Originally posted 10/4/2020
Today’s post is a typed version of my grandmother’s writing. Toward the end of my grandfather’s life, when he was struggling to orient to present time and place, he began to talk about his time at war in ways that he hadn’t before. My grandmother wrote at times as he talked and also wrote their story. I am honored beyond measure that she willingly shared her writing with me and am pleased to be able to share it with you:
Like all young men of that time, Fred had to register for the draft at age 18. He had done that in August, 1941. We had been dating only 2 months at that time.
We spent as much time together as we possibly could that summer, fall and into the new year 1942. We were sure that we were meant to be a couple for life. The fact that I was born 9 months after his birth (August 19, 1923-May 19, 1924) was the only proof we needed.
We were married in the Lakehurst Methodist Parsonage on a Friday evening, November 20, 1942 and started our life as a couple in a one room and bath apartment over a garage in Toms River, NJ. The bathroom was small with one end of the tub under the slanting roof and ceiling, the opposite end from the faucets. It seemed that almost every time Fred stood in the tub, it was at that end. I’d hear the thump when his head bumped that low ceiling followed by his self-scolding comment. After a while it became difficult to control my chuckling laughter.
Before getting out of the car at the parsonage, he showed me the mail he had received that day; official “Greetings” from Uncle Sam scheduling him for a first appearance for the draft. Not the best news but we knew it was inevitable.
Basic training took place in Maryland. Later he was sent to Fort Devens, Massachusetts for training in heavy equipment. After a while there, he could receive overnight passes to leave the base. He phones and asked if I would consider traveling to Massachusetts to spend some time with him. Would I?!
I went by train from Lakehurst to Jersey City (the end of the line) crossed the river to New York City by ferry then by train to Boston, then changed to a local train that went through the town close to Fort Devens, my stop. Fred had rented a room at a small local hotel where I stayed for almost a week before returning to Lakehurst. A young woman traveling alone at that time was not unusual and transportation personnel were very helpful, thoughtful and considerate. Most of them were older men, some returning to work filling vacancies left by younger men called into service—very different from today.
At Christmastime the volume of mail was so heavy that post office personnel couldn’t keep up with it. A call went to nearby military bases for volunteer help. Fred volunteered and was sent to the Hartford, Connecticut area and again I was called to join him there. He drove a US Postal vehicle during the day, gathering mail from the drop boxes around the city. After reporting to post office officials at day’s end, he was on a pass until 8am the next day. On December 23rd, he told me that I should plan to return to Lakehurst because his assignment would end on the 24th and so would his daily leaves. So back to Lakehurst I went by train and by bus. I had been home only a short time when he came in the door all smiles! What a wonderful surprise! It seems reports from the local post masters about soldiers’ work ethic earned some 3 day passes, so he was home for the holiday! The perfect Christmas gift.
When his heavy equipment training was completed he returned to Maryland. From there he could spend 2 nights and one full day at home on a 3 day pass, which he did once or twice before the order came for his unit to prepare to leave for a new assignment—which turned out to be overseas to Europe in combat against Germany.
Expectation (a typed piece)
How well I remember Christmas 1945.
V-E Day, Victory in Europe in World War 2 had happened in May. Late in autumn I waited eagerly, as always, for a letter from my husband, hoping for some word that he would soon be coming home. Letters arrived regularly but nothing definite about his return. Until December 9th when word went out that a group of soldiers had arrived from Europe and would be mustered out at Fort Monmouth that afternoon.
I was there when he came down the steps of the Chapel, still in uniform but once more a civilian! Waiting with me to greet his Daddy was our 11-month-old son who he would meet and hold for the first time!
Our Christmas arrived early that year.
Thanks for reading! 😊 EW