that I want to sit down and write or talk to you and I don’t feel content until I at least start. Perhaps I don’t always succeed in telling you just how much I love you and why, but that thought is always in my heart and I just know, darling, that you must be fully aware of that by now. Oh there are thousands of details – it seems to me – that we’ll have to take up when I get back; but one of them will not be the question of our love for each other – and that is the most important thing of all. And with that thought, darling, I think I’ll have to stop because I’m late. I hope you’re well, dear, taking care of yourself for me and loving me. All my love for now, sweetheart – and remember – you’ll have it for always.

Greg

P.S. By the way – I love you!

G.

* TIDBIT *

about the Effort in the Eifel
Part 2

As previously mentioned, the 1st Infantry and 82d Airborne Divisions of the XVIII Airborne Corps opened the attack on 28 January. The next day the VIII Corps attacked with the 87th, 4th, and 90th Divisions. On the 30th, the V Corps jumped off in thenorth. The following excerpt comes from "U.S. Army in WWII European Theater of Operations: The Last Offensive" by Charles B. MacDonald for the Department of the Army's Office of the Chief of Military History, Chapter III, p 63, published in 1973 in Washington, D.C. The pictures come from other sites on the internet.

The story of all these first attacks could be told almost in a word: weather. By the end of January the month's unusually heavy snowfall and low temperatures had left a snow cover one to two feet deep everywhere and in some places drifts up to a man's waist. Snow glazed the hills, choked the valleys and the roads, and hid the enemy's mines. On the first day, it snowed again all day and into the night.

Plowing through the deep snow, the two divisions of the XVIII Airborne Corps encountered only sporadic opposition, often taking the form of occasional patrols or scattered rifle fire. Yet men marching all day through the snow even without sight or sound of the enemy were exhausted when night came from sheer physical exertion. It would take the two divisions four full days to traverse the eight to twelve miles from their jump-off positions to the high ground confronting the West Wall in the Losheim Gap, a key route from Belgium into Germany.

A Part of Losheim - Today

It was in some ways a curious twilight war. One night, for example, a patrol from the 82d Airborne Division, sent to investigate a report that the adjacent 87th Division had occupied a village near Losheim, found no soldiers, American or German. Behind blackout curtains the villagers had their lights on. Now and then a shell crashed nearby, and between times the paratroopers could hear babies crying.

On the other hand, an enemy who was nowhere in particular might be anywhere.

As happened at the village of Holzheim, where on 29 January a company of the 82d Airborne's 508th Parachute Infantry seized 80 prisoners while overrunning the village. Leaving the prisoners under a 4-man guard, the bulk of the company had moved on when a German patrol sneaked back into the village, overpowered the guards, and freed the prisoners. Onto this scene stumbled the company's first sergeant. Surprised, he pretended to surrender, but as the Germans moved to disarm him, he swung his submachine gun from his shoulder and opened fire. Seizing German weapons, the 4-man guard joined the fight. In the melee that ensued, 21 Germans were killed and the rest again surrendered.

Aerial View of Holzheim, Germany - Today
(From Google Maps)

Or as happened one night early in the attack when a platoon of paratroopers advanced down a narrow road between three-foot banks of snow thrown up by German plows. Three tanks rumbled between the files of riflemen. Out of the darkness, dead ahead, suddenly appeared a German company, marching forward in close formation. The banks of hard snow on either side of the road meant no escape for either force. The paratroopers opened fire first, their accompanying tanks pouring withering machine gun fire into the massed enemy. Surprised and without comparable fire support, unable to scatter or retreat, the Germans had no chance. Almost 200 were killed; a handful surrendered. Not an American was hurt.

According to General Hodge's diary, 1000 prisoners of war were taken by First Army on the 29th, and more than a thousand were taken on the 30th.