Jugglers, Dancers and Gun Loaders
In this letter, Alex writes about the USO show that came to his base. The acts that he describes sound dismal but they serve to pass the time and let the sailors hoot and holler. There is a tap dancing act and an acrobatic act. But for both performances, the costume upstaged the talent. There was a juggler, and the MC’s instrumental talent resembled the purposefully poor violin playing of Jack Benny (an American comedian, vaudeville performer an radio/television personality). The mission of the USO is to give the men overseas a feeling of “a home away from home.” And yet, Alex didn’t move tot he United States until he was 18. Does this show reflect his home (in New York or Europe) in any way? He is also older than most of the other sailors, which enters into his letters often. His relationship with these men can become strained. In his letters, Alex always separates himself from “the boys.” We rarely see a story in which he is “one of the guys,” and feels a strong sense of camaraderie.
This letter moves from a description of this performance, meant to boost morale, to the list of gun commands that Alex must learn. I did not type all of these out, though they are posted here if you are interested in reading them. I can’t help but notice that this letter moves from the USO show to gun commands and then abruptly to a conclusion from a loving father. In this letter the violence of war is juxtaposed repeatedly with the nostalgic, cheesy, luxury of a “homey” performance and the loving sentiments of a father. The letter concludes, “The orders on machine guns are brief and I’ll tell you in another letter. The projectiles are beeshes because they are heavy on the big gun – Goodnight sweet, I love you very much.”
Darling,
I’ve seen the U.S.O. Show and it wasn’t too bad. Of course, 4th class. I guess most of their “do” must go for administration if this is what they can afford.
It consisted of a tap dancing girl who went through the routine. The only thing which was worth about her was her very scanty clothes. It gave a hard on to most of the boys. Then there were 3 sisters on a half acrobatic team with a miserable routine and when one thought that they started it was all over. Of course they were quite shapely and scantly clothes, so there was plenty of applause just to get them out from the curtains.
There was a singer of funny songs. Her voice was hardly able to carry over these easy western songs. She had a long evening gown so, she had to make up with winking and cooing to the boys.
There was a juggler and he was good. But jugglers have to be good. The boys did appreciate him. The last was a woman who played the piano and led mass singing, I prefer our own organist at our regular movie nights a first class sailor!
The master of ceremonies had a stack of stale jokes and tried his best to be funny but his jokes either went over the head of the boys or they were as old as Methuselah.
So he tried to make up by singing and that was poor his guitar playing reminded me of Jack Benny’s violin.
So, you see, for this I almost neglected you. But how would I have known in advance.
The boys are better behaving now, but there is one who is getting on our nerves. But its my fault I gave them too much confidence. And I should know better. I guess I was so anxious to make some friends that now they are over friendly, and they either kid with me or annoy me with their eighteen year old jokes. But I’ll know better next time.
Today we took a 50 caliber machine gun apart. I don’t know the name of one of the part yet, so I better begin to buck up. With the various positions on the gun I am not so bad. Particularly on the big ones. I make a good first loader. I guess I’ll explain you when I come home.
Now I’ll write down all the commands. This will give me practice and give you something to read. OK?
First Command
____ everybody runs to his position around the gun and sings out his position in the following order
Pointer switch on –
Trainer on target
Sight setter
1st loader man
2nd loaderman
3rd loaderman
—page —
5 command is:
Secure gun
The loaders pass the ammunition buck into the boys. Plug man closes the breech and every body leaves gun.
In case any one in the crew sees something wrong around the gun he calls out silence.
At that command, who ever gives it, all mo
Well darling its time to hit the hay. This was good exercise for me and at the same time gives you an idea what the arm guard is doing aboard ship with the big guns.
The orders on machine gun are brief and I’ll tell you in another letter.
The projectiles are beeshes because they are heavy on the big gun –
Goodnight sweet
I love you very much
Both of you and Cookie.
Daddy
Farts and Giggles
I’m getting these posts started again with a lighthearted and funny letter from Sylvia in 1943. Alex, at this time, is still posted in Virginia for training. This allows for more levity than the letters Sylvia writes in later years. Cookie has added some illustrations of what look like helicopters and airplanes to the envelope and Sylvia sings and jokes cheerfully as she plans for Alex’s leave. She is still living on Jerome Street in Brownsville in 1943. I appreciate what a blatant form of propaganda the stamp on this envelope is. It simply reads “Win the War” and features an eagle with 13 stars. Sylvia also mentions that she is going to a church committee meeting. If this strikes you as odd, since she was a secular Jew, that’s because it is. The omnipresent, anti-communist censor already wields it’s power in this letter and Sylvia knows she cannot write that she is attending a communist party meeting. While she leaves off with a sophisticated code for her political actions she opens with some of her less sophisticated jokes.
Enjoy!
Tuesday – 12/14 (1943)
Dearest Sweetheart –
Welcome home, darling. I know it’s a little premature, but I feel like celebrating your arrival earlier.
When daddy comes marching home again Hurrah, hurrah We’ll give him a hearty welcome then Hurrah, hurrah Oh Mommy will cheer and the baby will shout And all the damn relatives will come about And we’ll all shout, “Welcome, welcome Alex, dear!”Oh darling, Cookie farted loud and long in her excitement-And they’re just like her daddy’s. I smell the resemblance! (JOKE)
Adrienne has the high-chair from Sadie’s friend. It’s solid but I’ll have to paint it, and get a new pillow for her little (?) tuchas. It’ll be perfectly all right for Cookie – and she might be able to use it in a few weeks. Cookie stands like this now and swings back and forth.
She looks quite adorable doing that. Fay and Sam’s kid Susan (KU) did this at 8 or 7 months of age! So you see, our infant is quite well developed. Tomorrow I’ll be taking her to Dr. Black – at 1:30 and I can reach him by taking the line at Jerome and Sutter, so it’s convenient too, besides his being a good doctor. I wrote you about him but you didn’t answer.
Mommy took a nice long walk today (some excitement!) because she’s getting too fat. So please don’t say she didn’t warn you. You won’t recognize her tuchas when you see it. It’s 2x the size it was when last you saw it. And she won’t blame you too much if you refuse to take her in your lap – because she’ll squash you flat!! (But baby I can’t wait to sit in your lap and have your arms around me.) Mommy’s going to church committee meeting tonight. Will write you about it.
Want to mail this off to you. Lots of love and some very warm, close embraces, with a few resounding kisses thrown in.
Mommy and Cookie
Bad Joke Department
In this letter Sylvia writes self consciously about the censor. She cannot get used to the fact that there is a third party reading about their private lives. Yet here I am putting these letters out for the world to read. I wonder when personal and private life becomes an historical part of public memory. Sylvia includes a few jokes in this letter that are meant for the censor’s entertainment as much as Alex’s. The first joke is my favorite. The third joke, I don’t understand. [Update, Shtik Drek means piece of shit in Yiddish] Anyone who has lived with me knows I make up jokes about inanimate objects. Sylvia calls these kind of jokes a poor attempt at wartime humor, where people are looking for “phony gaiety” wherever they can find it. I have no such excuse. None of this letter was censored, though it must certainly have been read. I hope whoever read it laughed or cried.
I am repeatedly astonished by how powerful these letters can be. Time and again I have chosen a letter at random (or one that happened to be written on the same date that I am writing a post) and Sylvia’s words feel like they were stolen from my own head. To me the letters are astonishingly relatable. I mean, I don’t have a child, but her letters have an uncanny ability to reflect thoughts that I relate to so strongly.
Sylvia writes sweetly about her apartment with Alex and their cooking habits. She reminisces about their courtship and makes her friends envious by telling stories about their relationship. Here, she also says that she knew she would marry Alex the moment she set eyes on him. Fact or fiction, (who’s to say?!) it’s lovely to read about.
Mommy did go out and is now back. It’s too late to use the typewriter, because although its supposed to be a noiseless machine, it makes enough racket to wake the household.
While making the formula this evening I was so engrossed in my thoughts about you, that I poured Cookie’s milk into the sterilizer instead of into the measuring cup! Isn’t that terrific?
But I’ll begin to show some sense soon sweetheart. In regarding this letter, it sounds a little slaphappy – but that’s because I’m so keenly aware of there being a third party (that censor!) who is introduced to our private life.
And there are so many things I’d like to say, but can’t, as I can’t grow accustomed to the idea of a stranger knowing our private thoughts! I wonder how he feels about reading other people’s mail – guess if they don’t try to keep a sense of humor they become crabby old maids. So the following is for you as well as the censor.
Bad Joke Dep’t
- Did you hear about the moron who thought his typewriter was pregnant because it skipped a period?
- Did you hear about the moron who crippled his poor old mother because someone told him to go back where he came from?
- Did you hear about the moron who flushed himself down the toiled because someone told him he was a “Shtik Drek”?
Ouch!
I know they’re bad sweetest, man but that’s what is called ‘humor in wartime.” Anything goes. But its probably a hungry effort on everyone’s part to try and catch some phony gaiety.
Dearest, there are so many things I want to tell you but I’m so tired – and sleepy. It’s rather late- and having to crawl into a cold and lonely bed is nothing a gal looks forward to… but I’m not too tired to say you’re one grand guy! Lately, I’ve started telling interesting stories about the days before our marriage when you were courting me (or was I courting you?) and the stories are really amusing. Blanche was envious when I told her that the first time I set eyes on you – I knew I’d marry you – you lucky stiff! As it — she’s envious, Virgre’s envious, Lida’s envious. All because of you and Adrienne. She’s such a doll – it’s the most —- sensation in the world-
– babe – it’s because you’re not here with me and so all my emotions center around her! But I love that kid so strongly, [cut off] anything happens to her!!! Or to you – I’d die.
[cut off] it’s late and I’m beginning to [feel] a little wacked up (as usual – — meals) so I’ll close this letter [with a ] close embrace and a wish for your return (funny – I’ve got the [feeling] that you’re not far away from us.
Dearest darling –
Cookie and Mommy love you – so hurry home.
(Ripped off part of a note about Butch)
Love,
Sylvia
Location, location, location
Today we are looking at two notes from Alex. Both allude to Alex’s location with mysterious clues and little information. Alex is happy to be exploring a city. This is a consolation for him – getting to travel to new places. He clearly makes the most of the opportunity. I would imagine it would be difficult for Sylvia to read these letters about Alex sight seeing. She cannot be there with him, and she also cannot hear about what he is doing in any detail. These notes are unlike the more long-winded and downtrodden letters that Alex writes when he spends long days on the ship.
In the first letter, written on November 24th, 1944, Alex simply mentions that he is trying to see as many “worth while” sites as he can in this “interesting” place, but says he cannot write anymore because it will be censored anyway.
The second – written five days later – is a funny (and beautifully illustrated) postcard that was mailed from France, though we get no other information about his location. The postcard itself is quite a specimen. I write more about it below the card.
Dec. 4, 1944
Dearest,
Again, a few words to let you now I am well and happy. This place is very interesting to see and I am busy as hell to see everything worth while [sic]. So as soon as morning comes I see to it that if there is a chance out I go. And I come back drenched, tired but happy.
I can’t tell you about what I have seen because obviously enough of it would not pass the censor, but so much the better, I’ll have more to tell you when I get home, which is going to be not so long from now.
Darling every day I make [it] my business to go and see about mail, there is none, that is the answer. But now I don’t mind it so terribly much, not because I love you less but because the feeling that this separation won’t last too long. Dearest I conclude, I have duty to perform for the next four hours and then I’ll “hit the sack” my dogs are barking.
With all my love to you and baby and a million of kisses.
You loving,
Old Man
**
(I am not certain about whether Alexs reference to receiving no mail is a comment on whether Sylvia has been writing or about whether they are receiving any mail at all.)
November 24, 1944
Dearest,
Just a few lines to let you know I am well. It is a very exciting stay we had here with all the sights to be seen and things to do. It won’t be long now and you shall hear a full report. I hope both you and baby are well. A million kisses and love to both of you,
Alex
It’s fascinating that Alex chooses this card. It depicts two very young boys – both dressed as soldiers – talking about whether they have received mail. A gun lies strewn on the ground next to them and two children run and wave the flag of France behind them. The sadder looking has not received any mail because “she does not know how to write.”
It seems he cannot choose one that would give away his location so here is one that comments on the youth fighting the war and on the letter writing process itself. It addresses how young the men fighting the war are and how their morale relies on the mail.
Image via Wikipedia
The sign above the little boy reads “Ligne Majino.” At first glance I thought the sign might refer to an “imaginary line,” like one that little boys might create in the games of war that they play. However, the closest reference that I am able to find is, “Ligne Maginot,” which was “a line of concrete fortifications, tank obstacles, artillery casemates, machine gun posts, and other defenses, which France constructed along its borders with Germany and Italy, in light of its experience in World War I, and in the run-up to World War II.” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maginot_Line) It was named after the French Minister of War. Whatever the reason that Alex chose this postcard, it certainly seems to tell us more about him than the place he is currently located. I wonder, though, how ubiquitous this type of postcard was in France in 1944.
Scuttlebutt
In this letter, rumors are flying about what will happen next to Alex and his ship mates. This letter was mailed from Norfolk, Virginia in 1943. Alex mentions that he likes the Armed Guard and that the men hope not to be shipped overseas on boats. They were scheduled to return to Brooklyn but it seems that was all they knew. Alex warns Sylvia not to get her hopes up about his return. He closes his letter with a reference to sex. While Sylvia has repeatedly written some scandalous notes, Alex usually refrains from adding any of his own amorous remarks. He throws this in on the last line. Maybe I am imagining this because I am his granddaughter, but I think he was bashful in writing this because the handwriting looks, to me, smaller more difficult to read. Since rumors spread “like wild fire” (as always I am impressed when Alex uses English idioms) on the ship, maybe Alex feels like he could become the subject of the next round of chatter.
Dec. 11, 1944
Darling wife,
Of course sure the butt “fly’s as tick [thick] as shit” that’s how we carraterize what is going on here now. Everybody is coming in with stories of one kind or another.
One rumor goes that all the arm guards will be transferred into the fleet. That as soon as we get to Brooklyn we will be shipped out on boats. That we will get a 48 hour leave as soon as we hit Brooklyn. Some say 15 days. That the whole base is crowded. That all who come back from a trip will get 15 days and the ship will get new crews. It is absolutely impossible to make sense on all the talk that is passed around. The prediction or another must come true so we all will say that we knew it ahead of time. Of course, no one here wants the fleet, we all like the arm guard.
Yesterday I dropped a little invention of mine on the mail line. I invented the fiction that all who come out of AG school will be sent out to the Amphibious arm 350 at the time. I said that a gunners mate 3rd class told me, and he was told a chief. Well today this same story came back in my own barracs heard that the captain of the station told the 1st class gunner mate, I almost was fooled myself that is how distorted the story became. I dropped in on the line where we wait for mail and all the gun crew captains are there so it spread like wild fire particularly because no one has any love for the Amphibious core. So tahts what scuttlebutt is and that is why I want to repeat, do not build castles in the air. In the last few letters I am emphasizing this not because there is any change, which you might suspect. So far everything is as was before, but there can be changes and I don’t want you to create illusions and then be disappointed.
For instance, they asked at the ___ (?) today 35 volunteers for KP duty. If they don’t get them, they’ll draft them from the ranks, and I can be just as much in the draft and get stuck here as the next guy. They are kept on the job for 3 months. You see if a similar accession would arise in Brooklyn of course I would not sneeze at it.
I am sorry about Frankie not being well, if I didn’t mention it in my other letter, I am sorry but I was thinking too much about coming home.
If you have the occasion to get the high chair from Sadie’s friend, by all means get it you can always place for the few dollars you have to spend. You are beginning to develop a bad tract, everything for Cookie and always Cookie first. You carry that further and you will find that no one will count anyone but Cookie. Of course that will bring other things in its wake you will be jealous of her and pauper her and so on. Next time. –
You to say, it was for yourself.
Mail your last letter not later than Wednesday, it will reach me here on Friday. Don’t wait for me at the station because I’ll be in ranks anyway and I can’t break out, and I don’t want to be tempted.
I love you darling. Kiss Cookie for me.
I’ll make love to you soon in the meantime kisses
From Alex
Traces
I find it poetic that the quote next to Sylvia’s yearbook photo is, “She will never pass into nothingness.” Lately, as I walk around Brooklyn, I try to notice traces of the past. Each neighborhood carries the weight of it’s past so differently.
Some traces can be found because of neglect. The land has been left untouched or the real estate hasn’t been deemed valuable enough to call for renovations.
Other traces are found because of conscious preservation like a memorial to a person or an event.
I live in one of those so called “up and coming” neighborhoods where there is a 24/7 organic food store and several new coffee shops. Most recently a new burger place opened up that reuses and rewrites the past. It’s called “Dutch Boy Burger” and calls attention to itself by utilizing the widely recognized Dutch Boy Paint logo (logically enough a Dutch boy painting). It has that 1950s diner quality to it and fetishizes the cute old-timey marketing of Dutch Boy Paint. In my household Dutch Boy Paint is most noted for it’s criminal marketing of lead-based paints to children. The dutch boy symbol directly appealed to children and parents who might then be enticed to paint their children’s rooms, toys and cribs with a coat of lead. This burger joint probably isn’t banking on that association for it’s business but I think it is a pretty direct re-writing of the past and employment of nostalgia for a new product. “The whole space used to be one of the Dutch Boy paint shops that were bought by Sherwin Williams,” Roff tells Grub Street. “When we took off the old storefront, the original sign was hanging there and was in pretty good condition and now it’s hanging in the restaurant.” (http://newyork.grubstreet.com/2010/03/dutch_boy_burger_opens_friday.html)
Then there are traces of history that are right in front of you but you fail to notice them because they are part of your daily setting.
Then there are traces that are so subtle you can’t help but have them catch your eye.
Sylvia was just about my age when she lived on Navy Walk with a young child. Whereas I am still trying to learn how to take care of myself she was already wise enough to take care of another human being!
The New Baby Brother
Image via Wikipedia
This year marks the 50th anniversary of the release of the children’s book “The Phantom Tollbooth,” a book that helps explain some of life’s complications through a mix or fantasy and logic, conflict and triumph, character and description. Books like these stay with you for life. The characters are friends that you can depend on. Children’s books are one more way people can pass on knowledge from one generation to the next. Sylvia’wrote a children’s book that is now 60 years old and I’m writing about it here of in The New Yorker – but it’ll have to do!
Sylvia and Alex’s second child, David (my father) was born in 1947. Here we have a draft of a children’s book that Sylvia wrote accompanied by a letter to an editor. The letter is quite open and honest. I find it funny that while Sylvia is sending a manuscript (“MS.” in the letter) meant for children she states frankly, “[T]hese kids can just about knock the hell out of one.”
There is a second page of a letter that is dated 1949 and I’m not sure if this is from a previous draft of the book. Sylvia writes there, too, that she is “pooped… but really pooped.” (Another joke!) Though these letters seem so personal (and her reference to Hungarian film finding it’s place in cinema indicates that she may be writing to a friend of Alex’s), the words are still quite eloquent. Sylvia explains that, despite her exhaustion, the urge to write does not leave her. She writes, beautifully, “My mind is rusty. My fingers are rusty. My ideas are gone.” Still, she writes!
I like that this manuscript introduces a new relationship to the family. It is clear that Sylvia is writing for her children as well as about them. This book is about the relationship between siblings: their expectations of one another, their disappointments, their guardianship, their admiration and their love. (Thanks to the world of self publishing, I now “publish” this with no editor at all. Can you tell?!)
Money Grubbing
As the weather cools down and summer draws to an end the company of letters becomes all the more comforting. This letter illustrates the importance of sharing the small, seemingly mundane details of everyday life with the one you love – even when you have precious little time and your correspondence is anything but instantaneous. The question remains, as always: What merits recording? What is worth writing in a letter to someone an ocean away? Sylvia spends the majority of this letter describing the items of clothing that she has bought, or will buy, for Adrienne. What seems like a collection of day-to-day details turns into a broader, more historically significant document very quickly. Sylvia acknowledges the sacrifices that Alex is making in sending her money. She is consciously reciting what she spends each dime on so that he knows the money is well spent. Sylvia allows Alex to take part in some of the happiness that the money is helping to provide. While she may come off as simply a consumerist, spendthrift wife telling her husband about frivolous purchases, Sylvia is really comforting Alex by applauding his ability to provide for his wife and daughter.
With the time that has passed, and the fact that these letters were saved, these tidbits become weightier. While these words were dear to Alex, their value has changed over the years, becoming an historical record, a personal diary, and a rich descriptive picture of a day that Sylvia spent with Adrienne.
Ohrbach's Department Store
*Ohrbach’s – the store that Sylvia refers to in this letter – was a department store originally located in Union Square that stayed in business from 1923 until 1987. I like that this shop existed from Sylvia’s youth and survived until my lifetime. I guess sometimes businesses and shopping habits can be a great historical record.
I don’t know what editorial board Sylvia is referring to in this letter. But I do find it compelling that Sylvia mentions her very active life only in passing. She the goes on to write pages about her day with Adrienne and her little white shoes. I could read Sylvia’s description of Adrienne’s flushed “darkish” complexion in overalls and white shoes over and over again. The words are filled with such a deep, motherly affection. She ends her description of the day with the line “Some fun, eh kid?” I imagine she is referencing the Disney movie, “The Three Caballeros,” which was released in 1944. It was a follow up to “Saludos Amigos,” an even more blatant propaganda Walt Disney film that was commissioned by the U.S. State Department as a part of the FDR’s Good Neighbor policy. This was an effort to promote unity in the Americas to counter German and Italian propaganda.
Lastly, Sylvia addresses the disappointment that they both felt when they discovered Alex would not be returning home as soon as they had expected. But Sylvia, as always, remains both affectionate but optimistic. As she says, otherwise they’d both end up in the nuthouse.
Talking with my aunt (Adrienne) the other day, she mentioned that what struck her so much about these letters was the idea that the war would be coming to an end. There was a general feeling of homecoming in 1945, an knowledge that there was a definite end point that would mark a time when the bad guy was defeated. How different it is from the wars we live with now in the post-Vietnam era.
Monday night 3/19/45
Darling,
I’m scribbling this note to you while I have the opportunity. There’s an editorial board meeting at our house tonight and we’re all busy on the paper. This afternoon I received your money order for 20.00 – darling you’re wonderful! I feel guilty in accepting it as I’m sure you’re being deprived of a great deal. I love you all the more dearly for your sacrifices, dearest – but it still makes me feel like a money grubbing wife. However, now that it’s here, I’ll spend part of it to buy Adrienne a pink bonnet and a few pairs of outdoor overalls and maybe a few dresses which she now needs as she’s quite a young lady. I’ll buy myself a pair of shoes too, as all I had was a pair of mocassins [sic] which I told you about – and I got a pair of high heels (finally)
…when Anna gave me a check for $22 which she received from her woman’s (?) sick benefit fund. No, she’s not sick – but they give these checks to all their members.
Friday I bought Adrienne a new pair of shoes – white – and they’re adorable. Her last pair I purchased in Ohrbachs – size 7 ½ – and when I went to Silenfelds (?) where I usually buy her shoes, they told me Cookie had developed weak arches because of Ohrbachs shoes. They gave her a size 7 ½ too – but their 7 ½ is almost an inch larger than Ohrbach’s was! They built something into Cookie’s shoes to fix her arch – and she’s more active than ever. She looks adorable in white shoes.
Darling, if you had seen her today, you’d have loved her. You know her type of complexion – darkish – well she had a delicately warm flush on her cheeks and she wore a pink sweater and pink bonnet with her curly hair coming out and blue overalls and white shoes.
She looked like a little doll. We spent the afternoon in the park and she just couldn’t get her fill of the “see-see, Mommy” and of the swings. I not only had to push her, but her doll too, who was in another swing! Some fun, eh kid?
Dearest, your letter sounded a bit depressed and I can understand why – since you had expected to come home. Sweetheart, you tried to write to me in encouraging tone, telling me it’s better for our future plans if you’re away a little longer. Darling, I believed what you wrote! And although it hurts dreadfully to know that we won’t see each other as soon as we expected, I think that looking at things as optimistically as possible is the only solution…
… for both of us, otherwise we’d both end up in the nuthouse.
Sweetheart, remember always how dearly I love you – and how anxiously I await your return. There’s nothing I won’t do for you on your return – I’ll even get up to make your breakfast! (Just picture the three of us around the breakfast table. Sounds swell, yes?)
All my love, honey –
Sylvia
Gunman 2: Some Guys Had Daggers In Their Eyes
Some of the more nuanced relationships between the sailors come out in this letter. I am excited to read some details about Alex’s life on the ship. Alex compares his recounting of events aboard the ship to him coming home from a day of work and complaining to Sylvia about work. As he puts it, he is doing Sylvia a favor: “I just write about this to sort of thing to make you feel like we used to when I arrived home and complained about the days happenings.” It is nice to hear a reference to their life together before the war and the intimacy of their relationship.
In this letter Alex has just passed an exam to become a gunman. When I visited his grave at Arlington National Cemetery, I noticed it said GM 2 below his name. I cannot find a good source to more fully explore what kind of exam a sailor had to take to earn this position. Alex is proud of earning such high marks on the test. This is still unclear to me but GM 2 (Gunner’s Mate Second Class) means Alex was a Limited Duty (or Petty) Officer. Alex either had to “satisfactorily complete initial Gunner’s Mate “A” school training,” or “‘strike’ for the rating as a deck seaman by showing competence in the field of ordnance.” (Wikipedia Entry “Gunner’s Mate”) I am endlessly astounded by Alex’s intellectual prowess, having only attended school through 8th grade. I imagine there was a pay raise that came with his becoming a gunman but wonder what else it might mean. His role as a leader on the ship has come up in a few letters. Sometimes Alex is “one of the boys” and sometimes he finds himself separated. In 1945 Alex was 33. It seems that the average age of a soldier in WWII was between 23-26. As Alex was already married and a father, this might have separated him further. As a caring and social man I have no doubt this was hard on him.
The only time I heard my grandfather speak about being a gunman during the war was also the last time I ever saw him. He regaled the family with stories about the war, though some were more believable than others. I wrote down that he told us: “When I got to New York City there were one hundred people waiting for me. They did not know me but they began to march down after me and they began to sing Happy Days Are Here Again.” (We are pretty sure that this isn’t exactly true.) He talked about how terrified he was when he was squatting behind a gun and bullets were flying at him, and it seemed almost like he was still there when he spoke of it. It is as if he waited until the very last chance to confide this in the family. I have trouble reconciling the image I have of the gentle man that he was with the idea of him behind a weapon.
In this letter Alex also gushes over his daughter, again. He writes quite a bit about the photos that he has received. He talks about who she resembles, the fact that she looks strong and healthy, full of gumption and not fat. This is at least the second time Alex has mentioned that he does not like fat women (or babies, apparently). Still, from what I’ve heard and seen of Sylvia (and her various descendants) she was no wisp of a woman.
I apologize for the scan mishaps on this letter.
March 14/45
My dearest sweetest wife,
I received your dated as up to March 3. To my great delight when I opened one I’ve seen the pictures of that adorable brat of ours. She sure grew since I last seen her. She is practically a lady. Really I can’t find words of how to tel you, what a wonderful mother you are. She is pretty, she looks healthy and strong. I care [?] type to look at these pictures.
On one of these she looks like Serena when she was a child or mom on others I recognize myself and on others still, you or your mom. But no matter who may she resemble she is beautiful by herself. Some of the snaps are really sweet as the one where she is trying to take the doll away from the kid, and sort of makes me feel proud where she towers over the others, I am particularly happy that she is not round and fat like some babies I know. I can hardly wait for a shot where she has lighter clothes on, or better still, where I’ll see her in person. Darling, I love you even more, if that is possible, for being the mother of such a beautiful baby.
We had a bit of work aboard lately, but now all is squared away and I’ll have a little more time to write you.
We just received word from the Armed Guard that 2nd class rating can be granted only if the tests have been taken ashore, so our officers recommendation wasn’t valid. But luckily in this port we could take the tests ashore and so you can write to ARGm 2/c because I passed my exams with 3.5, which appeared to be the highest mark aboard this ship. We were 10 to take them 4 failed and Teddy will take his test tomorrow for 2nd, I am shore [sic] he will pass it, so we will have two 2/c. I am very happy to heave the highest marks particularly because no one can say that I didn’t study of work for my rate.
I am in particularly peculiar position. If there is a slight tightening in discipline or the crew is bawled out by the officers for some reason, the boys think that I am the cause of it. But of course they don’t think that if something good comes about that I might have something to do with it. So of course I am between the hammer and the anvil. For instance the other day liberty was postponed to a couple of hours later and some guys had daggers in their eyes.
Today someone misplaced the gang way book (which of course promptly was found) after liberty was canceled till it was found. And of course I am the guy who gives these funny ideas to the officers. Needless to say, I am mostly interested to have a smooth running crew, and to accomplish as much as possible with the least necessary disciplinary action. But at the same time I do believe that either some one gives orders or there would be nothing to show as accomplishment. In the morning I manage to be the first out of my bunk and down the line, share in all the work, because I believe that one who wants to have the respect to be obeyed has to show his own willingness to carry out orders.
At the beginning of this job there were a few signs, but I guess most of it is appearing now, of resentment. One day I found roll of toilet paper on my bunk, another time, they made up a work list all in fun of course, and made me “wiper” in the engine [?]. Of course both [?] were not accidental, but I took no notice of them. As the person responsible did not get the satisfaction to see me angry or even that I would understand that an offense was meant to be directed at me. So he must be quite unhappy.
On the other hand when something comes up I make my decision to heave the men’s opinion and so try to run things justly. So it is not bad at all and most of the boys consider me their friend. Many times I anticipate their thoughts and in that case I act as I see it is right to act.
Now don’t think I have a difficult time. It is really easy to deal with these problems, and most everybody is really my friend. I just write about this to sort of thing to make you feel like we used to when I arrived home and complained about the days happenings.
I am so glad you took those pictures in the projects. It makes me feel closer to home, and I imagine myself walking up, and meeting you white you walk the baby and you don’t expect your sailor to putt into port. Now, now don’t start to look behind your back, takes a little time yet, and I’ll let you know as soon as something sure come about. Right now I expect to go to the Continent again, and I hope that the war will be over soon and I come home for good and rejoice in seeing my two most gorgeous girls in this whole wide world.
With all my love to both of you,
Alex
