Harsh winds of war held loved ones far apart
Who shared with pen the pain of aching heart.
Who shared with pen the pain of aching heart.
What follows is a selection of letters, or parts thereof, written by the sons of Jules and Juliette Borel, of Kansas City, Missouri, during World War II.
My purpose is to share with our family a representative portion of the experiences of four brothers, mainly while overseas, in events which took place forty and more years ago and written about then.
This was possible because my parents and my wife kept our letters. I have thus had access to over 700 such letters, from which 41 have been used here. (Additionally, there remain 300 letters written by my wife and my parents. But that is another project, for another day.)
It will be clear to the reader that selections stress the year leading to VE and VJ days, as well as matters hopefully of particular interest to our families.
Material other than the letters themselves is from published sources or from the official files of the Naval Historical Center and The Center for Military History, both in Washington, D.C.
PAB
Great Falls, Virginia
April 9, 1985
* * * * *
NOTE: Unless otherwise indicated, letters from John, Pete and Mark were to our parents and sister, Ruth; letters from Paul were to his wife, Miriam. Brackets [ ] are used to insert detail not in original text owing to censorship restrictions.
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JOHN – Fort Sill, Oklahoma, 11 DEC 1941
. . . We're all cheerful here. You couldn't tell there's a war on, most of the time.
Today it is raining and it is cold, but we drilled with our 75mm gun. There was mud and more mud. We drill if it's sunshine, or cold and raining. Nothing stops the Army.
. . . . .
It would be wonderful to come home for Christmas. But I don't know yet. No matter what happens to me I will always remember how happy you good folks made me. How you cared for me. I can never repay you. I know everything will come out all right, for I have so much to come back to: a lovely home, you good people, a wonderful girl, a good job, a swell city and everything that goes with it. . . .
_ _ _ _ _
Pete's sketch of his tent. (Click to enlarge.)
PETE – Guadalcanal, Solomon Islands, 16 FEB 1943
To give you a better picture of our living quarters, I have sketched a plan of our tent. There are about 36 such tents in our camp, but this is like a drop in the ocean compared with what is on this island. The arrangement of our tent is our own and we made every piece of furniture in it. It's a cozy little home and we keep it very tidy. The four of us take turns in cleaning it up every day.
Here is a typical day of my existence here at this time: I get up at 6 o'clock. Fill my bucket with rain water from one of the tubes at the side of the tent, wash my face and brush my teeth. I don't comb my hair because I haven't enough to comb yet. When our ship crossed the equator line we were put through a most formidable initiation, which I will have to tell you about sometime, and among a hundred other tortures our hair was cut to the scalp. Then I dress and read my chapter in the Bible as well as a page in the daily devotional message book, which Brig. & Mrs. Hill gave me for Christmas while I was still in Washington. By that time the truck's horn blows and everybody runs with their mess gear (eating utensils) and gets on the trucks which drive off to the mess hall about two miles away. The roads are very rough and bumpy and by the time we arrive we have had our morning's exercise in being bounced around. Pancakes, bacon, oatmeal, coffee and bread for breakfast. After breakfast we pile back in the trucks and return to camp. We barely have time to make up our bunks and then we fall in at quarters where they take roll call and assign us to our duties for the day. I have been on the fence working party for the past few days. They are putting up a fence to separate the Navy property from the Army's. It will be a long time before we get our shop set up because there's so much construction work that has to be done first and everyone must help. At 11 o'clock we knock off (stop work) clean up a bit and drive off to the mess hall again. After standing in a long line for at least a half hour we finally get to the kettles where they dish out the food. Bread, steak, peas, potatoes, rice pudding, butter and cold lemonade for dinner. After leaving the mess hall we get into another line which leads to several large kettles filled with boiling hot water having a wooden fire under them. We dip our utensils in these kettles to clean them. We return to the camp and at 1 o'clock we resume work. At four we quit work again, clean up hurriedly, get back on the trucks drive to the mess hall, have supper consisting of: bread, hot tea, some kind of meat, vegetable, and jam. Upon our return from supper everybody takes a shower. At this time this place looks like a nudist colony as everybody runs around in their birthday clothes. The showers as well as the toilets are right out in the open. The water used is cold river water. After that we do our laundry in our buckets and then the evening is ours. Sometimes we go swimming in the ocean or in a river near here.
I didn't mean to write so much about our day's routine as I wanted to write more concerning things you wrote about in your letter of Jan. 8th, but I'll write again rea! soon. Bill & George are playing checkers now and Gray is looking at some pictures of his wife; he seems kind'a homesick.
Love, Pierre Borel, AMM2/c
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PETE – Guadalcanal, 13 DEC 1943
My dear Pappa:
Today it is your birthday and, inasmuch as I have a free day, I thought that a little letter in French would please you, despite its somewhat tardy arrival. I do not know prompted me to write to you in French unless it is the desire to give you some manner of gift, and, since there is nothing here to send you, I thought at least I would make a special effort and write to you in French. After all it is of you that I had the opportunity to learn the language and I am grateful to you for that.
This was not, however, all that I learned during my sojourn in Switzerland. I learned also to know and to love the country and the friends which you and mama had in your youth. Despite the lapse of several years since my school days in La Chaux-de-Fonds, there is nothing in my life that is more dear and alive than those days. When I have time to reminisce a bit, as I do this morning, so many happy memories of Switzerland become altogether vivid to me.
Here are a few of the recollections which come to mind. Our arrival at Paris. The hike we took in the Alps, Rene, Paul and I, during the first weeks we were in Switzerland. It was during this trip that we visited Tell's Chapel on the shore of Lake Leman, or the lake of the Four Cantons, I no longer remember. I recall also the meeting with the old-time members of the Christian Union, where Paul and I had accompanied you, and where you gave such a splendid talk. And our little trip to the top the small peak near Zurich, called "Zurichberg," or something like that, where you told us of having kissed mother for the first time. And, too, the lovely days in the home of dear Madame Hoch, and at the concerts in the park where we went with Monsieur Emil [Hoch], who always spoiled us with ice cream and candy.
I remember also our trip to Tramelan, where we met Monsieur Beguelin and Mademoiselle Anne-Marie, who was sick in bed. After that, our arrival at La Chaux-de-Fonds at the home of Monsieur Chatelain, where, from the first day, I risked killing myself by running into a truck my bicycle. Then came the trip to Bern with Monsieur Andre Buhler where we visited the famous "bear pit." It there in Bern, that I parted company with you to return to La Chaux-de-Fonds with Monsieur Buhler to begin my studies at the Technicum.
One of the loveliest trips of my life took place when, with my bicycle, I went to see Jean [John] at Frutigan, and then to see Paul at Zurich. It was so beautiful to go along the valleys of high Alps through the little village of Tourne. While going through it, I thought of Madame Horbe, the lady who had taken care of John when he was little. At Frutigan, I was so glad to see John in a beautiful chalet on the side of the mountain. I took a very nice room with bath in the finest hotel in the village and I remember so well the little brook that fell just below my window. How I did enjoy the round loaves, the apricot jam, and above all, the splendid milk chocolate. That had cost you 80 Swiss francs for my two or three days at this hotel, but it was well worth it.
Following Frutigan, I had taken the road to Zurich through many beautiful mountains, going through the lovely village of Interlaken, from where I think I sent you a little chalet-music box. In Zurich I spent, some great days with Paul in the home of the Huelins. We attended services at the French church and were strangely moved, for we knew this church from infancy because of the painting by Monsieur Cavin, which hung in the bedroom of our old home. Together we also visited friends Curchod, Cavin, Hoch, Frischknecht, and even old Madame Guisollan.
I also remember very well my visits in Geneva with Uncle Paul and Aunt Marie. And of the little village of Celigny with Grandmother Ravinse. The first time I saw her, it seemed I had known her since childhood, for she was exactly as Momma had painted her in our imagination.
Lastly, there are the great hikes in the mountains which I made with the school as well as with Andre and other friends. And the days of work at school, the little Baptist church, my trips to Neuchatel, etc., etc. All these seem to flood my memory this morning, and all are rich memories for which I have you to thank.
It seems strange that all this should come to me so vividly, particularly in view of circumstances so different from those in which I now find myself. Nevertheless, these experiences of the past have never been closer to my thoughts. During the many, long months here, where there is nothing, we have no life, we exist only. Precisely in such empty moments, it is that in us takes shape a great desire to recapture self, in a sense, after the war, and to live the most happy life possible. My idea of a happy life is to live simply, quietly and honestly, with a good person. I do not know yet who that will be, but I shall not be too slow finding her after the war, if she exists.
Well, Papa, I've run on a long time, and I hope that I have not tired you. I have a feeling you may derive some pleasure from this letter, for it cannot but help make you think of the wonderful years you too have spent in Switzerland during your childhood and later with Momma and your kiddies. We were, at least in those days, good and cute, weren't we?
Adieu, dear Papa, give Momma my love, as well as to little Ruth. I know that you are always very busy and I do not expect any long letters from you – simply occasionally add a few words at the end of mother's letters. Merry Christmas to you all.
Your son who loves you, Pierre.
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PETE – [Undated & no origin given, probably Guadalcanal, late 1943]
If I were a writer and censorship did not exist, I could write a very exciting story on what I have experienced within the last few days and nights, but as things are I will be able to tell you but very little.
We were just giving the finishing touches to our new instrument shop, rejoicing in the fact that we would soon be able to settle down to our instrument work, when our chief steps in and says: "Borel & Underwood pack your tools, clothes and bedding, we're leaving in a few hours." It was quite a surprise to us and though our destination was not one to be envied, I was glad to go, as I'm always ready for something new and exciting no matter what the danger may be.
After having packed and gotten a bit of rest, we took off – can't say how many planes or men there were. After flying for sometime we ran right into a storm – then things began to happen. Our plane began jumping around like a jumping bean and on the inside we were being juggled around something fierce. Once the plane dropped 150 feet in an air pocket – at the time I was laying down on some of the luggage and after the drop I could hardly find my way out. Practically everyone got cuts and bruises of some kind, mostly in the head. We thought sure the plane was being torn apart and we all held on for dear life. Several of the guys, including a doctor lieutenant who was with us, began putting on life jackets and parachutes. The doctor, who incidentally has done a considerable amount of flying, was so nervous that he was struggling around frantically trying to put his chute and life jacket on. When he finally got everything on he had put the life jacket over the parachute belt which was wrong, so he had another struggle taking everything back off and putting it on again. Never before have I seen anyone sweat so much in cold weather as he did. As for me, I didn't have the least idea on how to put on a parachute or jacket so I didn't even try putting them on – I just held on tight. Truthfully I thought, sure we were going to crash – it was a very strange feeling – I was already wondering how long it would be until you would be notified. Some of the fellows who have over 700 hours in the air admitted they had never been so scared. The pilot himself said it was the worst he had ever hit. You can imagine our relief when we were past that rough area – no one was able to sleep anymore after that. After so long we finally reached destination, tired, worn out and hungry, but alive!
Talk about a rugged place! The whole camp is right in the midst of the jungle. The first thing we saw as we moved out things into a big open tent, was an immense centipede at least 7 inches long – it's like a great big thousand legged bug only its legs are like claws. We killed it of course, but no telling how many of its relatives are still around. Then as Woody and I were out looking for some bamboo poles to fix our tent with, I was fixing to pull a stick out of some brush when Woody suddenly shouts: "watch out"; a big snake was rapidly making its way towards my back. We got out of there in a hurry I assure you.
Evening finally came. There are no lights in the tents here, so after having eaten and taken a bucket bath, we fixed to go to bed, dead tired. The mosquitoes were stinging us by the millions until we got under out nets – then we could hear them humming around angrily on the outside just waiting for us to come out and they didn't have to wait long either! What happened that & following night is by far the most exciting experience I have been through in my life! I wish so much I could tell you about it, but it's no use trying. It's something I'll never forget as long as I live – I'll tell you all about it when I get back home in the U.S.A.
It's terrifically hot and uncomfortable here. If you wear shorts and no shirt you get eaten up by mosquitoes and if you wear long pants and a shirt you get wringing wet with sweat – I've tried both ways and I've concluded that it's better to wear clothes though it is terribly uncomfortable – I'd hate to catch malaria like so many do.
I'm writing you this letter on my knee sitting on a board in the woods – our tents have no netting and it's cooler out here. Since writing out here is quite an uncomfortable task, I won't be doing much of it and I'll appreciate it if you will pass this letter on to Paul. I'll be writing you again soon. Lots of love from your sailor boy, Pierre Borel AMM2/c
P.S. We are not going to stay on this island for good – We will be returning to our own place again after so long – I have no idea how long it will be.
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PETE – Guadalcanal – 13 APR 1944
It's becoming a common joke among us to call our outfit the Patsu commandos. We're not the least bit like what people think the navy is like – we're really sort of a combination of the army, the navy, the C.B.'s, the marines and the air corps all put together, and that's the reason this is such an interesting outfit to belong to. We probably go through a lot more hardships than stationary units go through, but we also profit from a great many thrilling experiences which more than compensates for the hardships. You read in your newspapers of how the Americans are pursuing the enemy – that is certainly literally true about our outfit.
In spite of what seems should be the opposite, we are getting much better food now. We were all so glad to get away from that army cooking – a little bit longer and we would all have been sick, but we are eating navy chow now and it sure makes us feel better.
Four letters were waiting for me: your letter of Mar. 15th, one from Clayton Moran, one from Ruth Hill and the Alumni Bulletin from Drake University. Boy it sure was great getting mail again!
I'm enclosing four pictures. Those were all taken at the same place #65 and #68 were, which I sent you in my previous letter.
I was glad to hear that Mark has been sent to Harvard to study [radar]. We have a [radar] department in our outfit with an officer in charge. On one of our instruments we work in conjunction with this [radar] officer. I suppose Mark will occupy a similar job when he finishes with his studies. Seven months is a long time – it will keep him out of danger just that much longer. I haven't written [to] or received a letter from Paul yet. Neither have I heard from John for sometime. Once things get organized a bit, I'll have more time to write than I've had these past few weeks and I'll be writing to those brothers of mine.
You all mean a lot to me and I love each of you with all my heart.
Pete Borel, AMM1/c
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PAUL – Aboard USS THOMAS JOHNSON in English Channel off Cherbourg – 29 JUN 1944
My dearest sweetheart:
Do you remember when first we met? You were an extremely attractive girl; even as you now are. We were playing games at your house and aside from paying more attention to you than to the games I have no doubt that I probably tried to show off enough to attract your attention.
Then came the following weeks when we went places together. You shared your time with others which included my brothers and I couldn't help being a bit jealous even though there was no reason in the world why you shouldn’t have gone out with others and even preferred their company. Even then I must have begun falling in love with you though I probably didn't realize it and wouldn't have admitted it if I had because I was unsettled as to what to do with my life.
Remember when I went to school? You were wonderful in the way you wrote even then. Being able to see you during the first summer, at Christmas time, and during the Easter period made the time seem much shorter. Psychologically I was still confused. You were not, however. Just true. True to yourself.
It seems it was only after I started working in a job which held some definite future and got into a routine of daily living where the mind is less vocal that I could listen to my heart. Do you remember when you came to Bartlesville? We had a quiet trip back to Kansas City. During the course of the evening in our small talk I suggested that you come back to B'ville with me. You said, yes, you could come as my secretary. I said, no, as my wife. It seemed inconsequential at the time, but coupled with the fact that I told you that night that I loved you, the die was cast. I knew then that I would marry you if you would have me. Everytime that I thought of the possibility of your saying no, I further realized what a dark future it would be without you.
Remember the day we met in Chicago? On July 3rd we drove out to Chicago U. Even then the rings in my pocket were weighing on my patience. I wanted to pull one out and put it on your finger and hold you in my arms. Yes, I had quite an evening planned. We would have supper at some nice place where they had a roof garden. That would be the setting: we would both look out over the Lake glistening under the light of the moon. Then something came up and Sallie wanted to go to the Camp to see Howie and it seemed selfish not to go on out. That night we took a little spin around in the car. And not long after you were wearing my ring. I can see you now with a half a dozen rings on at one time trying to decide which you liked best. Then we came to the little tavern and we danced to "Wishing.” How appropriate that song was – and is. Its sentiment can be true for us today as it was then. Yes, we danced – you holding onto the silver spoons so no one would take your first engagement gift. The next day you saw me off at the airport.
Remember the wedding? Was there ever a lovelier bride in such a nice church? And after what seemed innumerable delays we were at last off on our honeymoon. We got all of a couple of miles that night! The next morning: breakfast at the Plaza – on to Oklahoma City (via a slight detour). Then Austin, Monterey, Valles, Mexico City. Songs together, laughs, riddles – but all happiness (and our pockets empty). Those were wonderful weeks. They all have been. You getting up in the early morning so we could have breakfast together; then we waited for Maki on the divan. Soon we found out it was to be Borger. How disappointed I was our apartment wasn't ready upon your arrival. But you were swell. Then we bought furniture and got our "own little home." And it wasn't long until we found out someone would be joining us. Then Washington for me and some realization of what it meant to be away from you. What a reunion in Chicago, then St. Louis. Everything was all right again.
Remember the day Nancy arrived? You were brave; you spent more time reassuring me than I did trying to soothe you. If I had needed anything to make me realize how much I loved you it would have happened that night. You came back spent and weak from your terrific ordeal. But you had given the world a new life which was both you and me. How happy we were to watch our beautiful child grow and develop. Yes, and St. Louis was a place where we spent many quiet wonderful days.
Then war came. Our brothers – for they want to be yours too – and our friends began to play an increasingly active part in a world struggle. I began to get restless with a "desk" job which had promise of lasting for the duration. Civil Affairs looked like a chance to play a more active part. Yet it had possibilities of being a task which was in itself constructive. A chance too of working in an avenue by which peoples could better know each other. You know that I dislike trite phrases dealing with ideals which too often are abstract. The whole struggle can be summed up by saying that we are fighting so we may continue to live as we have – you and I – and others who also know happiness.
Do you remember Columbia? Strangely, or perhaps not, some of the most vivid pictures of that period deal with things apart from the school. The vesper services with you at Riverside. Do you remember Chaplain Glen's definition of heaven. A truly human and beautiful one: Heaven is a place where we can continue doing the worthwhile things we have done in life. This brings up the question: what have I done in life that would be worthwhile continuing in the after-life? The only worthwhile thing in my life has been and is you – and our little family. If we can love each other and together love God we can live a worthwhile life. In doing this we will love our neighbors and try to make life more pleasant for those less fortunate than ourselves.
Do you remember when Elaine was born? Once again you went through a terrific ordeal. Afterwards in a tired voice you could say with controlled pride: "another little girl."
Then came the time when it was necessary for us to be separated for a while. It seemed very unreal, very far away. And when it happened it hurt a lot more than seemed possible. Yes, the immediacy of being separated seemed unreal. We had dinner together at "Tony's." Between bites I would look at you and try to see you "impersonally." Then as now it seems incredible that you, Miriam, are my wife. Because when I look at you now I see much more than your physical self. I see kindness, unselfishness, love in your eyes and radiated by your very being. I see a person who during the daytime can be content with doing everyday, ordinary household chores and during the nightime transport us both to another world – a world in which life's fulfillment is achieved by two people in love with each other. It would be difficult to overestimate your contribution to others as a teacher. A teacher in how to live.
Yes, you remember. And I remember. That is why we can both be happy even though apart. That is why we can never doubt that soon we will be together again. To resume a new life. That is why we needn't have fear, for "wishing will make it so."
You must know my heart. I have tried to tell you in words that I love you. Words are always so inadequate to express what one exchange of glances can so much better say. What can describe the casual squeeze of the hand held by lovers?
Inadequate as it seems I want you to know these things. Yes, I remember! And for all these things, thank you, dear.
Your loving husband, Paul
My purpose is to share with our family a representative portion of the experiences of four brothers, mainly while overseas, in events which took place forty and more years ago and written about then.
This was possible because my parents and my wife kept our letters. I have thus had access to over 700 such letters, from which 41 have been used here. (Additionally, there remain 300 letters written by my wife and my parents. But that is another project, for another day.)
It will be clear to the reader that selections stress the year leading to VE and VJ days, as well as matters hopefully of particular interest to our families.
Material other than the letters themselves is from published sources or from the official files of the Naval Historical Center and The Center for Military History, both in Washington, D.C.
PAB
Great Falls, Virginia
April 9, 1985
* * * * *
NOTE: Unless otherwise indicated, letters from John, Pete and Mark were to our parents and sister, Ruth; letters from Paul were to his wife, Miriam. Brackets [ ] are used to insert detail not in original text owing to censorship restrictions.
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JOHN – Fort Sill, Oklahoma, 11 DEC 1941
. . . We're all cheerful here. You couldn't tell there's a war on, most of the time.
Today it is raining and it is cold, but we drilled with our 75mm gun. There was mud and more mud. We drill if it's sunshine, or cold and raining. Nothing stops the Army.
. . . . .
It would be wonderful to come home for Christmas. But I don't know yet. No matter what happens to me I will always remember how happy you good folks made me. How you cared for me. I can never repay you. I know everything will come out all right, for I have so much to come back to: a lovely home, you good people, a wonderful girl, a good job, a swell city and everything that goes with it. . . .
_ _ _ _ _
Pete's sketch of his tent. (Click to enlarge.)
PETE – Guadalcanal, Solomon Islands, 16 FEB 1943
To give you a better picture of our living quarters, I have sketched a plan of our tent. There are about 36 such tents in our camp, but this is like a drop in the ocean compared with what is on this island. The arrangement of our tent is our own and we made every piece of furniture in it. It's a cozy little home and we keep it very tidy. The four of us take turns in cleaning it up every day.
Here is a typical day of my existence here at this time: I get up at 6 o'clock. Fill my bucket with rain water from one of the tubes at the side of the tent, wash my face and brush my teeth. I don't comb my hair because I haven't enough to comb yet. When our ship crossed the equator line we were put through a most formidable initiation, which I will have to tell you about sometime, and among a hundred other tortures our hair was cut to the scalp. Then I dress and read my chapter in the Bible as well as a page in the daily devotional message book, which Brig. & Mrs. Hill gave me for Christmas while I was still in Washington. By that time the truck's horn blows and everybody runs with their mess gear (eating utensils) and gets on the trucks which drive off to the mess hall about two miles away. The roads are very rough and bumpy and by the time we arrive we have had our morning's exercise in being bounced around. Pancakes, bacon, oatmeal, coffee and bread for breakfast. After breakfast we pile back in the trucks and return to camp. We barely have time to make up our bunks and then we fall in at quarters where they take roll call and assign us to our duties for the day. I have been on the fence working party for the past few days. They are putting up a fence to separate the Navy property from the Army's. It will be a long time before we get our shop set up because there's so much construction work that has to be done first and everyone must help. At 11 o'clock we knock off (stop work) clean up a bit and drive off to the mess hall again. After standing in a long line for at least a half hour we finally get to the kettles where they dish out the food. Bread, steak, peas, potatoes, rice pudding, butter and cold lemonade for dinner. After leaving the mess hall we get into another line which leads to several large kettles filled with boiling hot water having a wooden fire under them. We dip our utensils in these kettles to clean them. We return to the camp and at 1 o'clock we resume work. At four we quit work again, clean up hurriedly, get back on the trucks drive to the mess hall, have supper consisting of: bread, hot tea, some kind of meat, vegetable, and jam. Upon our return from supper everybody takes a shower. At this time this place looks like a nudist colony as everybody runs around in their birthday clothes. The showers as well as the toilets are right out in the open. The water used is cold river water. After that we do our laundry in our buckets and then the evening is ours. Sometimes we go swimming in the ocean or in a river near here.
I didn't mean to write so much about our day's routine as I wanted to write more concerning things you wrote about in your letter of Jan. 8th, but I'll write again rea! soon. Bill & George are playing checkers now and Gray is looking at some pictures of his wife; he seems kind'a homesick.
Love, Pierre Borel, AMM2/c
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PETE – Guadalcanal, 13 DEC 1943
My dear Pappa:
Today it is your birthday and, inasmuch as I have a free day, I thought that a little letter in French would please you, despite its somewhat tardy arrival. I do not know prompted me to write to you in French unless it is the desire to give you some manner of gift, and, since there is nothing here to send you, I thought at least I would make a special effort and write to you in French. After all it is of you that I had the opportunity to learn the language and I am grateful to you for that.
This was not, however, all that I learned during my sojourn in Switzerland. I learned also to know and to love the country and the friends which you and mama had in your youth. Despite the lapse of several years since my school days in La Chaux-de-Fonds, there is nothing in my life that is more dear and alive than those days. When I have time to reminisce a bit, as I do this morning, so many happy memories of Switzerland become altogether vivid to me.
Here are a few of the recollections which come to mind. Our arrival at Paris. The hike we took in the Alps, Rene, Paul and I, during the first weeks we were in Switzerland. It was during this trip that we visited Tell's Chapel on the shore of Lake Leman, or the lake of the Four Cantons, I no longer remember. I recall also the meeting with the old-time members of the Christian Union, where Paul and I had accompanied you, and where you gave such a splendid talk. And our little trip to the top the small peak near Zurich, called "Zurichberg," or something like that, where you told us of having kissed mother for the first time. And, too, the lovely days in the home of dear Madame Hoch, and at the concerts in the park where we went with Monsieur Emil [Hoch], who always spoiled us with ice cream and candy.
I remember also our trip to Tramelan, where we met Monsieur Beguelin and Mademoiselle Anne-Marie, who was sick in bed. After that, our arrival at La Chaux-de-Fonds at the home of Monsieur Chatelain, where, from the first day, I risked killing myself by running into a truck my bicycle. Then came the trip to Bern with Monsieur Andre Buhler where we visited the famous "bear pit." It there in Bern, that I parted company with you to return to La Chaux-de-Fonds with Monsieur Buhler to begin my studies at the Technicum.
One of the loveliest trips of my life took place when, with my bicycle, I went to see Jean [John] at Frutigan, and then to see Paul at Zurich. It was so beautiful to go along the valleys of high Alps through the little village of Tourne. While going through it, I thought of Madame Horbe, the lady who had taken care of John when he was little. At Frutigan, I was so glad to see John in a beautiful chalet on the side of the mountain. I took a very nice room with bath in the finest hotel in the village and I remember so well the little brook that fell just below my window. How I did enjoy the round loaves, the apricot jam, and above all, the splendid milk chocolate. That had cost you 80 Swiss francs for my two or three days at this hotel, but it was well worth it.
Following Frutigan, I had taken the road to Zurich through many beautiful mountains, going through the lovely village of Interlaken, from where I think I sent you a little chalet-music box. In Zurich I spent, some great days with Paul in the home of the Huelins. We attended services at the French church and were strangely moved, for we knew this church from infancy because of the painting by Monsieur Cavin, which hung in the bedroom of our old home. Together we also visited friends Curchod, Cavin, Hoch, Frischknecht, and even old Madame Guisollan.
I also remember very well my visits in Geneva with Uncle Paul and Aunt Marie. And of the little village of Celigny with Grandmother Ravinse. The first time I saw her, it seemed I had known her since childhood, for she was exactly as Momma had painted her in our imagination.
Lastly, there are the great hikes in the mountains which I made with the school as well as with Andre and other friends. And the days of work at school, the little Baptist church, my trips to Neuchatel, etc., etc. All these seem to flood my memory this morning, and all are rich memories for which I have you to thank.
It seems strange that all this should come to me so vividly, particularly in view of circumstances so different from those in which I now find myself. Nevertheless, these experiences of the past have never been closer to my thoughts. During the many, long months here, where there is nothing, we have no life, we exist only. Precisely in such empty moments, it is that in us takes shape a great desire to recapture self, in a sense, after the war, and to live the most happy life possible. My idea of a happy life is to live simply, quietly and honestly, with a good person. I do not know yet who that will be, but I shall not be too slow finding her after the war, if she exists.
Well, Papa, I've run on a long time, and I hope that I have not tired you. I have a feeling you may derive some pleasure from this letter, for it cannot but help make you think of the wonderful years you too have spent in Switzerland during your childhood and later with Momma and your kiddies. We were, at least in those days, good and cute, weren't we?
Adieu, dear Papa, give Momma my love, as well as to little Ruth. I know that you are always very busy and I do not expect any long letters from you – simply occasionally add a few words at the end of mother's letters. Merry Christmas to you all.
Your son who loves you, Pierre.
_ _ _ _ _
PETE – [Undated & no origin given, probably Guadalcanal, late 1943]
If I were a writer and censorship did not exist, I could write a very exciting story on what I have experienced within the last few days and nights, but as things are I will be able to tell you but very little.
We were just giving the finishing touches to our new instrument shop, rejoicing in the fact that we would soon be able to settle down to our instrument work, when our chief steps in and says: "Borel & Underwood pack your tools, clothes and bedding, we're leaving in a few hours." It was quite a surprise to us and though our destination was not one to be envied, I was glad to go, as I'm always ready for something new and exciting no matter what the danger may be.
After having packed and gotten a bit of rest, we took off – can't say how many planes or men there were. After flying for sometime we ran right into a storm – then things began to happen. Our plane began jumping around like a jumping bean and on the inside we were being juggled around something fierce. Once the plane dropped 150 feet in an air pocket – at the time I was laying down on some of the luggage and after the drop I could hardly find my way out. Practically everyone got cuts and bruises of some kind, mostly in the head. We thought sure the plane was being torn apart and we all held on for dear life. Several of the guys, including a doctor lieutenant who was with us, began putting on life jackets and parachutes. The doctor, who incidentally has done a considerable amount of flying, was so nervous that he was struggling around frantically trying to put his chute and life jacket on. When he finally got everything on he had put the life jacket over the parachute belt which was wrong, so he had another struggle taking everything back off and putting it on again. Never before have I seen anyone sweat so much in cold weather as he did. As for me, I didn't have the least idea on how to put on a parachute or jacket so I didn't even try putting them on – I just held on tight. Truthfully I thought, sure we were going to crash – it was a very strange feeling – I was already wondering how long it would be until you would be notified. Some of the fellows who have over 700 hours in the air admitted they had never been so scared. The pilot himself said it was the worst he had ever hit. You can imagine our relief when we were past that rough area – no one was able to sleep anymore after that. After so long we finally reached destination, tired, worn out and hungry, but alive!
Talk about a rugged place! The whole camp is right in the midst of the jungle. The first thing we saw as we moved out things into a big open tent, was an immense centipede at least 7 inches long – it's like a great big thousand legged bug only its legs are like claws. We killed it of course, but no telling how many of its relatives are still around. Then as Woody and I were out looking for some bamboo poles to fix our tent with, I was fixing to pull a stick out of some brush when Woody suddenly shouts: "watch out"; a big snake was rapidly making its way towards my back. We got out of there in a hurry I assure you.
Evening finally came. There are no lights in the tents here, so after having eaten and taken a bucket bath, we fixed to go to bed, dead tired. The mosquitoes were stinging us by the millions until we got under out nets – then we could hear them humming around angrily on the outside just waiting for us to come out and they didn't have to wait long either! What happened that & following night is by far the most exciting experience I have been through in my life! I wish so much I could tell you about it, but it's no use trying. It's something I'll never forget as long as I live – I'll tell you all about it when I get back home in the U.S.A.
It's terrifically hot and uncomfortable here. If you wear shorts and no shirt you get eaten up by mosquitoes and if you wear long pants and a shirt you get wringing wet with sweat – I've tried both ways and I've concluded that it's better to wear clothes though it is terribly uncomfortable – I'd hate to catch malaria like so many do.
I'm writing you this letter on my knee sitting on a board in the woods – our tents have no netting and it's cooler out here. Since writing out here is quite an uncomfortable task, I won't be doing much of it and I'll appreciate it if you will pass this letter on to Paul. I'll be writing you again soon. Lots of love from your sailor boy, Pierre Borel AMM2/c
P.S. We are not going to stay on this island for good – We will be returning to our own place again after so long – I have no idea how long it will be.
_ _ _ _ _
PETE – Guadalcanal – 13 APR 1944
It's becoming a common joke among us to call our outfit the Patsu commandos. We're not the least bit like what people think the navy is like – we're really sort of a combination of the army, the navy, the C.B.'s, the marines and the air corps all put together, and that's the reason this is such an interesting outfit to belong to. We probably go through a lot more hardships than stationary units go through, but we also profit from a great many thrilling experiences which more than compensates for the hardships. You read in your newspapers of how the Americans are pursuing the enemy – that is certainly literally true about our outfit.
In spite of what seems should be the opposite, we are getting much better food now. We were all so glad to get away from that army cooking – a little bit longer and we would all have been sick, but we are eating navy chow now and it sure makes us feel better.
Four letters were waiting for me: your letter of Mar. 15th, one from Clayton Moran, one from Ruth Hill and the Alumni Bulletin from Drake University. Boy it sure was great getting mail again!
I'm enclosing four pictures. Those were all taken at the same place #65 and #68 were, which I sent you in my previous letter.
I was glad to hear that Mark has been sent to Harvard to study [radar]. We have a [radar] department in our outfit with an officer in charge. On one of our instruments we work in conjunction with this [radar] officer. I suppose Mark will occupy a similar job when he finishes with his studies. Seven months is a long time – it will keep him out of danger just that much longer. I haven't written [to] or received a letter from Paul yet. Neither have I heard from John for sometime. Once things get organized a bit, I'll have more time to write than I've had these past few weeks and I'll be writing to those brothers of mine.
You all mean a lot to me and I love each of you with all my heart.
Pete Borel, AMM1/c
_ _ _ _ _
PAUL – Aboard USS THOMAS JOHNSON in English Channel off Cherbourg – 29 JUN 1944
My dearest sweetheart:
Do you remember when first we met? You were an extremely attractive girl; even as you now are. We were playing games at your house and aside from paying more attention to you than to the games I have no doubt that I probably tried to show off enough to attract your attention.
Then came the following weeks when we went places together. You shared your time with others which included my brothers and I couldn't help being a bit jealous even though there was no reason in the world why you shouldn’t have gone out with others and even preferred their company. Even then I must have begun falling in love with you though I probably didn't realize it and wouldn't have admitted it if I had because I was unsettled as to what to do with my life.
Remember when I went to school? You were wonderful in the way you wrote even then. Being able to see you during the first summer, at Christmas time, and during the Easter period made the time seem much shorter. Psychologically I was still confused. You were not, however. Just true. True to yourself.
It seems it was only after I started working in a job which held some definite future and got into a routine of daily living where the mind is less vocal that I could listen to my heart. Do you remember when you came to Bartlesville? We had a quiet trip back to Kansas City. During the course of the evening in our small talk I suggested that you come back to B'ville with me. You said, yes, you could come as my secretary. I said, no, as my wife. It seemed inconsequential at the time, but coupled with the fact that I told you that night that I loved you, the die was cast. I knew then that I would marry you if you would have me. Everytime that I thought of the possibility of your saying no, I further realized what a dark future it would be without you.
Remember the day we met in Chicago? On July 3rd we drove out to Chicago U. Even then the rings in my pocket were weighing on my patience. I wanted to pull one out and put it on your finger and hold you in my arms. Yes, I had quite an evening planned. We would have supper at some nice place where they had a roof garden. That would be the setting: we would both look out over the Lake glistening under the light of the moon. Then something came up and Sallie wanted to go to the Camp to see Howie and it seemed selfish not to go on out. That night we took a little spin around in the car. And not long after you were wearing my ring. I can see you now with a half a dozen rings on at one time trying to decide which you liked best. Then we came to the little tavern and we danced to "Wishing.” How appropriate that song was – and is. Its sentiment can be true for us today as it was then. Yes, we danced – you holding onto the silver spoons so no one would take your first engagement gift. The next day you saw me off at the airport.
Remember the wedding? Was there ever a lovelier bride in such a nice church? And after what seemed innumerable delays we were at last off on our honeymoon. We got all of a couple of miles that night! The next morning: breakfast at the Plaza – on to Oklahoma City (via a slight detour). Then Austin, Monterey, Valles, Mexico City. Songs together, laughs, riddles – but all happiness (and our pockets empty). Those were wonderful weeks. They all have been. You getting up in the early morning so we could have breakfast together; then we waited for Maki on the divan. Soon we found out it was to be Borger. How disappointed I was our apartment wasn't ready upon your arrival. But you were swell. Then we bought furniture and got our "own little home." And it wasn't long until we found out someone would be joining us. Then Washington for me and some realization of what it meant to be away from you. What a reunion in Chicago, then St. Louis. Everything was all right again.
Remember the day Nancy arrived? You were brave; you spent more time reassuring me than I did trying to soothe you. If I had needed anything to make me realize how much I loved you it would have happened that night. You came back spent and weak from your terrific ordeal. But you had given the world a new life which was both you and me. How happy we were to watch our beautiful child grow and develop. Yes, and St. Louis was a place where we spent many quiet wonderful days.
Then war came. Our brothers – for they want to be yours too – and our friends began to play an increasingly active part in a world struggle. I began to get restless with a "desk" job which had promise of lasting for the duration. Civil Affairs looked like a chance to play a more active part. Yet it had possibilities of being a task which was in itself constructive. A chance too of working in an avenue by which peoples could better know each other. You know that I dislike trite phrases dealing with ideals which too often are abstract. The whole struggle can be summed up by saying that we are fighting so we may continue to live as we have – you and I – and others who also know happiness.
Do you remember Columbia? Strangely, or perhaps not, some of the most vivid pictures of that period deal with things apart from the school. The vesper services with you at Riverside. Do you remember Chaplain Glen's definition of heaven. A truly human and beautiful one: Heaven is a place where we can continue doing the worthwhile things we have done in life. This brings up the question: what have I done in life that would be worthwhile continuing in the after-life? The only worthwhile thing in my life has been and is you – and our little family. If we can love each other and together love God we can live a worthwhile life. In doing this we will love our neighbors and try to make life more pleasant for those less fortunate than ourselves.
Do you remember when Elaine was born? Once again you went through a terrific ordeal. Afterwards in a tired voice you could say with controlled pride: "another little girl."
Then came the time when it was necessary for us to be separated for a while. It seemed very unreal, very far away. And when it happened it hurt a lot more than seemed possible. Yes, the immediacy of being separated seemed unreal. We had dinner together at "Tony's." Between bites I would look at you and try to see you "impersonally." Then as now it seems incredible that you, Miriam, are my wife. Because when I look at you now I see much more than your physical self. I see kindness, unselfishness, love in your eyes and radiated by your very being. I see a person who during the daytime can be content with doing everyday, ordinary household chores and during the nightime transport us both to another world – a world in which life's fulfillment is achieved by two people in love with each other. It would be difficult to overestimate your contribution to others as a teacher. A teacher in how to live.
Yes, you remember. And I remember. That is why we can both be happy even though apart. That is why we can never doubt that soon we will be together again. To resume a new life. That is why we needn't have fear, for "wishing will make it so."
You must know my heart. I have tried to tell you in words that I love you. Words are always so inadequate to express what one exchange of glances can so much better say. What can describe the casual squeeze of the hand held by lovers?
Inadequate as it seems I want you to know these things. Yes, I remember! And for all these things, thank you, dear.
Your loving husband, Paul
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