21 July 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

21 July, 1945      0900

Nancy

My dearest darling Wilma –

Gee this month is rolling right along and a good many fellows who have arrived home are digging into their 30 days. As much as I’d love to be home now – I know darn well how much I would dread having to leave again for more overseas duty. And it wouldn’t be the fear of combat, either, because I went through enough of that to realize it’s all in the breaks. But once home – with you and the folks – and no doubt married – well I know I’d want to go AWOL.

With all my inquiries etc. I still can’t figure out my own disposition. It seems as if when a Cat. IV outfit finally gets ready to be redeployed – everyone with less than 85 points gets separated from the outfit. That would include me – with 82. Where I would go – I don’t know; I may even be all wet in regards to that dope. I hope I am, for somehow or other I’d like to come back to the States with this outfit. Anyway – each day I remain here is good. It means more troops ahead of me are getting home and then leaving for the Pacific and the more that get there – the better I like it. Meanwhile they keep sending more occupational troops into Germany. Well with Germany being filled up – and also the Pacific – there’s only one place for me to go, darling, and that’s home!

I received a letter of June 26 and one from 13 July from you yesterday, dear. One contained a sketch by Cyn and you asked me if I see any likeness. Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t know because it’s so darned difficult for me to visualize you after all this time. It’s a keen sketch, though.

There was also an item about Irv Feldman that kind of made me angry – although it’s none of my business and I don’t know the guy. But frankly, dear, the taking of a Leave – without getting it recorded – is about as cheap a trick as is possible in the Army or Navy. He sure would be in line for a heluva lot of trouble. As much as I’d love to be able to visit a wife and baby of mine, I could never get myself to do anything like that. Anyway – I’ve got a lot of leave time due me now – and even after I get my 30 days – the government will owe me a lot of time – because accrued leave is figured on the basis of 2 ½ days per month. My last leave (7 days) was in March ’44 – and even before that – I hadn’t used up what was coming to me. You never really catch up on it though, but I believe they pay you when you’re discharged for the time coming to you.

I was sorry to read about Sylvia B. and the trouble, present and anticipated, in her adjusting to her new life. When Florence wrote me – she often went into detail about Sylvia and the trouble she had with her – Now without a mother – Phil really has a problem and the kid’s in a tough age to be changed so much.

Well I’ve just been interrupted by a couple of fellows who dropped in to see me. The sketch of you by Cyn was lying on the desk where I’m writing now, and they wanted to know who it was. One of the fellows thought it looked like Barbara Stanwyck – so of course I told them it was an exact likeness of you – only that you were prettier – which of course you are!

And now it’s past 1000 and at 1015 I’ve got to sit on a Section Eight Board, as medical member. It won’t be a difficult one because I’ve already had the fellow seen by a psychiatrist and he’s been classified as a Constitutional Psychopath.

And so for another day, sweetheart, I’ll say ‘so long’ and remind you again, as I’m always trying to do – that I love you as keenly and sincerely as I know how. I miss you terribly these evenings, particularly, but I can wait it out – knowing that you are doing the same. So be well, dear, take care of yourself – and send my love to the folks.

All my deepest love for now.

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Soldier Art

 

On 21 July 1945, Eleanor Roosevelt wrote this:

One of the very interesting things to come out of the war has been the discovery of new artistic talent in various forms among soldiers and sailors, regardless of where they may be.

It is not very surprising to find that men who have had the ability to express themselves before in writing or as artists continue to do so even under the pressure of war conditions, for all art expression is a release from strain. Also, the artistic temperament usually is an emotional one which responds to every incident of life. Therefore, one can well understand that a man who was a writer or artist before he entered the service scribbles or paints or sculpts no matter where he is or what he is obliged to do.

The remarkable thing that has happened is that many new artists have emerged and have shown a degree of competence which one would hardly have expected.

* * *

Early this month, in Washington, D. C., a soldiers' art exhibition was sponsored jointly by the National Gallery and the Special Services Division of the Army Service Forces. Eight soldiers were awarded prizes of $100 war bonds. These winners were the best of 9,000 final entries chosen at other exhibitions held under Army sponsorship. The work was done in off-duty time, under the Army's program of promoting arts and crafts as a leisure-time activity.

This special exhibition will be open through September 4th. It contains paintings in different mediums, mural designs, sculpture, drawings, prints and photographs.

"GI's in Paris",
oil painting by Floyd Davis, a winning entry


"Bob Hope Entertaining Troops Somewhere in England",
by Floyd Davis

Though I have been unable to visit the exhibition, I have greatly enjoyed looking through the little book in which many of the winning productions are reproduced. It is called "Soldier Art" and is published in the Fighting Forces Series. I think it is a record of which we will be proud in the future, for it will show that, even in the midst of war, we fostered a great civilizing activity.

It is interesting that I have been sent some clippings of some rather severe editorials in several Southern newspapers on the subject of a speech made by an important gentleman in Congress criticizing our Negro troops. There does not seem to be complete agreement with this gentleman's point of view. I have also seen some letters from officers in charge of Negro troops overseas who are greatly affronted. So perhaps, if this gentleman in Congress takes the trouble to read the papers, he may realize that he was intemperate in his remarks.

* * *
E. R.
(COPYRIGHT, 1945, BY UNITED FEATURE SYNDICATE, INC.)

20 July 1945

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

20 July, 1945      1100

Nancy

My dearest Sweetheart –

We’ve just been inspected – that’s the inspection we were supposed to have yesterday – and after the usual snow-job which I’m so used to giving – we got an Excellent rating. There’s far more chicken to put up with here – than in Combat, but if it’s a necessary evil before going home – I can keep taking it.

I missed you a lot last night, darling. The moon was only half-full but hell – I miss you even when there’s no moon at all. How I long to just be with you, hold your hand, go walking – talking; damn it. I get so darned impatient at times, darling – I don’t know what to do.

There’s still no news here – but each day sees more outfits headed for the Pacific and that’s O.K. with me, dear. One of these days, weeks or months I ought to be heading home to stay.

All for now –

All my deepest love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Flag-Raising over Berlin


Eisenhower, Patton and Truman watch flag raising

Shortly after 4:00 p.m., on 20 July 1945, General Eisenhower, General Patton, and Presdient Truman stood at attention while the American flag was raised over the U.S. Group Control Council Headquarters in the conquered city of Berlin. In fitting symbolism, this was the same flag that had flown over the United States Capitol on the day the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. Here is the speech given by President Truman:

GENERAL EISENHOWER, OFFICERS AND MEN:

This is an historic occasion. We have conclusively proven that free people can successfully look after the affairs of the world.

We are here today to raise the flag of victory over the capital of our greatest adversary. In doing that we must remember that in raising that flag we are raising it in the name of the people of the United States who are looking forward to a better world, a peaceful world, a world in which all people will have the opportunity to enjoy the good things of life, and not just a few at the top.

Let us not forget that we are fighting for peace and for the welfare of mankind. We are not fighting for conquest. There is not one piece of territory or one thing of a monetary nature that we want out of this war.

We want peace and prosperity for the world as a whole. We want to see the time come when we can do the things in peace that we have been able to do in war.

If we can put this tremendous machine of ours, which has made victory possible, to work for peace, we can look forward to the greatest age in the history of mankind. That is what we propose to do.

19 July 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

19 July, 1945     0845

Nancy

Dearest darling Wilma –

I’m starting a little earlier than usual today because we’re having an inspection a little later in the morning and I’ll probably be busy. That’s what Com. Zone loves – inspections. It makes them feel so darned important. But I’m immune to inspection by now, and they concern me very little. The boys know how to prepare for them.

And yesterday I got some mail and just think – one from you, sweetheart, was postmarked 12 July – taking only 6 days to reach me. Gee – I can read what you wrote and I need think back only a week and I can see it all. I’m pretty certain my mail to you is taking a longer time en route because there was an article in yesterday’s Star and Stripes saying that airmail during the month of July would go by ship. When the rush is over, mail will again come by plane. I also heard from my folks and Mary. At long last it seems as if Mother A is getting a complete rest – and if it could only be a mental rest, too, I’d be happy. But with no house work, shopping etc. – there’s no doubt that she’ll be in much better health by the time the summer’s over. Now if Dad A will close his place and do the same for a few weeks, I’ll be satisfied. He’s been working hard, although he never mentions it. But I know that business inside out and with help as it’s been, I know how much running around he’s been doing.

Yesterday was another quiet day here – the monotony being broken up by a game of tennis in the late p.m. I played with some Frenchmen who play a pretty sharp game and my own game is getting better as a result. The French really love the game of Tennis – and at the club there’s always a group of kids playing on their own court. I was tired – when evening came – so I took a hot bath and sat around and read. Everyone had gone out – downtown – movies, officers’ club – etc. etc. and it was pleasantly quiet. I started reading a new book – “Boston Adventure” – by Jean something or other. I don’t know yet whether or not I’m going to like it.

By the way – you wrote about Dr. Courtiss forgetting to tell his wife about a dinner party etc and then you added you’d be furious if the same had occurred to you. You wouldn’t, though, I’m pretty sure. I don’t suppose Dr. Courtiss is any more absent-minded than I am – but even in the short time I was in practice I found how occupied your mind can get over this case or that – and dinner sometimes seems unimportant – or at least is pushed out of your mind temporarily. No – it’s not a question of knowing better, dear, as you suggest. I think a doctor’s wife has really got a tough job; Just warning you, darling, although frankly I don’t think you’ll have much trouble with me – that is unless you call being kissed, hugged and loved constantly – trouble. Because that’s what I’m going to do to you, sweetheart – over and over again. Yes, an expression of love – on paper – seems empty after all these months. It never was satisfactory dear, but it has been the best substitute for the real thing – and it must have had something to it – to have kept us together all this time. And will we enjoy the real thing !!

All for now, dear. Love to the family and

All my sincerest love –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Boston Adventure and its Author


Boston Adventure

Here is a Kirkus Review of Boston Adventure by Jean Stafford, published on 21 September 1944 by Harcourt Brace...

A strange and unusual book -- essentially sophisticated in almost a European way, and yet -- in retrospect -- the sophistication is only skin deep. The story starts when Sonia, -- daughter of German father, a Russian mother, -- is about 13, sensitive, imaginative, idealistic, in spite of the sordidness of poverty and the atmosphere of hate, suspicion, resentment at home. Sonia's ideal is Miss Pride, Boston Brahmin, who summers at the hotel on Boston's North Shore where Sonia's mother works. Sonia dreams of being taken into Miss Pride's home and eventually, after the shame of her father's desertion, the terror of her baby brother's epilepsy and death which drives her mother insane, Sonia is taken to Boston to train as secretary to Miss Pride (and to feed her sense of power). The "Boston adventure" shows the inside of Boston society, its hollowness, its pretense (a little of Marquand here), which Sonia absorbs eagerly. When Miss Pride's willful, disillusioned niece commits suicide, Sonia is caught -- held by a promise not to marry (haunted as she is by fear of her own sanity) to stay with her benefactress to her death.... A futile sort of book, with an underlying bitterness of spirit. Sonia herself never comes wholly alive -- though she tells her own story, her emotions seem derivative, unreal -- even her two ventures into romance are abortive, unconvincing, immature. But the scathing portrait of Boston's inner social circle is cruelly well done... The publishers are featuring it as their big dark horse. It will have substantial backing, people will discuss it, but many may not like it.

Jeffrey Scheuer offers this biography of Jean Stafford:

Jean Stafford, Author

Jean Stafford, (1 July 1915 - 26 March 1979), novelist and short story writer, was born in Covina, California, the youngest of four children of John Richard Stafford and Mary Ethel McKillop Stafford. Stafford's three novels were well-received, and the first, Boston Adventure (1944), was a best-seller. But it was her Collected Short Stories (1969), which originally appeared in The New Yorker and other magazines, that earned her the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1970. The Pulitzer jury cited the "range in subject, scene and mood" in these bleak but elegantly crafted tales, which are often highly autobiographical. Their central characters, mainly women and adolescents, inhabit a harsh, unromantic America: a place of loneliness and loss where innocence dies hard, social convention weighs on the individual, and experience is a cruel teacher.

At age five, Stafford moved with her family from California to Colorado, where her eccentric father wrote western stories for pulp magazines under the names Jack Wonder and Ben Delight, while her mother ran a boarding house near the University of Colorado campus in Boulder. Stafford's writing weaves together the various strands of her upbringing: the natural grandeur of the West; isolation and loneliness in youth and adolescence; and her struggle against what she regarded, with a strong sense of shame, as the cramped, spiritually impoverished world of her parents. Late in her life, she would write to her sister Marjorie Pinkham: "For all practical purposes I left home when I was 7."

A series of traumas scarred Stafford's early adulthood. While attending the University of Colorado, where she earned concurrent bachelor's and master's degrees in 1936, she witnessed the suicide by shooting of her friend Lucy McKee. After a year studying philology in Heidelberg, Germany, she returned to Boulder, where she met the poet Robert Lowell at a writers' conference. And in 1938, she was severely injured in an automobile accident in which Lowell was driving, and had to undergo reconstructive facial surgery. Her only brother died in World War II. Stafford taught briefly at St. Stephens College, in Columbia, Missouri, but disliked teaching; she also worked at The Southern Review in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and lived with Lowell in New York City and Tennessee before moving to Boston, where (despite suing him in connection with the accident) she married him in 1940.

Stafford gained overnight celebrity with the publication of her first novel, Boston Adventure, in 1944. The book is a coldly satirical account of initiation into Boston society, as seen by the daughter of a modest immigrant family. Reviews in Boston were mixed, but H.M. Jones in the Saturday Review of Literature called it "memorable and haunting," adding that "Miss Stafford is a commanding talent, who writes in the great tradition of the English novel." The New Yorker compared Boston Adventure to the work of Proust for its "ceaseless vivisection of individual experience." According to Thomas Lask in The New York Times, the novel was "mandarin and embroidered, yet it conveyed with claustrophobic exactness the ingrown, hothouse atmosphere" of its Brahmin setting. The book earned Stafford the Merit Award from Mademoiselle magazine in 1944. In 1945, she won a Guggenheim fellowship and a $1000 award from the American Academy and National Institute of Arts and Letters.

Though she spent most of her adult life in the East, Stafford never escaped the psychic tolls of her youth; literary success brought her little happiness, and her physical and emotional health remained frail. The marriage to Lowell was disastrous, and ended in divorce in 1948. In 1946-47, she spent nearly a year at the Payne Whitney clinic in New York being treated for alcoholism and depression, which would continue to plague her throughout her life. An autobiographical story in The New Yorker titled "Children Are Bored on Sunday" marked her return to writing and the beginning of a long association with that magazine, including twenty-one stories and several articles over a decade's time, and a close, thirty-year relationship with its fiction editor, Katharine White.

18 July 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

18 July, 1945     0930

Nancy

My dearest Sweetheart –

Again I neglected you yesterday but for a very good reason. I went visiting and was gone all day – and I had a swell time. Yes, I went to see Frank Morse and it sure was like old times. His hospital is Category IV also – but Frank is rated as a specialist – and he’s not certain what will happen to him.

Dr. Frank P. Morse, Jr. with his wife Suzy, after the war.

The biggest surprise though was running into two other fellows – both of whom had spent some time at the Beverly Hospital, a fellow named Bill Pierce, and the other one named Harold Gregory. That, incidentally, was very odd. He was the fellow who replaced me and the day we were introduced – there was a lot of double talk. I got his mail and he, mine – for a long time after I had left Beverly. Anyway, dear, there they were both at the 16th General with Frank – and so we really had things to talk over. I say I had a swell time; I should have added “all in all”. Because when I finally left and headed back here – I was feeling kind of sad. I attended a clinical conference in the p.m., looked the hospital over, etc. – and as usual – what I’ve been missing all these years hit me between the eyes and I feel low. There’s no question about it, darling, that time is irretrievable and that’s all. But I’m kind of resigned to it now and I guess I’ll make up for it in some way or other – at a later date.

I’ll probably visit with Frank again and he may come up for a visit with me for a week-end. Right now his hospital is undermanned and it’s difficult for him to get away. Incidentally – he’s now acting chief of the surgical service – and the job calls for a Lt. Colonelcy and he’s got a good chance of getting it, too. You just have to be in the right spot at the right time to get promoted in the Army – and an AA Bn. is not the right spot. But as Dante used to say, “What the Hell – ”.

Meanwhile I got back and found 3 letters from you, dear, the most recent one – 9 July. One of them gave me a good laugh – your speculating about various spots where we might end up – in the States. And the way you tossed around places like the Walter Reed, Cushing and the Lovell General – is really something, sweetheart. I’ll probably end up in some Dispensary job, the Lord knows where, and so long as you’re with me, sweetheart, I won’t care. You must realize, dear, that by now – in the Army Medical Records, I’m just listed as a Bn. Surgeon and nothing more. They just don’t take us into a hospital and put us to work doing surgery.

But it will be swell, darling, as you say, to have a job at a post and have you living nearby; having my nights off and no night calls. And don’t forget, by the time that all comes to pass – I probably won’t be sweating out an overseas assignment – as so many other fellows are doing now. It’s going to be wonderful being married to you, darling, and I’m sure that we’ll be happy. I’m going to love you so hard and constantly – you’ll love it. Wait and see –

I’ll stop now, dear, and say ‘so long’. Be with you tomorrow. Love to the folks – and

All my deepest love and devotion,

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about The Second Halifax Explosion


Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada in the foreground
Bedford Basin beyond

During the war in Europe, the Port of Halifax and Bedford Basin on Canada's east coast Nova Scotia peninsula had hosted transport ships, tankers, warships of all types, and merchant marine cargo vessels, all supplying materials and personnel for the war effort. They gathered here from all along the eastern seaboard of the United States, as well as from other Canadian ports. Following the resolution in Europe, war continued in the Pacific. While most Canadians returned home following VE day, Atlantic vessels were refit on the east coast for transfer to the Pacific theater. As part of the refit process, all ammunition was removed from ships in port. The ammunition was stored in the Canadian Naval Ammunition Storage Depot at Bedford Basin, just inland from the main port of Halifax.

Throughout the war there was always the fear in this seaport community of a repetition of the huge explosion of the 1917 ammunition ship collision, when, on December 6, the Mont Blanc steamed up from the harbor mouth where she had anchored overnight. Her cargo consisted of TNT, tons of picric acid, and a deck load of benzol drums. About the same time, the Norwegian steamer Imo chartered for Belgian relief purposes, came out of Bedford Basin. At the Narrows, the two collided. The result was the largest man-made explosion prior to Hiroshima, with over 1,600 deaths recorded and the destruction of thousands of homes.

By 18 July 1945 the Bedford Basin Magazine held an inordinate quantity of shells, bombs, mines, torpedoes, depth charges, and other powerful materials. Much of the ammunition was stowed away in the carefully designed and segregated buildings, but of necessity a good deal had been stacked outdoors for lack of storage space, and these dumps extended close to the jetty on the Bedford Basin.

At about 6:30 pm, after daytime workers had already gone homefor the night, an explosion was sparked by a stove left burning in a barge. When that explosion went off the ammunition on the jetty exploded, setting off other stacks of ammunition. The ground shook for miles around, and the jetty and the barge tied alongside disappeared. A high mushroom like cloud rose above the Magazine that could be seen from distances well beyond the populated areas surrounding Bedford Basin.

Mushroom Cloud following explosion of munitions in Halifax

The first explosion killed a night guard, and at about 7:40 pm, just an hour after the original outbreak, there occurred a second explosion almost equal in intensity. After that there was a continuous roll of exploding ammunition of all kinds. The larger blasts could be anticipated about 10 seconds following a flash.

Explosions continue

Finally at about 10:00 pm there was one major crack that really shook the solid steel and concrete federal building, at least three miles as the crow flies from the Magazine. The 30 foot square tower actually rocked back and forth several times on its foundations. Fairly heavy explosions continued to occur regularly until almost midnight when a very heavy detonation took place.

Large flash at midnight

Minor explosions continued throughout the night. Among several big explosions, the largest came at 4:00 am, Thursday, July 19, when a concentration of over 360 depth charges and bombs went up, leaving a huge crater. The shock wave shook foundations, blew off roofs and crossed the broad expanse of Bedford Basin to ricochet through the streets of downtown Halifax, breaking windows alternatively from side to side. Cartridges, the majority of which were four-inch, exploded intermittently well into the next day. The booming, banging, and whizzing went on for several days, but the worst was over.

Storefront glass shattered by Halifax explosion

Fortunately the fire never reached the main magazine housed at the bunker where 50,000 depth charges were stored. In 1995, some 50 years after "The Second Halifax Explosion, the military began to remove some of the ammunition that fell into the harbor and remained corroding in the silt. They used the subtle method of blowing it all up.

17 July 1945

No letter today. Just this:

* TIDBIT *

about the Potsdam Conference - Day 1
and the "Iron Curtain" result


Stalin, Truman and Churchill at Potsdam - 17 July 1945

On 17 July 1945, the conference of Allied victors at Potsdam, outside of Berlin, began, with Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin, U.S. President Harry S. Truman and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill in attendance.

The issues at hand for the Big Three and their staffs were the administration of a defeated Germany; the postwar borders of Poland; the occupation of Austria; the Soviet Union's "place" in Eastern Europe; war reparations; and the continuing war in the Pacific. Various disputes broke out almost immediately, especially over the Soviet Union's demand that the western border of Poland extend into German territory, granting Poland a zone of occupation. But the four zones of occupation that had been worked out at the Yalta Conference in February were finally agreed upon, to be created in both Germany and Austria and to be controlled by the United States, Great Britain, France, and the Soviet Union. A council composed of representatives of the four great powers was also established to determine the fate of Germany and Austria as nations. The council was to pursue the Five D's:

1. demilitarization,
2. denazification,
3. decentralization,
4. deindustrialization, and
5. democratization.

It was also agreed that unconditional surrender would be demanded of Japan, despite a warning by the Japanese emperor that such a demand would be resisted.

Unlike previous Allied conferences, Potsdam was marked by suspicion and defensiveness on the part of the participants. Now that the war was over in the West, each nation was more concerned with its own long-term interests than that of its partners. Winston Churchill in particular was greatly suspicious of Joseph Stalin's agenda for the Soviet Union's role in Eastern Europe. Stalin refused to negotiate the future of those Eastern European nations now occupied by Soviet forces. When Churchill was informed that an election had ousted his Conservative Party from power, and that Labor's Clement Attlee was now prime minister, he returned to London. With Churchill gone from the final negotiations of the conference, the "Iron Curtain" could be heard descending across Eastern Europe.

The Iron Curtain Boundary

Truman described his initial meeting with the intimidating Soviet leader as cordial. "Promptly a few minutes before twelve" the president wrote, "I looked up from the desk and there stood Stalin in the doorway. I got to my feet and advanced to meet him. He put out his hand and smiled. I did the same, we shook – and we sat down." After exchanging pleasantries, the two got down to discussing post-World War II policy in Europe. The U.S. was still engaged in a war in the Pacific against Japan, and Truman wanted to get a read on Stalin's plans for the territories that he now controlled in Europe.

Truman told Stalin that his diplomatic style was straightforward and to-the-point, an admission that Truman observed had visibly pleased Stalin. Truman hoped to get the Soviets to join in the U.S. war against Japan. In return, Stalin wanted to impose Soviet control over certain territories annexed at the beginning of the war by Japan and Germany. Truman hinted that although Stalin's agenda was "dynamite" or aggressive, the U.S. now had ammunition to counter the communist leader. Truman had refrained from informing the Soviet leader about the Manhattan Project, which had just successfully tested the world's first atom bomb, but knew that the new weapon strengthened his hand. Truman referred to this secret in his diary as "some dynamite which I am not exploding now."

After their meeting, Truman, Stalin and accompanying advisors "had lunch, talked socially, [and] put on a real show, drinking toasts to everyone" and posing for photographs.

Churchill, Truman and Stalin shake hands on 17 July 1945

Truman closed his entry for that day on a note of confidence. "I can deal with Stalin," he wrote. "He is honest, but smart as hell."

Less than a year later, on 5 March 1946, Winston Churchill would say:

From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic, an iron curtain has descended across the Continent. Behind that line lie all the capitals of the ancient states of Central and Eastern Europe. Warsaw, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Belgrade, Bucharest and Sofia, all these famous cities and the populations around them lie in what I must call the Soviet sphere, and all are subject in one form or another, not only to Soviet influence but to a very high and, in many cases, increasing measure of control from Moscow.

Cities on West and East sides of the Iron Curtain in 1946

16 July 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

16 July, 1945     0915

Nancy

My dearest Wilma –

Another new week begins and this date completes our 20th month since we left New York harbor – the time from which our overseas time is calculated. What a person can get used to, accept, take for granted – is amazing. One day follows the other just as inexorably as always, and it’s a good thing the human mind has the capacity of leaning upon the future – or it would really go stale. The future, in my case, sweetheart, has meant you, and I wonder if you know how much I’ve leaned upon you during all this time. I can tell you – a great deal. You’ve meant all the difference between letting myself become discouraged, disillusioned, and what-not – and keeping my spirits up, always hoping, hoping – and looking ahead. And I’m still doing it willingly – because I feel the goal ahead is well worth it. I know our love for each other is going to make up for all of this lonesomeness and aloneness – and our appreciation of each other is bound to be so much fuller, dear.

Yesterday it got up around 90°, without a breeze and without an ocean to cool me off. We lay around the house wearing practically no clothes, relaxing and drinking cold lemonade. It was too hot to play tennis and the swimming pool in town is open to civilians only on Sunday. Anyway it’s an indoor pool and not too enjoyable. Finally – in the evening we couldn’t stand hanging around any longer, so several of us went to the movies and saw ‘My Reputation’ – with B. Stanwyck. Have you seen it, dear? There wasn’t much to the picture – but somehow the main theme – the loss of a young woman’s husband and her desire or unconscious road to a new love – was provocative. The married officers in our group all had some remarks to make about it – because they couldn’t help but wonder how their wives would have reacted had they not lasted out the war.

Say – it was nice of the Field Director at Miles Standish to say he’ll be looking for me – even in jest. Boy – wouldn’t it be something if I finally docked in Boston! The Stars and Stripes prints the daily dockings of outfits at both N.Y. and Boston – and does it ever make my mouth water! And everyone else’s, too. In the picture, last night, there were several scenes of a hotel bar, dining, dancing etc. We literally drooled. We all agreed that while we were waiting for our actual trip back to our homes – we’d hit the first hotel bar and sip, sip and sip. Mine? Martinis – of course! The last one I had was at the Dorchester, in London – and before that – the Roosevelt in New York. But don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t get home pie-eyed – although I should be pretty gay. Will I be gay!! And why not – when I’ll be coming back to my one and only sweetheart. Hold me back, dear – I can’t stand it!

Oh hell – here I am back in Nancy again – but I can get back into the mood with no difficulty at all, at all. But I have to quit now, darling, so be well, be patient and I’ll be getting back. Love to the folks – and you have

All my love for always –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Trinity


The First Atomic Bomb Test

Trinity was the code name for the first explosion of a nuclear device. This test was conducted by the United States Army in the Jornada del Muerto desert about 35 miles (56 km) southeast of Socorro, New Mexico, at the new White Sands Proving Ground, which incorporated the Alamogordo Bombing and Gunnery Range. (The site is now the White Sands Missile Range.) Some feared that the Trinity test might "ignite" the earth's atmosphere, eliminating all life on the planet, though calculations had determined this unlikely. The date of the test, 16 July 1945, is considered to be the beginning of the Atomic Age.

Trinity was a test of an implosion-design plutonium device nicknamed "The Gadget". For the test, The Gadget was lifted to the top of a 100-foot (30 m) bomb tower. The height would give a better indication of how the weapon would behave when dropped from an airplane, as detonation in the air would maximize the amount of energy applied directly to the target (as it expanded in a spherical shape) and would generate less nuclear fallout.

The Gadget was hoisted to the top of this tower

The detonation was initially planned for 4:00 am but was postponed because of rain and lightning from early that morning. It was feared that the danger from radiation and fallout would be greatly increased by rain, and lightning had the scientists concerned about accidental detonation. At 4:45 am, a crucial weather report came in favorably, and, at 5:10 am, the twenty-minute countdown began. Most top-level scientists and military officers were observing from a base camp ten miles (16 km) southwest of the test tower. The final countdown was read by physicist Samuel K. Allison.

At 05:29:45 local time, the device exploded with an energy equivalent to around 20 kilotons of TNT (90 TJ). It left a crater of radioactive glass, in the desert 10 feet (3 m) deep and 1,100 feet (330 m) wide. At the time of detonation, the surrounding mountains were illuminated "brighter than daytime" for one to two seconds, and the heat was reported as "being as hot as an oven" at the base camp. The observed colors of the illumination ranged from purple to green and eventually to white. The roar of the shock wave took 40 seconds to reach the observers. The shock wave was felt over 100 miles (160 km) away, and the mushroom cloud reached 7.5 miles (12 km) in height. In the crater, the desert sand, which is largely made of silica, melted and became a mildly radioactive light green glass, which was named Trinitite.

Trinitite

After the initial euphoria of witnessing the explosion had passed, test director Kenneth Bainbridge commented to Los Alamos director J. Robert Oppenheimer, "Now we are all sons of bitches." Oppenheimer later recalled that, while witnessing the explosion, he thought of a verse from the Hindu holy book, the Bhagavad Gita:

If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky, that would be like the splendor of the mighty one...

Years later he would explain that another verse had also entered his head at that time, and in 1965 he was persuaded to quote again for a television broadcast:

We knew the world would not be the same. A few people laughed, a few people cried. Most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita; Vishnu is trying to persuade the Prince that he should do his duty and, to impress him, takes on his multi-armed form and says,

Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.

I suppose we all thought that, one way or another.

The Alamogordo Air Base issued a 50-word press release in response to what it described as "several inquiries" that had been received concerning an explosion. The release explained that "a remotely located ammunitions magazine containing a considerable amount of high explosives and pyrotechnics exploded," but that "there was no loss of life or limb to anyone." A newspaper article published the same day stated that "the blast was seen and felt throughout an area extending from El Paso to Silver City, Gallup, Socorro, and Albuquerque." The actual cause was not publicly acknowledged until after the August 6 bombing of Hiroshima.

The scientists and military men who were at the Trinity site when the detonation occurred were staggered by what they saw. T. F. Farrell, a brigadier general on the staff of Major Gen. Leslie Groves, the Manhattan Project's military commander, wrote:

The effects could well be called unprecedented, magnificent, beautiful, stupendous and terrifying. No man-made phenomenon of such tremendous power had ever occurred before. The lighting effects beggared description. The whole country was lighted by a searing light with the intensity many times that of the midday sun. It was golden, purple, violet, gray and blue. It lighted every peak, crevasse and ridge of the nearby mountain range with a clarity and beauty that cannot be described but must be seen to be imagined.

Here is the story of the atomic test at the Trinity site in New Mexico
as told by Ben Benjamin, who worked on the test as a young soldier.

15 July 1945

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

15 July, 1945

Nancy

Good Morning, Sweetheart –

It’s Sunday again and we’re just sitting around the room and relaxing. I’ve already been down to the Dispensary, had sick-call and returned here. I haven’t bothered to shave and I feel just like slopping around and doing nothing. How I wish you were here to help me pass the time!

The French had a real celebration last nite – and as far as I know – there were no riots. Six of us walked down town last night and found there was to be a concert. There’s a lovely park here, amphitheater and shell. The concert was swell and brought me all the way back to the Charles and the Esplanade Concerts. It was over at 2215 – and then at 2245 – there were fireworks. Mobs of people were out. We then walked home – a nice evening – as evenings go.

Hatch Shell on the Esplanade along the Charles River in Boston
Then and Now

When – oh when am I going to be able to spend an evening with you, darling? I miss you so damned much, dear. No mail for a couple of days now – maybe today. All for now, sweetheart. Love to the folks – and

All my everlasting love –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about The Complete Return of Street Lights

From the beginning of the war, precautions were taken to 'black-out' all lights. This was essential as it soon became clear that most bombing raids would take place at night. It was thought that a light even from one house would be used as a target, by an enemy plane on which to drop its bombs. Each night everyone had to make sure that not one chink of light escaped from the windows and doors of their homes. Heavy curtains or blinds could be effective but some windows were simply painted over or covered with cardboard or thick paper for the duration of the war.

No one seems to have consulted the air authorities about whether blackout was really necessary. Bomber pilots found that they could navigate best at night by looking out for water, which shows up clearly from the air by starlight as well as by moonlight; so that, on clear nights, they should have been able to orient themselves without too much trouble, whether anything on the ground was lit up or not. Next to lakes and rivers, railways also showed up clearly; so did large roads.

Nonetheless, going out of their home at night, people had to remember to switch off the light before opening an outside door. Once outside, there were no street lights and what few cars, buses and lorries there were, were fitted with special headlamps that gave out very little light. Motoring, with headlights blacked out to a single narrow slit a few centimeters long, became nightmarish, except for those with exceptional night vision. Lampposts and curb edges were painted white or with luminous paint, but this did not prevent a number of deaths caused by people walking into solid objects or under the wheels of the few vehicles still running.

Night work in open air, on farms or at railway sidings had to be done with no light and in factories, nearly all with sealed windows, workers had to operate with no ventilation and only artificial lighting. The black-out was partially lifted on 17 September 1944 (coastal regions were still affected) and replaced by a "dim-out", in reality this was only a less stringent form of black-out, but it was welcomed at the time.

There were laws against allowing light to escape from buildings and by the time the black-out ended, nearly one million people had been prosecuted for breaking the black-out regulations. Most people were only fined but one man was sentenced in February 1940 to one month of hard labor for allowing light to be seen from his house. Opinion polls conducted during the war nearly always had the black-out at the top of their "most disliked inconvenience" list.

The black-out occasionally came in handy as an excuse for "wrong-doers", when a father and his son were summoned to court by the Ministry of Labor and National Service in Northumberland for being persistently late for work without reasonable excuse, the father stated that he had knocked a woman down in the black-out on the way to work (in January) and he didn't want the same thing to happen again, so he started out later; the son's excuse was not given in the account. The story was not accepted and the magistrates found both men guilty and fined them £2 each.

THE BLACKOUT IN SCARBOROUGH

Aerial view of Scarborough, North Yorkshire, UK in 2007

On 18 September 1939 the first casualties of the blackout occurred in Scarborough when 6 year old Thomas Johnson of 30 Colescliffe Road was knocked down by a passing car and broke his leg. The other was 79 year old David Dawson of 6 Hibernia Street who was knocked down by a car and suffered cuts to his head.

The blackout for the winter months usually lasted from about 5:57 pm till 7:40 am the following day. The times were always advertised in the evening paper. To help pedestrians, all curb edges, trees and other obstacles were painted with white bands, which did help to a certain degree.

By 5 November 1943 the Chief Constable was saying that the Scarborough blackout was once regarded as the best in England, but it had by this date deteriorated quite a lot. It was on 17 September 1944 that the blackout restrictions were lifted. House holders could take down their blackout curtains and shutters and use their ordinary curtains.

Starlighting, which allowed lighting to the equivalent of moonlight in the streets, had been used since 1943, but if an alert sounded the blackout had to be observed. By December 1944 more street lights were switched on but only on main streets. From Sunday, 24 December 1944 all vehicles could use their full headlights and from 15 July 1945 normal street lighting was announced. It was a year or two before electricity and gas supplies were built up enough to do the full job.

And now for your listening pleasure, "Scarborough Fair"
performed by Simon and Garfunkel