24 July 1945

No letter today. Just this:

Here is a full edition of the 438 AAA AW Bn's newspaper, The Battalion Reporter, Volume 4, Number 2, dated 26 July 1945 but shown today because there was no letter today. The last two images are from these pages, but blown up for easier reading...

CLICK TO ENLARGE

23 July 1945

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

23 July, 1945      1110

Nancy

Dearest darling Wilma –

I’ve started this letter on 3 different occasions this morning. I ought to be able to finish it this time. It’s just one of those days in which everything and everyone is buzzing about.

Truth to tell, sweetheart, I’ve been missing you terribly – and the big moon of the last few nights hasn’t helped one bit. Gosh. I love you dear – and I’m getting tired of just telling you. I want to see you, tell you, love you – actually. Oh – it’ll come some day, darling, and when it does – boy, oh boy – we’ll be there!

A quiet, uneventful day yesterday. We played Bridge almost all afternoon. (I lost 115 francs – but we had some swell rubbers) – and after that I played tennis with a couple of Frenchmen – and lost again, but it was good experience. Today – the weekly routine.

All for now, dear – love to the folks – and

All my love is yours.

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about "Miscellany"

From TIME magazine's section called "Miscellany", published 23 July 1945, Volume XLVI, Number 4:

Where's the Fire? In Albuquerque, N.M., a cab driver bucked a one-way street, crashed a red light, illegally double-parked, collected his fare and a multiple traffic ticket from his passenger, Plainclothesman Bill Bellamy.

Hit & Miss. On Okinawa, a Jap sniper took careful aim, shot Private Kenneth W. Cunningham right through the heart—or where his heart should have been. Private Cunningham, whose heart is on the wrong side, survived.

Breathers. In Bennington, Vt., impatient Murder Defendant Harold Frotten broke out of jail, left a note explaining: "I'm tired of waiting for that damn trial so went out for a little fresh air." In San Francisco, Charles Jones and Clarence Jacobsen, recaptured after a jail break, explained that they were short of cigarettes.

The Way It Is. In St. Louis, Carl Roessler of the American Hotel Association made it official: the odds against getting a steak dinner in a Midwest hotel or restaurant, said he, are 400-to-1.

Fortune. In Pretoria, South Africa, a fortuneteller promised that "tomorrow" would be a G.I.'s lucky day. Next day the lucky soldier: missed connections back to camp, trudged eight miles, scalded his foot, dislocated an arm, cut his leg. But he got a promotion, received a gift of 500 cigarettes, won $40 in a lottery.

Woman's Place. In Ellensburg, Wash., the Daily Record ran a want ad, "Girl or woman for general housework," under Farm Machinery.

Infield Out. In Kansas City, Mo., Joe Infield got his head wedged in the bars of his bed. His wife, his mother-in-law, ten neighbors, two cops, a hacksaw, a chisel, and a hammer finally freed him.

Love in Wartime. In Havana, Ill., the Rev. James L. Dial took pity on a point-short couple he had just married, lent them three pounds of sugar for their wedding cake. In Rochester, N.Y., a ration board heard from an applicant, "I'm getting married, so I need a new pair of work shoes," considerately marked his request "Urgent.

Good Riddance. In Raleigh, N.C., the state board of education sold a piece of swamp land called Purgatory, hoped to dispose next of neighboring Hell.

White Magic. In New Guinea, a Quartermaster Corps corporal got no cooperation from natives until his false teeth accidentally popped out. Thenceforth, reported the Army, he "was looked upon with respect and awe, and his orders were obeyed with alacrity."

22 July 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

22 July, 1945      1030

Nancy

My dearest sweetheart –

It’s Sunday morning and three of us are sitting around the table in our living room writing letters. I’ve already been down to the Dispensary and seen several patients. It’s starting out to be another very hot day. Yesterday was a piperoo and although I had planned to play tennis, I cancelled my plans and just sat around. Boy – I’d have given a lot to have been able to take a dip in the ocean somewhere.

In the evening I decided to stay in and read. I started Somerset Maugham’s “Razor’s Edge” and it’s shaping up as an excellent story. Have you read it, dear? Well I read about 100 pages and then a couple of the fellows dropped in and suggested a walk down town. So we did and visited at the Red Cross. This club by the way is one of the finest I’ve seen since leaving the States and I’ve seen a good many of them. It occupies a lovely building in Place Stanislaus which is reputedly one of the loveliest squares in all Europe. The building was the site of the Art Museum in town and is really comfortable. They have a string ensemble which plays p.m.’s and evenings. You can get cokes with ice or coffee and donuts.

Stanislaus Square, Nancy, France - July 1945
and City Hall today (below)

This afternoon I may play tennis and there’s supposed to be a good movie in town tonight and we may go. There’s been no mail for a couple of days now – but when it comes – it’s quite recent. We’re being told daily not to write Airmail for a while because it’s going by ship and will not be flown. I don’t know how it’s affecting my mail to you, dear, but I’ll make sure you hear from me fairly recently by writing a few V-mails. They definitely are continuing to be flown.

I was sorry to read about Granny B. and hope she continues to improve. Hypertension is such a darned thing to control. After weeks of rest and getting the pressure down – one bit of aggravation or excitement is enough to make it go sky high. I guess a whole lot of people are waiting for our wedding, darling, and there’s nothing I’d like more than to be able to accommodate them. Starting with Barbara and running thru to you Grandmothers – I guess we run the whole gamut of ages, friends and relatives.

And I’m so glad to read that my sister Ruth is doing better. Frankly I was pretty worried. I’m still not sure what she had – but anything around that part of the anatomy is serious, malignant or benign. I haven’t received Lawrence’s new APO yet – and that’s another thing I’m sweating out. I’d rather see him go to Hawaii than to the Philippines – because the latter spot is an advanced replacement and staging area. Well – I can only hope.

Now, darling, I’m becoming confused by the interruptions and noise that’s passing into this room. The boys are drifting back from down town – waiting for lunch. I sure wish you could join me, darling. I’ll stop now for today, dear. Remember – I love you, dearly, sweetheart – and I always will. Love to the folks.

All my sincerest love,

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Scientists Needed

Andrew Russell (Drew) Pearson (1897-1969) was one of the most successful newspaper and radio journalists of his day. His syndicated Washington Merry-Go-Round column was published between 1932 and 1969. American University Library Special Collections Unit holds the typescript copies for the column that the syndicate sent to Pearson's office at the same time the typescripts were distributed to newspapers around the country.

The following is part of a transcript that was released on 22 July 1945 by The Bell Syndicate, Inc.

DREW PEARSON
ON
THE WASHINGTON MERRY-GO-ROUND

SPECIAL SCIENTISTS NEEDED FOR WAR;
NAZIS HAD MORE SECRET WEAPONS READY

Washington – What may prove to be one of the most important pieces of legislation in this Congress was quietly introduced in the Senate this week by progressive Warren Magnuson, Democrat, of Washington State. It was a bill to set up a sort of scientist ROTC, or Reserve Corps for Scientists. They would be trained for civilian life, but could be called back to serve their country in time of war. Behind Magnuson's proposal is the tremendous part science played in this war and the fact that scientifically, we were woefully unprepared. Had it not been for the hurriedly organized group of patriotic scientists gathered together under Dr. Vannevar Bush, the country would have been much worse off than it is.

What most people don't realize is that if the war had not ended when it did, German science was ready to give us some severe if not disastrous set-backs. New Nazi weapons might have been able to blow England out of the water. While the Nazi buzz-bomb and the V-2 rocket did ample damage, the Germans had even more dreadful weapons in the works. Allied troops discovered, half concealed underground, a series of giant artillery guns capable of firing over 100 miles.

In the last war, Big Bertha which the Germans fired on Paris did not do much damage because it became overheated and had to be re-bored. But the new German long-range guns fired smaller projectiles, did not heat up so fast, and were arranged in rows, so that taken together they could dump several hundred tons an hour on London – and keep it up day and night. These big guns were ready to go into action when the Allies found them.

ROCKETS TO MOON

In addition, the Nazis had been making more and more progress with their long-range rockets, and there was no doubt that they planned to bomb Boston and New York, given more time. Military observers believe that it was partly the hope that these weapons would be developed in time to disrupt the U.S.A. that kept the Nazis fighting so long.

British experts who have examined the new German weapons more carefully than Americans say that without any doubt the time is not far off when rockets can reach the moon; when they can be built capable of carrying a man and provisions inside. Some military men have already begun studying rocket bases hidden in Alaska, Siberia and Canada which could fire at the great metropolitan cities of New York, London, Berlin, and Moscow.

Another German weapon which the Allies found almost completed inside Germany was a high-speed torpedo boat capable of making around 150 miles an hour. The Nazis planned to man them with one suicide helmsman, load them with explosives, and ram them against battleships. The British say they would have been more deadly than the Jap suicide planes.

All of this convinces scientists that talk of universal conscription and big ground armies is just as out of date as old-fashioned cavalry. The war of tomorrow – if the United Nations is not able to stop it – will be a war of science.

NAVY SHUNNED SCIENCE

Unfortunately, college men have been set back in scientific studies during the last three years, while in the Army. But Senator Magnuson proposed that the Federal Government now establish educational funds to subsidize special studies for men who later would form a scientific reserve corps in case of war.

Note - as a member then of the House Naval Affairs Committee, Magnuson recalls that in 1938 the House appropriated $15,000,000 for the Navy to use for scientific research, including anti-submarine devices. The bill actually passed the House, but when it reached the Senate, the admirals testified that this scientific research was unnecessary. They didn't like the fact that it was to be civilian scientists rather than Annapolis men. As a result, the $15,000,000 was killed by the Senate and when we first entered the war, U.S. shipping was crucified by submarines.

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.