(Pages 3-4)
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. PAB
PAUL – [Cherbourg] – 12 JUL 1944
My dearest Miriam,
Although I have been here for quite a while already, this is the first letter I am writing from France. The days past were hectic (they still are) and eventful; even exciting. They also were long, and when I turned in sleep would come immediately. Sometimes I never bothered to take off my clothes. Just piled down on my bed-roll leaving tent poles and other gear under the thin mattress, not even noticing the bumps. All in all, however, it has not been nearly as bad as it might. I'll try and tell you a little about it:
I went ashore with the first group. The Captain and Hugh had taken a PT boat from the other side of the channel. In getting into the PT from the ship, Hugh jumped as the PT was rolling and, as a result, broke his foot. He was therefore hospitalized on the beach and could not make the trip overland with the skipper. He is now here and over the protests of the doctors, is working in the office using crutches as a means of locomotion. He will be in bad shape for ten weeks or more.
Anyway, about ten of us came ashore in our group. Sort of an advanced guard before bringing in the main body of men and equipment. We traveled in jeeps over the dusty roads which for the most part were not altogether clear of mines. My first contact with the dead came as I stepped off the boat to hit the beach. We had to pull alongside another boat, and step over a dead soldier to land. It gave me a very queer feeling. Soon the whole affair seemed altogether impersonal, and we went about our business.
In spots the devastation was terrific. Scarcely a stone seemed untouched by the explosive power of giant shells and bombs. In other places, war seemed very remote indeed. Fat, sleek cattle and German horses grazing in the green countryside. The course of battle weaves a pattern all its own. There were quite a number of French civilians. Many cluttered the movements of troops over the roads. Along the roads, disabled tanks stood, grimed by fire. In adjacent fields planes and gliders rested in grotesque positions with the light of day shining through the wasted skeletons of these craft. In the distance, the rumble and roar of guns persisted throughout the course of our journey.
On the fourth of July, small groups gathered to celebrate the day by a simple speech and rally. I got into our town just in time to miss the surrender of the Naval fort to my skipper. It would have been nice to be on hand for that.
One lucky break we have had is that we have not been bombed much. During the first few days, there was considerable shooting, but mostly by our own troops and snipers. We did a lot of destruction. Souvenir hunters and men drunk with wine and cognac. Now the Military Police has the situation well in hand and machine gun duels among our own troops are less frequent. More later about the war –
Paul
PAUL – [Cherbourg] – 31 JUL 1944
My dearest sweetheart:
I am writing you this letter from a German captured typewriter. A few of the keys are different than the ones on our American machines so my typing will be even more rugged than usual. It is quite possible that I will leave tomorrow for another destination but it will only be a temporary move. I will probably come back here since the skipper plans to use this as a headquarters.
Today and the past few days have been a little on the discouraging side. The civil affairs program is going all right but the fact that the skipper has a very small staff makes it often necessary for me to be occupied with administrative duties which take time which should be spent on the civil affairs end of the business. I never worried much about this before because Awtrey was responsible to see that civil affairs were adequately looked after. Now that it is my business to look after things it does concern me at times. However, I know that everything can't always go smoothly and try not to get worked up about it since it would only make matters worse. After all I'm here to take orders rather than to give them and my duty is done when I have made the very best recommendation that I can to the skipper. Then it is up to him if he wants to take it or not.
Yesterday was a good day. Though it was Sunday I was not able to go to church. I left early in the morning with a French official and we went along the coast of the Cap de la Hague to get fishing started in that area. I took my jeep and put the top down and loaded my mussette bag with 'K' rations, gun, canteen, notebook and toilet paper (just in case). A mighty handy thing to take on a picnic. It was swell to get away from the dusty city and the stacks of papers that it takes to run a war (so they say anyway). As it turned out my lunch was augmented by some vegetables and meat made available to me at a village inn so that we had a nice meal. We do not eat in restaurants nor buy food on the market since it would be depriving civilians.
In mid-afternoon while waiting for some of the fishermen to bring their papers and credentials (we must be careful of enemy agents) I got the car loaded with little French kids and took them all for a ride. I always take a little something along in the way of candy for them too. All of which makes me a favorite son. They call me 'Lieutenant Paul,’ in French of course. Got back in the early evening and spent the rest of it at the skipper's house discussing the general situation prior to his leaving today.
I always like to be with these kids since it brings home to me my two little sweethearts. At times it is very difficult to be away from you dear ones. If you could but know how my heart goes out to you it would warm you and make you feel like you are not alone and that we are in fact very close to each other.
All my love, Paul
Excerpts from The Invasion of France and Germany, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Vol. XI, by Samuel Eliot Morison (Little, Brown and Co. (1957))
Admiral King, anticipating that the United States Navy would take part in the administration of conquered European territory, had assigned to Comnaveu staff in July 1943 several members of the first class to be graduated from the Naval School of Military Government and Administration at Columbia University. By the end of the war, Admiral Stark had about a hundred of these specially trained officers under him. (p. 325).
The Germans, in obedience of Hitler's orders, left Cherbourg a demolished, ruined and booby-trapped port . . . . Clearing was begun by the Navy reconnaissance party, of which Captain Ives took command on 28 June [1944], Commander Walsh becoming his chief of staff. Commodore William A. Sullivan and part of his famous salvage outfit arrived shortly after. Rear Admiral John Wilkes, now Commander United States Naval Bases, France, arrived 14 July with his capable staff, a few hundred Seabees and two “Drews” to operate the port. . . . (p. 216)
On 2 August [1944], the United States Navy suffered its first casualty in this campaign. Captain Norman S. Ives, Commander of the naval base at Cherbourg, headed a party of 97 naval officers and men which moved west with the army to reconnoiter the liberated ports. They entered Granville just ahead of evacuating Germans, then proceeded along the road to Brittany, intending to reconnoiter Saint- Malo, on a false rumor that it had already fallen. At a hamlet near Pontorson, they ran into a German ambush. The Captain, Lieutenant Commander Arthur M. Hooper USNR and four sailors were killed; eight were wounded; the rest took up defensive positions alongside the road until a column of tanks belonging to the 6th Armored Division arrived from Pontorson and rescued the survivors, (p. 299).
PAUL – [Cherbourg] – 29 SEP 1944
Yesterday was quite a day. To begin with it seemed like a quiet day during which nothing much would happen. The day before I had arranged for a French Naval officer (who formerly was in command of the "Normandie") to join a Russian Naval mission visiting here. The head man of the Russians was a commodore.
It seemed everything was all set for the French commandant to entertain the Russians on one night and our admiral to do so the next evening. Then plans were changed and the admiral decided to have his supper on the only night the Russians would remain here so that the French were out in the cold. This I had to explain to the French and invite the commandant to supper with the admiral. Of course the French were indignant and refused to attend and proposed to make an international incident of it by writing a note to the French Minister of the Navy at Paris. I finally pacified the French by suggesting that their honor would be saved if the Russian commodore made a formal call at the Prefecture (French Naval Headquarters). So I dashed out to the airport and got the commodore between planes and he kindly agreed to accommodate.
At 6:15 p.m. I met the commodore again at the airport, took him to French headquarters and he paid a formal call amid bugles and a guard of honor. At 7:15 p.m. I called for the French commandant and the officer we had arranged to have attached to the party and escorted them to dinner with the admiral at his chateau. Everybody was satisfied and had a good time – and Borel had done his bit to maintain friendly relations between allies. I am enclosing a nice view of the chateau where the dinner was held. There was an interesting melange of English, French, and Russian thrown around during the course of the evening.
So you see by this little example, I have to do some fancy explaining and arguing sometimes.
This of course is one of the highlights only. You must not get the impression that I am in such a distinguished milieu all the time. There are days when one wonders what the hell the use of it all is. Days when you pick up fleas and you wake up in the morning with as many as 65 bites which itch terribly and are bad enough they almost leave scars. Days when we have no lights and no water – and the dust from tank convoys is thick on your skin when you go to bed at night. Days when some harbor craft hits a mine and men must go out to recover pieces of the bodies of their friends with a basket. Days when all Frenchmen seem greedy and Americans sour, and you feel like just "sitting" the war out because you feel you're stuck.
But is it a little like golf. One good solid smack with the driver makes up for the times you curse the sand traps. And war too, is only a game, with adversaries playing rough, and for keeps.
Well, my lovely, among all this, I miss you terribly – and need you much. Need you in many different ways – just as we love in different ways. When I'm alone not infrequently I call out your name. But in your absence, the sound of my own voice is unreal and you are far away. God grant we may be together soon.
Your loving husband, Paul
PAUL – [Le Havre] – 12 OCT 1944
My darling Miriam:
At last to settle down and write you a more sane letter. It is 5:00 p.m. and I am in my new office. Things are more quiet this afternoon and soon I will go down to supper. As I sit here on the fifth floor I can look out the window and see the channel, for we are close to the shore – only a hundred yards or so. Directly in front of me, however, is a fireplace. The fire has just gone out. My yeoman, for I have one of my own now, is pecking away at the typewriter. He is a nice boy named Sam Brown. A graduate of Yale University who speaks French and German. I had a tough time getting him assigned to me, but now hope to keep him with me as long as I am in Europe. I feel swell, for this afternoon Lt. Comdr. Crane, the Public Relations Officer, and I went to the Seabee billet and had a hot shower. It was my first bath in ten days.
The first night I spent here was kind of scary. We took over a nice villa-like house on the side of a hill overlooking a portion of the town, and further on, the water. At the gate a sentry was posted to prevent looting. I stayed in the house alone in pouring rain. There were naturally no lights and it was cold. There still were Germans around in hiding and things were just not as settled as they might have been. But I hurried and got in my warm bedding roll and went to sleep. Of course nothing at all exciting happened but at least the possibilities were there and when you are tired, cold and alone, everything is somewhat magnified.
Was wrong, when I said it was the first night because the first night we got in late and I stayed with the enlisted men in a school house. So the above was the second night. Next day another officer showed up (Lt. Comdr. Crane) and we have since become good friends. Now there are about twenty officers in the house. One is the Chaplain, Rev. Wilson, who was President Roosevelt's rector at Hyde Park prior to entering the Navy as a Lieut. St. John and Moberg, my Cherbourg sidekicks, have not yet arrived on the scene. On his recent trip through Brittany I had Seymour order some gift for you as a token of having put up with me for five years, but it will be late getting there.
Hope you had a nice trip to Kansas City and are comfortably situated for a while. I know that the folks are very glad about your visit.
Got a nice letter from your Dad the other day; also one from mommie, and one from Marc and Gibbie.
I love you my dearest. It would mean much if I could be near you now – and always.
Yours, Paul
PAUL – [Brussels, Belgium] – 14 JAN 1945
My dearest sweetheart:
We have arrived at our final destination – of a temporary nature. We got in last night quite early. That was Saturday. Already we know something of this beautiful city. Our trip over was quite something and I want to tell you about it in some detail so I may not do it all in this letter since I am still tired enough to want to go to bed early (it is now 10:15 p.m.).
I made arrangements for the Captain to go over by himself on a despatch boat so he wouldn't have to be bothered with getting our stuff over the slow – comparatively – way. Wednesday last at 0930 we began loading our vehicles and by 1130 we were ready to leave London. There were a British Lt. Comdr. by the name of Morrell; Westerbeek, myself as officers – then a British Marine rating, two Dutch seamen, and my four enlisted men. We had two trucks, a pick-up, jeep with trailer, and our Ford sedan. It all made a compact and cosmopolitan little convoy.
By 1400 (2:00 p.m.) we had arrived at where we were to go aboard an LST (Landing Ship, Tanks). Unfortunately we were told that we couldn't go aboard until the next morning. So we reported in at the Transient Camp near Movements HQ. This whole thing you must keep in mind was handled by the British since our boss is a British Vice Admiral. (By the way his name is Dickens and he is a grandson of Charles Dickens, the writer.) This camp was an old 15th century estate which had allegedly been improved from time to time. The vehicles, all but the sedan, we left at a concentration point – with drivers who had to sleep in them. It was bitter cold with ice on the ground and we felt sorry for the drivers. We might well have spared our feelings since they made themselves quite good beds in the backs of the trucks among the cargo. The rest checked in at the camp. We saw to it that the enlisted men were looked after then had a meal. It was about 1700 by then I imagine. The whole camp except the Hq was in tents. The Hq as I have said was in the old manor house. As we had not unpacked any utensils we were given a plate and some hot food on it but had to eat it with our fingers. This led to some amusing incidents and the eating of great quantities of bread since part of the meal was stew. The tent was open and great gusts of wind cooled the food so we ate rapidly. After this session we viewed our beds. They were to be equally open tents and consisted of a wet, straw tick which lay on the ground. With this as a future we decided to interpret camp rules rather liberally and drove about 23 miles away to a seacoast resort town to have some supper. After lingering over food and having waited for Comdr. Morrell (Charles) to call his youthful bride – I must tell you about that affair also – we almost decided to book (reserve, to you) a room for the night. Our better judgments prevented this, however, since an early morning fog may well have caused us to miss our ship. Then too we had to look after the men. (It was only Bill, Charles and I who went into town.)
So we came back, and reached camp sometime after midnight I should say – or maybe it was eleven, I don’t remember.
I'll pick up the story from there in my next installment, darling. But in each one I'll just have to tell you that I’m very, very much in love with you, and kiss the babies for me.
Yours, Paul
PAUL – [Brussels] – 19 JAN 1945
Dearest sweetheart:
Let's see in my last letter I think I left off with our coming back to that primitive camp prior to our departure. Charles Morrell the Britisher and Bill Westerbeek and I couldn't face the snow drifts for beds so we decided to sleep in the car. We flipped for position – the back seat being allocated to taking one body since there was quite a bit in the way of suitcases and loose blankets about. I won the flip and chose the back seat. Bill ended up behind the steering gear in the front, with Charles alongside of him. We all slept – not well – but we slept with only an occasional awakening. Every time Bill moved he either pressed the starter with his knee (it is on the dashboard) or hit the horn with his arms.
We left at 0730 to join our other cars and embarked at mid-morning. We got cabin accommodations, four to four beds, each bed being a double-decker. Shortly after that some colonels came on board and relieved us of our beds. Nice people. I was damned mad and decided if they wanted to pull the rank stuff I could do the same. So I ended up kicking a British captain out of his bed (the colonels were British too by the way). Later I cooled down and invited the capt. to share his bed with me. The cabin for four ended up with ten. Two in each bunk and two on the floor. The bunks were so narrow we slept with a head at each end and couldn't turn over really. Lights stayed on all night because no one knew how to turn them off – until morning. All in all it was some fun.
During the day, to relieve the congestion in the wardroom, Bill and I would sit in the car, which was secured on the deck.
We landed the evening after the day we had started. We didn't travel all the time but did some waiting to get space to unload. By the time we landed on the shores of Belgium it was dark.
We got the men and cars looked after then had supper at the officers' club – called "Navy House." The rooms assigned us were about two blocks away from the club in a small hotel with a cafe-bar arrangement on the ground floor. We each had a room on the fifth floor – no elevators, and cold – no hot water. The place was possessed with all the atmospheres of a bordel – so I was told by my colleagues. Then I've read books you know. I joined the boys for a beer at the cafe and we were joined by first one then a second daughter of the woman that ran the place. This was one way of running up the bill since it is customary to ask them to join in. They had done much the same with the Germans. One girl told me – we talked French here – that her name was Gilberte (pronounced Jill-beart). During the German occupation she changed it to simply Berte since this was one familiar to the Germans. Now with the English and Americans around she is known as Jill. So life goes on.
(I started to write this letter before supper at the office while waiting for the Royal Marine orderly to get back from his supper so I could go eat. I have the watch tonight and will be here until 0900 tomorrow morning. Then "home" for shave and breakfast and back to the office. Ran out of ink but finally located it – a tough job in the absence of my faithful secretary.)
The following morning we pushed off and got to our destination about 1400. Here I saw a Civil Affairs Officer Lt. Comdr. Geo. Boas who is the Senior U.S. Naval Member of the SHAEF Mission to Belgium. He had spent a few days in Cherbourg on the way through to an assignment sometime last August and since I was able to help make him feel at home there, he has been very nice to me here.
The Captain stays with the Admiral here and I fortunately talked myself out of that deal. Bill and I got a temporary billet in a very nice hotel which has been taken over by the Army (Br.). Always when you think of things here you must realize that this is a British sector and that Americans only appear on certain staffs and are therefore very much in the minority – in fact practically extinct.
We were only supposed to stay a maximum of three days in this hotel since it is for transients and fellows on leave. So we've had to renew because they haven't found us "permanent" accommodations yet.
The room is swell, overlooking a busy square, the middle of which has been turned into a military vehicle parking lot. The room has been all done over and we are the first inhabitants since the change. The coal supply is just beginning to run out in the hotel so we've had some hot water lately. In the rest of the town it is very scarce – worth its weight in gold almost.
Saturday night – our first night in town – Charles, Bill and I took in the ENSA (British for our USO) show "The Merry Widow." They had brought over the London cast and it was darn good – and for free too!
Meals are quite good: Army rations dressed up by Belgian cooks. A nuisance to go to lunch from office to hotel since it takes about ½ hour each way by tram (streetcar to you). Sometimes we take the jeep but it's a bother to park in the lot since it is often full and you can't park on the street. Am enclosing program. You can tell show was good since it's been extended twice now. More next time. I send you all my love sweetheart. Give us a hug will you – I'll have some more of that.
Paul
PAUL – [Brussels] – 22 JAN 1945
Hello sweetheart:
Just a line to tell you I love you very much and wish we were together. I am sending this regular mail so you can let me know what day you got it.
There is a coal shortage here and everyone is freezing – especially me. We are working with our overcoats on and look forward to the next hot meal with a great deal of anticipation. Coal shortage also means no lights except a little while at night and early morning. We've brought Coleman lamps but you almost need a gas mask until we find out how they best work.
It has snowed every day, sometime during the day, for the past three days. Fortunately we all have plenty of clothes and blankets. Many people do not and it must be tough. Here in the city people are fairly well off compared to some in Holland. Relief supplies are available but the lack of transport makes it impossible to solve the problem. (This means don't send me a lot of old clothes to give away – I couldn't help.) Besides I'll want to wear those old clothes after the war with the war debt we'll have to pay.
Hope I don't sound pessimistic – I'm not. Never will be as long as my three sweethearts are rooting for me.
So long for now. All my love dearest.
Paul
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. PAB
PAUL – [Cherbourg] – 12 JUL 1944
My dearest Miriam,
Although I have been here for quite a while already, this is the first letter I am writing from France. The days past were hectic (they still are) and eventful; even exciting. They also were long, and when I turned in sleep would come immediately. Sometimes I never bothered to take off my clothes. Just piled down on my bed-roll leaving tent poles and other gear under the thin mattress, not even noticing the bumps. All in all, however, it has not been nearly as bad as it might. I'll try and tell you a little about it:
I went ashore with the first group. The Captain and Hugh had taken a PT boat from the other side of the channel. In getting into the PT from the ship, Hugh jumped as the PT was rolling and, as a result, broke his foot. He was therefore hospitalized on the beach and could not make the trip overland with the skipper. He is now here and over the protests of the doctors, is working in the office using crutches as a means of locomotion. He will be in bad shape for ten weeks or more.
Anyway, about ten of us came ashore in our group. Sort of an advanced guard before bringing in the main body of men and equipment. We traveled in jeeps over the dusty roads which for the most part were not altogether clear of mines. My first contact with the dead came as I stepped off the boat to hit the beach. We had to pull alongside another boat, and step over a dead soldier to land. It gave me a very queer feeling. Soon the whole affair seemed altogether impersonal, and we went about our business.
In spots the devastation was terrific. Scarcely a stone seemed untouched by the explosive power of giant shells and bombs. In other places, war seemed very remote indeed. Fat, sleek cattle and German horses grazing in the green countryside. The course of battle weaves a pattern all its own. There were quite a number of French civilians. Many cluttered the movements of troops over the roads. Along the roads, disabled tanks stood, grimed by fire. In adjacent fields planes and gliders rested in grotesque positions with the light of day shining through the wasted skeletons of these craft. In the distance, the rumble and roar of guns persisted throughout the course of our journey.
On the fourth of July, small groups gathered to celebrate the day by a simple speech and rally. I got into our town just in time to miss the surrender of the Naval fort to my skipper. It would have been nice to be on hand for that.
One lucky break we have had is that we have not been bombed much. During the first few days, there was considerable shooting, but mostly by our own troops and snipers. We did a lot of destruction. Souvenir hunters and men drunk with wine and cognac. Now the Military Police has the situation well in hand and machine gun duels among our own troops are less frequent. More later about the war –
Paul
PAUL – [Cherbourg] – 31 JUL 1944
My dearest sweetheart:
I am writing you this letter from a German captured typewriter. A few of the keys are different than the ones on our American machines so my typing will be even more rugged than usual. It is quite possible that I will leave tomorrow for another destination but it will only be a temporary move. I will probably come back here since the skipper plans to use this as a headquarters.
Today and the past few days have been a little on the discouraging side. The civil affairs program is going all right but the fact that the skipper has a very small staff makes it often necessary for me to be occupied with administrative duties which take time which should be spent on the civil affairs end of the business. I never worried much about this before because Awtrey was responsible to see that civil affairs were adequately looked after. Now that it is my business to look after things it does concern me at times. However, I know that everything can't always go smoothly and try not to get worked up about it since it would only make matters worse. After all I'm here to take orders rather than to give them and my duty is done when I have made the very best recommendation that I can to the skipper. Then it is up to him if he wants to take it or not.
Yesterday was a good day. Though it was Sunday I was not able to go to church. I left early in the morning with a French official and we went along the coast of the Cap de la Hague to get fishing started in that area. I took my jeep and put the top down and loaded my mussette bag with 'K' rations, gun, canteen, notebook and toilet paper (just in case). A mighty handy thing to take on a picnic. It was swell to get away from the dusty city and the stacks of papers that it takes to run a war (so they say anyway). As it turned out my lunch was augmented by some vegetables and meat made available to me at a village inn so that we had a nice meal. We do not eat in restaurants nor buy food on the market since it would be depriving civilians.
In mid-afternoon while waiting for some of the fishermen to bring their papers and credentials (we must be careful of enemy agents) I got the car loaded with little French kids and took them all for a ride. I always take a little something along in the way of candy for them too. All of which makes me a favorite son. They call me 'Lieutenant Paul,’ in French of course. Got back in the early evening and spent the rest of it at the skipper's house discussing the general situation prior to his leaving today.
I always like to be with these kids since it brings home to me my two little sweethearts. At times it is very difficult to be away from you dear ones. If you could but know how my heart goes out to you it would warm you and make you feel like you are not alone and that we are in fact very close to each other.
All my love, Paul
Excerpts from The Invasion of France and Germany, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Vol. XI, by Samuel Eliot Morison (Little, Brown and Co. (1957))
Admiral King, anticipating that the United States Navy would take part in the administration of conquered European territory, had assigned to Comnaveu staff in July 1943 several members of the first class to be graduated from the Naval School of Military Government and Administration at Columbia University. By the end of the war, Admiral Stark had about a hundred of these specially trained officers under him. (p. 325).
The Germans, in obedience of Hitler's orders, left Cherbourg a demolished, ruined and booby-trapped port . . . . Clearing was begun by the Navy reconnaissance party, of which Captain Ives took command on 28 June [1944], Commander Walsh becoming his chief of staff. Commodore William A. Sullivan and part of his famous salvage outfit arrived shortly after. Rear Admiral John Wilkes, now Commander United States Naval Bases, France, arrived 14 July with his capable staff, a few hundred Seabees and two “Drews” to operate the port. . . . (p. 216)
On 2 August [1944], the United States Navy suffered its first casualty in this campaign. Captain Norman S. Ives, Commander of the naval base at Cherbourg, headed a party of 97 naval officers and men which moved west with the army to reconnoiter the liberated ports. They entered Granville just ahead of evacuating Germans, then proceeded along the road to Brittany, intending to reconnoiter Saint- Malo, on a false rumor that it had already fallen. At a hamlet near Pontorson, they ran into a German ambush. The Captain, Lieutenant Commander Arthur M. Hooper USNR and four sailors were killed; eight were wounded; the rest took up defensive positions alongside the road until a column of tanks belonging to the 6th Armored Division arrived from Pontorson and rescued the survivors, (p. 299).
PAUL – [Cherbourg] – 29 SEP 1944
Yesterday was quite a day. To begin with it seemed like a quiet day during which nothing much would happen. The day before I had arranged for a French Naval officer (who formerly was in command of the "Normandie") to join a Russian Naval mission visiting here. The head man of the Russians was a commodore.
It seemed everything was all set for the French commandant to entertain the Russians on one night and our admiral to do so the next evening. Then plans were changed and the admiral decided to have his supper on the only night the Russians would remain here so that the French were out in the cold. This I had to explain to the French and invite the commandant to supper with the admiral. Of course the French were indignant and refused to attend and proposed to make an international incident of it by writing a note to the French Minister of the Navy at Paris. I finally pacified the French by suggesting that their honor would be saved if the Russian commodore made a formal call at the Prefecture (French Naval Headquarters). So I dashed out to the airport and got the commodore between planes and he kindly agreed to accommodate.
At 6:15 p.m. I met the commodore again at the airport, took him to French headquarters and he paid a formal call amid bugles and a guard of honor. At 7:15 p.m. I called for the French commandant and the officer we had arranged to have attached to the party and escorted them to dinner with the admiral at his chateau. Everybody was satisfied and had a good time – and Borel had done his bit to maintain friendly relations between allies. I am enclosing a nice view of the chateau where the dinner was held. There was an interesting melange of English, French, and Russian thrown around during the course of the evening.
So you see by this little example, I have to do some fancy explaining and arguing sometimes.
This of course is one of the highlights only. You must not get the impression that I am in such a distinguished milieu all the time. There are days when one wonders what the hell the use of it all is. Days when you pick up fleas and you wake up in the morning with as many as 65 bites which itch terribly and are bad enough they almost leave scars. Days when we have no lights and no water – and the dust from tank convoys is thick on your skin when you go to bed at night. Days when some harbor craft hits a mine and men must go out to recover pieces of the bodies of their friends with a basket. Days when all Frenchmen seem greedy and Americans sour, and you feel like just "sitting" the war out because you feel you're stuck.
But is it a little like golf. One good solid smack with the driver makes up for the times you curse the sand traps. And war too, is only a game, with adversaries playing rough, and for keeps.
Well, my lovely, among all this, I miss you terribly – and need you much. Need you in many different ways – just as we love in different ways. When I'm alone not infrequently I call out your name. But in your absence, the sound of my own voice is unreal and you are far away. God grant we may be together soon.
Your loving husband, Paul
PAUL – [Le Havre] – 12 OCT 1944
My darling Miriam:
At last to settle down and write you a more sane letter. It is 5:00 p.m. and I am in my new office. Things are more quiet this afternoon and soon I will go down to supper. As I sit here on the fifth floor I can look out the window and see the channel, for we are close to the shore – only a hundred yards or so. Directly in front of me, however, is a fireplace. The fire has just gone out. My yeoman, for I have one of my own now, is pecking away at the typewriter. He is a nice boy named Sam Brown. A graduate of Yale University who speaks French and German. I had a tough time getting him assigned to me, but now hope to keep him with me as long as I am in Europe. I feel swell, for this afternoon Lt. Comdr. Crane, the Public Relations Officer, and I went to the Seabee billet and had a hot shower. It was my first bath in ten days.
The first night I spent here was kind of scary. We took over a nice villa-like house on the side of a hill overlooking a portion of the town, and further on, the water. At the gate a sentry was posted to prevent looting. I stayed in the house alone in pouring rain. There were naturally no lights and it was cold. There still were Germans around in hiding and things were just not as settled as they might have been. But I hurried and got in my warm bedding roll and went to sleep. Of course nothing at all exciting happened but at least the possibilities were there and when you are tired, cold and alone, everything is somewhat magnified.
Was wrong, when I said it was the first night because the first night we got in late and I stayed with the enlisted men in a school house. So the above was the second night. Next day another officer showed up (Lt. Comdr. Crane) and we have since become good friends. Now there are about twenty officers in the house. One is the Chaplain, Rev. Wilson, who was President Roosevelt's rector at Hyde Park prior to entering the Navy as a Lieut. St. John and Moberg, my Cherbourg sidekicks, have not yet arrived on the scene. On his recent trip through Brittany I had Seymour order some gift for you as a token of having put up with me for five years, but it will be late getting there.
Hope you had a nice trip to Kansas City and are comfortably situated for a while. I know that the folks are very glad about your visit.
Got a nice letter from your Dad the other day; also one from mommie, and one from Marc and Gibbie.
I love you my dearest. It would mean much if I could be near you now – and always.
Yours, Paul
PAUL – [Brussels, Belgium] – 14 JAN 1945
My dearest sweetheart:
We have arrived at our final destination – of a temporary nature. We got in last night quite early. That was Saturday. Already we know something of this beautiful city. Our trip over was quite something and I want to tell you about it in some detail so I may not do it all in this letter since I am still tired enough to want to go to bed early (it is now 10:15 p.m.).
I made arrangements for the Captain to go over by himself on a despatch boat so he wouldn't have to be bothered with getting our stuff over the slow – comparatively – way. Wednesday last at 0930 we began loading our vehicles and by 1130 we were ready to leave London. There were a British Lt. Comdr. by the name of Morrell; Westerbeek, myself as officers – then a British Marine rating, two Dutch seamen, and my four enlisted men. We had two trucks, a pick-up, jeep with trailer, and our Ford sedan. It all made a compact and cosmopolitan little convoy.
By 1400 (2:00 p.m.) we had arrived at where we were to go aboard an LST (Landing Ship, Tanks). Unfortunately we were told that we couldn't go aboard until the next morning. So we reported in at the Transient Camp near Movements HQ. This whole thing you must keep in mind was handled by the British since our boss is a British Vice Admiral. (By the way his name is Dickens and he is a grandson of Charles Dickens, the writer.) This camp was an old 15th century estate which had allegedly been improved from time to time. The vehicles, all but the sedan, we left at a concentration point – with drivers who had to sleep in them. It was bitter cold with ice on the ground and we felt sorry for the drivers. We might well have spared our feelings since they made themselves quite good beds in the backs of the trucks among the cargo. The rest checked in at the camp. We saw to it that the enlisted men were looked after then had a meal. It was about 1700 by then I imagine. The whole camp except the Hq was in tents. The Hq as I have said was in the old manor house. As we had not unpacked any utensils we were given a plate and some hot food on it but had to eat it with our fingers. This led to some amusing incidents and the eating of great quantities of bread since part of the meal was stew. The tent was open and great gusts of wind cooled the food so we ate rapidly. After this session we viewed our beds. They were to be equally open tents and consisted of a wet, straw tick which lay on the ground. With this as a future we decided to interpret camp rules rather liberally and drove about 23 miles away to a seacoast resort town to have some supper. After lingering over food and having waited for Comdr. Morrell (Charles) to call his youthful bride – I must tell you about that affair also – we almost decided to book (reserve, to you) a room for the night. Our better judgments prevented this, however, since an early morning fog may well have caused us to miss our ship. Then too we had to look after the men. (It was only Bill, Charles and I who went into town.)
So we came back, and reached camp sometime after midnight I should say – or maybe it was eleven, I don’t remember.
I'll pick up the story from there in my next installment, darling. But in each one I'll just have to tell you that I’m very, very much in love with you, and kiss the babies for me.
Yours, Paul
PAUL – [Brussels] – 19 JAN 1945
Dearest sweetheart:
Let's see in my last letter I think I left off with our coming back to that primitive camp prior to our departure. Charles Morrell the Britisher and Bill Westerbeek and I couldn't face the snow drifts for beds so we decided to sleep in the car. We flipped for position – the back seat being allocated to taking one body since there was quite a bit in the way of suitcases and loose blankets about. I won the flip and chose the back seat. Bill ended up behind the steering gear in the front, with Charles alongside of him. We all slept – not well – but we slept with only an occasional awakening. Every time Bill moved he either pressed the starter with his knee (it is on the dashboard) or hit the horn with his arms.
We left at 0730 to join our other cars and embarked at mid-morning. We got cabin accommodations, four to four beds, each bed being a double-decker. Shortly after that some colonels came on board and relieved us of our beds. Nice people. I was damned mad and decided if they wanted to pull the rank stuff I could do the same. So I ended up kicking a British captain out of his bed (the colonels were British too by the way). Later I cooled down and invited the capt. to share his bed with me. The cabin for four ended up with ten. Two in each bunk and two on the floor. The bunks were so narrow we slept with a head at each end and couldn't turn over really. Lights stayed on all night because no one knew how to turn them off – until morning. All in all it was some fun.
During the day, to relieve the congestion in the wardroom, Bill and I would sit in the car, which was secured on the deck.
We landed the evening after the day we had started. We didn't travel all the time but did some waiting to get space to unload. By the time we landed on the shores of Belgium it was dark.
We got the men and cars looked after then had supper at the officers' club – called "Navy House." The rooms assigned us were about two blocks away from the club in a small hotel with a cafe-bar arrangement on the ground floor. We each had a room on the fifth floor – no elevators, and cold – no hot water. The place was possessed with all the atmospheres of a bordel – so I was told by my colleagues. Then I've read books you know. I joined the boys for a beer at the cafe and we were joined by first one then a second daughter of the woman that ran the place. This was one way of running up the bill since it is customary to ask them to join in. They had done much the same with the Germans. One girl told me – we talked French here – that her name was Gilberte (pronounced Jill-beart). During the German occupation she changed it to simply Berte since this was one familiar to the Germans. Now with the English and Americans around she is known as Jill. So life goes on.
(I started to write this letter before supper at the office while waiting for the Royal Marine orderly to get back from his supper so I could go eat. I have the watch tonight and will be here until 0900 tomorrow morning. Then "home" for shave and breakfast and back to the office. Ran out of ink but finally located it – a tough job in the absence of my faithful secretary.)
The following morning we pushed off and got to our destination about 1400. Here I saw a Civil Affairs Officer Lt. Comdr. Geo. Boas who is the Senior U.S. Naval Member of the SHAEF Mission to Belgium. He had spent a few days in Cherbourg on the way through to an assignment sometime last August and since I was able to help make him feel at home there, he has been very nice to me here.
The Captain stays with the Admiral here and I fortunately talked myself out of that deal. Bill and I got a temporary billet in a very nice hotel which has been taken over by the Army (Br.). Always when you think of things here you must realize that this is a British sector and that Americans only appear on certain staffs and are therefore very much in the minority – in fact practically extinct.
We were only supposed to stay a maximum of three days in this hotel since it is for transients and fellows on leave. So we've had to renew because they haven't found us "permanent" accommodations yet.
The room is swell, overlooking a busy square, the middle of which has been turned into a military vehicle parking lot. The room has been all done over and we are the first inhabitants since the change. The coal supply is just beginning to run out in the hotel so we've had some hot water lately. In the rest of the town it is very scarce – worth its weight in gold almost.
Saturday night – our first night in town – Charles, Bill and I took in the ENSA (British for our USO) show "The Merry Widow." They had brought over the London cast and it was darn good – and for free too!
Meals are quite good: Army rations dressed up by Belgian cooks. A nuisance to go to lunch from office to hotel since it takes about ½ hour each way by tram (streetcar to you). Sometimes we take the jeep but it's a bother to park in the lot since it is often full and you can't park on the street. Am enclosing program. You can tell show was good since it's been extended twice now. More next time. I send you all my love sweetheart. Give us a hug will you – I'll have some more of that.
Paul
PAUL – [Brussels] – 22 JAN 1945
Hello sweetheart:
Just a line to tell you I love you very much and wish we were together. I am sending this regular mail so you can let me know what day you got it.
There is a coal shortage here and everyone is freezing – especially me. We are working with our overcoats on and look forward to the next hot meal with a great deal of anticipation. Coal shortage also means no lights except a little while at night and early morning. We've brought Coleman lamps but you almost need a gas mask until we find out how they best work.
It has snowed every day, sometime during the day, for the past three days. Fortunately we all have plenty of clothes and blankets. Many people do not and it must be tough. Here in the city people are fairly well off compared to some in Holland. Relief supplies are available but the lack of transport makes it impossible to solve the problem. (This means don't send me a lot of old clothes to give away – I couldn't help.) Besides I'll want to wear those old clothes after the war with the war debt we'll have to pay.
Hope I don't sound pessimistic – I'm not. Never will be as long as my three sweethearts are rooting for me.
So long for now. All my love dearest.
Paul
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