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 – Germany – 8 SEP 1945
Dearest Sweetheart:
It has been almost two weeks since I last wrote you and I feel badly at having been so long. Each day I would say that I would set aside some time to write you, then something would happen during the day that I couldn't and by night I would go to bed almost as soon as I got home. For the last eight days we have been working constantly with the Russians and the British in the disposal of the German Merchant Marine. With Walter and Mac we have gotten on in good shape.
When we go to the big meetings, each country has an Admiral to represent it and each Admiral in turn has a few assistants with him. In our case Admiral Ghormley takes a Mr. Dunn of the War Shipping Administration, Commodore Ray and me with him. The detailed work is carried on by two sub-committees. I am on one of these and we rotate the chairmanship. This committee has been meeting at our Headquarters. This means that I have to act as host and we usually work all day and eat at our mess, then I take the Russians home which means an auto ride of about an hour and fifteen minutes.
The whole thing is very interesting but a bit tiring. Fortunately the Russians know some English and the Colonel (who is my opposite number with the Russians) speaks good French so that we can carry on much more informally than it would be possible if we only could deal through the interpreters assigned to us. The British representatives present no new problems since I have worked considerable time with British people during my stay in the ETO. Not having worked with Russians before, it is an opportunity to satisfy the normal curiosity which every American has about a country and its people whose potentials outstrip those of our own.
Enough for that phase of what goes on here. Last Sunday morning I went to a concert put on by the Berlin Philharmonic orchestra. Their regular conductor had recently been killed in an unfortunate incident. He was a passenger in a jeep being driven by an English officer. When they came to the American Zone, our sentry signaled them to stop. This signal was not understood and when they failed to stop the sentry opened fire and killed the conductor. With this as a background, I was hardly prepared to see what I saw at this concert. The guest conductor was an American GI and a colored one at that. This was a bitter pill for the German audience to swallow and I don't know that they got it all the way down. It all went off in pretty good style. . . mainly because the conductor obviously knew his business. Being a student of the arts, you have probably heard of him (I never had). His name is Rudolph Dunbar.
JOHN – Iwo Jima – 11 SEP 1945
I'm coming home at last. We are to leave Iwo Jima tomorrow, and believe we will stop at Saipan. It may take a few weeks, but the main thing is I'm on my way. I believe Marie has plans for an early wedding. Swell by me – the sooner the better. Mother, thank you for all those sweet letters you sent me these past four years. You were a great help to me. Bless you all and good afternoon.
My last letter until the U.S.A.
MARK – HOGGATT BAY, off Japan – 14 SEP 1945
Hello America,
This is Japan calling. Right now I am sitting in the middle of a Japanese Bay at the Northern tip of Honshu Island – a few hundred yards away is the Ominado Navy Base. I haven't gotten ashore – very few have. I might get to go ashore to study the Jap Radar, but I don't think so. Our pilots are the ones having all the fun. They have been flying all over, dropping food and messages to our prisoners of war camps, and taking war correspondents back & forth.
A group of our officers went ashore yesterday and met a lot of Jap officers and also a group of our own liberated prisoners. One of the pilots took my camera along to take pictures, but when he got there he found he didn't know how to operate it correctly and only got one or two pictures, unfortunately. There were some interesting tales to tell – about the prisoners, the Japs, etc. All the Jap officers – Admirals included, saluted everyone and bowed and shook hands, or tried to, and were servile to the point of being ludicrous. The U.S. released prisoners did a lot of favors for the pilots – got them souvenirs, rides etc. If they wanted a ride – they would go out in the street. The first Jap coming along in a car would stop, get out, bow, and hand over the keys to the car and continue his trip on foot. (This is on the Naval Base, I doubt if it would happen anywhere else.)
All this has made me very anxious to go ashore, naturally, but I'll just have to wait.
Our ship has had a bad break – almost all the ships in our group are going back to the states tomorrow, but we have been assigned to the 5th Fleet which is at Tokyo now. So after we are finished here, we will probably join the 5th Fleet and do some transporting or provide air cover until they are through with us. Then maybe we will return to the states and probably shift over to the Atlantic for transport duty. However at that time, or even sooner, the ship will greatly reduce the crew. All the pilots will be taken off and only 10-15 officers and 200 men will remain. There is a good chance that I will not be one of the remaining officers. In fact when you knock off about 80% of your personnel, that means not very many will be left, n'est ce que pas? If I were to be taken off I haven't any idea where I would be stationed. Maybe another ship, maybe an island, maybe the states. None of this will probably happen before a couple more months, but it makes interesting speculation. On the other hand, if I am kept aboard, that will be a good thing as we will probably run back and forth between Europe and U.S., hitting the same U.S. port about every 3 weeks. In which case, Margaret could come to live there and we could see each other quite often. Anyway, sooner or later, things are going to happen of interest. Right now I'm looking forward to Tokyo. I'd really like to see Tokyo.
My job is still the same, still interesting, still easy. If I had the whole war to go through again and had my choice of assignments, I would want exactly what I have. (Only, now, I am ready to go home any time the Navy feels like it.)
The mail service here is rather poor as you may well imagine, I got three letters from Margaret yesterday postmarked Aug. 28, & 27. No telling when I'll get the business law book, eh?
I hope you are all well and I'm sure you are happy. Please don't work too hard; I'll take over when I get home, (heh. heh.)
Love to all, Marc
PAUL – [Berlin] – 28 OCT 1945
Dearest Sweetheart:
Today is our anniversary and I have been glad it was Sunday so I could spend most of the day thinking about you and wishing you well with all my heart. What an appropriate gift to have: knowledge that in a few days time I shall be leaving so we can be together again. There couldn't be anything nicer, could there?
I wanted to go to the concert this morning, but reconsidered and went to church instead. I was glad I did for the Chaplain talked about joy in the present world. It did me good. During the past few weeks I have felt singularly depressed about the state of world affairs and the plight of unfortunate peoples the world over. It seems to me that America has so much to offer and that others have looked to us for leadership. However, I do not feel we have given that leadership and feel that more and more we are proving a disappointment to those that need us as well as those people in the States who concern themselves with our foreign relations. Walter and I discuss these things, as does Al Oram, and we are unable to feel optimistic about anything that has happened so far. The principles of the Atlantic Charter are not getting much more of a break than did the treaties signed by Hitler.
I suppose it seems strange that world events should become the subject of "conversation" in a letter written on our anniversary. But we are part of this world and are bringing up children in it. The state of the nation is but a multiplication of the state of its families. And many families in our land have not had the good fortune to have our luck. How warm my heart feels when I think of you! Then I develop an ache because you are not here for me to see and touch. Yes, I must see and touch you soon for I could not reconcile myself to any further prolonged separation. If you could but know how I miss you and need you.
And so on this day, I have thought again of how we were married and the things which the intervening years have brought. And I have thought of our reunion until it is difficult for my heart to resume its normal pulse rate. We shall have some important decisions to make together, and I shall count on you, as I have in the past, to help me decide what will be the best course of action for our little family.
Believe that I love you always.
Your own, Paul
(Image of anchor.)
For more letters from World War II, click here ("Along the Way: Naval Officer").
PAUL – Germany – 8 SEP 1945
Dearest Sweetheart:
It has been almost two weeks since I last wrote you and I feel badly at having been so long. Each day I would say that I would set aside some time to write you, then something would happen during the day that I couldn't and by night I would go to bed almost as soon as I got home. For the last eight days we have been working constantly with the Russians and the British in the disposal of the German Merchant Marine. With Walter and Mac we have gotten on in good shape.
When we go to the big meetings, each country has an Admiral to represent it and each Admiral in turn has a few assistants with him. In our case Admiral Ghormley takes a Mr. Dunn of the War Shipping Administration, Commodore Ray and me with him. The detailed work is carried on by two sub-committees. I am on one of these and we rotate the chairmanship. This committee has been meeting at our Headquarters. This means that I have to act as host and we usually work all day and eat at our mess, then I take the Russians home which means an auto ride of about an hour and fifteen minutes.
The whole thing is very interesting but a bit tiring. Fortunately the Russians know some English and the Colonel (who is my opposite number with the Russians) speaks good French so that we can carry on much more informally than it would be possible if we only could deal through the interpreters assigned to us. The British representatives present no new problems since I have worked considerable time with British people during my stay in the ETO. Not having worked with Russians before, it is an opportunity to satisfy the normal curiosity which every American has about a country and its people whose potentials outstrip those of our own.
Enough for that phase of what goes on here. Last Sunday morning I went to a concert put on by the Berlin Philharmonic orchestra. Their regular conductor had recently been killed in an unfortunate incident. He was a passenger in a jeep being driven by an English officer. When they came to the American Zone, our sentry signaled them to stop. This signal was not understood and when they failed to stop the sentry opened fire and killed the conductor. With this as a background, I was hardly prepared to see what I saw at this concert. The guest conductor was an American GI and a colored one at that. This was a bitter pill for the German audience to swallow and I don't know that they got it all the way down. It all went off in pretty good style. . . mainly because the conductor obviously knew his business. Being a student of the arts, you have probably heard of him (I never had). His name is Rudolph Dunbar.
JOHN – Iwo Jima – 11 SEP 1945
I'm coming home at last. We are to leave Iwo Jima tomorrow, and believe we will stop at Saipan. It may take a few weeks, but the main thing is I'm on my way. I believe Marie has plans for an early wedding. Swell by me – the sooner the better. Mother, thank you for all those sweet letters you sent me these past four years. You were a great help to me. Bless you all and good afternoon.
My last letter until the U.S.A.
MARK – HOGGATT BAY, off Japan – 14 SEP 1945
Hello America,
This is Japan calling. Right now I am sitting in the middle of a Japanese Bay at the Northern tip of Honshu Island – a few hundred yards away is the Ominado Navy Base. I haven't gotten ashore – very few have. I might get to go ashore to study the Jap Radar, but I don't think so. Our pilots are the ones having all the fun. They have been flying all over, dropping food and messages to our prisoners of war camps, and taking war correspondents back & forth.
A group of our officers went ashore yesterday and met a lot of Jap officers and also a group of our own liberated prisoners. One of the pilots took my camera along to take pictures, but when he got there he found he didn't know how to operate it correctly and only got one or two pictures, unfortunately. There were some interesting tales to tell – about the prisoners, the Japs, etc. All the Jap officers – Admirals included, saluted everyone and bowed and shook hands, or tried to, and were servile to the point of being ludicrous. The U.S. released prisoners did a lot of favors for the pilots – got them souvenirs, rides etc. If they wanted a ride – they would go out in the street. The first Jap coming along in a car would stop, get out, bow, and hand over the keys to the car and continue his trip on foot. (This is on the Naval Base, I doubt if it would happen anywhere else.)
All this has made me very anxious to go ashore, naturally, but I'll just have to wait.
Our ship has had a bad break – almost all the ships in our group are going back to the states tomorrow, but we have been assigned to the 5th Fleet which is at Tokyo now. So after we are finished here, we will probably join the 5th Fleet and do some transporting or provide air cover until they are through with us. Then maybe we will return to the states and probably shift over to the Atlantic for transport duty. However at that time, or even sooner, the ship will greatly reduce the crew. All the pilots will be taken off and only 10-15 officers and 200 men will remain. There is a good chance that I will not be one of the remaining officers. In fact when you knock off about 80% of your personnel, that means not very many will be left, n'est ce que pas? If I were to be taken off I haven't any idea where I would be stationed. Maybe another ship, maybe an island, maybe the states. None of this will probably happen before a couple more months, but it makes interesting speculation. On the other hand, if I am kept aboard, that will be a good thing as we will probably run back and forth between Europe and U.S., hitting the same U.S. port about every 3 weeks. In which case, Margaret could come to live there and we could see each other quite often. Anyway, sooner or later, things are going to happen of interest. Right now I'm looking forward to Tokyo. I'd really like to see Tokyo.
My job is still the same, still interesting, still easy. If I had the whole war to go through again and had my choice of assignments, I would want exactly what I have. (Only, now, I am ready to go home any time the Navy feels like it.)
The mail service here is rather poor as you may well imagine, I got three letters from Margaret yesterday postmarked Aug. 28, & 27. No telling when I'll get the business law book, eh?
I hope you are all well and I'm sure you are happy. Please don't work too hard; I'll take over when I get home, (heh. heh.)
Love to all, Marc
PAUL – [Berlin] – 28 OCT 1945
Dearest Sweetheart:
Today is our anniversary and I have been glad it was Sunday so I could spend most of the day thinking about you and wishing you well with all my heart. What an appropriate gift to have: knowledge that in a few days time I shall be leaving so we can be together again. There couldn't be anything nicer, could there?
I wanted to go to the concert this morning, but reconsidered and went to church instead. I was glad I did for the Chaplain talked about joy in the present world. It did me good. During the past few weeks I have felt singularly depressed about the state of world affairs and the plight of unfortunate peoples the world over. It seems to me that America has so much to offer and that others have looked to us for leadership. However, I do not feel we have given that leadership and feel that more and more we are proving a disappointment to those that need us as well as those people in the States who concern themselves with our foreign relations. Walter and I discuss these things, as does Al Oram, and we are unable to feel optimistic about anything that has happened so far. The principles of the Atlantic Charter are not getting much more of a break than did the treaties signed by Hitler.
I suppose it seems strange that world events should become the subject of "conversation" in a letter written on our anniversary. But we are part of this world and are bringing up children in it. The state of the nation is but a multiplication of the state of its families. And many families in our land have not had the good fortune to have our luck. How warm my heart feels when I think of you! Then I develop an ache because you are not here for me to see and touch. Yes, I must see and touch you soon for I could not reconcile myself to any further prolonged separation. If you could but know how I miss you and need you.
And so on this day, I have thought again of how we were married and the things which the intervening years have brought. And I have thought of our reunion until it is difficult for my heart to resume its normal pulse rate. We shall have some important decisions to make together, and I shall count on you, as I have in the past, to help me decide what will be the best course of action for our little family.
Believe that I love you always.
Your own, Paul
(Image of anchor.)
For more letters from World War II, click here ("Along the Way: Naval Officer").
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