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January 29 2012
January 28 2012
Learning More About Tracking Army Post Office Movements
From my earlier post, written by Dave Kent of the Military Postal History Society, I learned that Army Post Office numbers, or APOs, are an effective means of tracking the location of a military unit. I expect to learn more going forward about how specific that information will become.
I recently corresponded with Richard V. Horrell, who runs WW 2 Connections and lists his home in Nashville. His website says he uses his passion for World War II history to create profiles of military personnel that he “researches and creates for his clients. His clients share with him the desire to remember what these men and women did for us 60 years ago.” I came across him through AllExperts.com.
Horrell responded to my questions about how to track APO numbers, which appear in the return address of all Babe’s letters. He responded on one of the APO numbers, but I realized Babe’s APO changes a few times, so I went looking for a source. I stumbled on this blog post from someone doing genealogical research, with a link to a PDF called “Numerical Listing of APOs, January 1942 to November 1947. It seemed like what I was looking for. I have it available on my site here. (While trying to validate its authenticity, I found it apparently listed in a Smithsonian Institution index).
The last of Babe’s letters to appear on this site, for example, lists his APO as 776. With the document I’ve found, I don’t know a lot about that unit’s whereabouts, but I know this:
On March 6, 1943, the unit was in Casablanca, Morocco. In August, it moved to Oran, Algeria. On Oct. 11, it moved to Naples, Italy. May 1, 1944, it moved on to Capua, Italy. And the unit made seven more moves up from Italy into France, Germany and Belgium before the APO was discontinued on May 31, 1946.
Babe’s last letter with that APO number was July 27, 1943, however, so that unit moved on without him. I know that he arrived in North Africa, specifically in Casablanca, for this reason and several others that I’ll explore in the next post.
January 27 2012
Great Letter; Details of the African People, Weather, Shows and More
This letter is actually two separate letters, with different dates, in the same envelope. This letter is dated July 23, 1943, from Africa. It was in an envelope postmarked July 27 by the U.S. Army Postal Service.
Dear Mom and Pop,
To continue where I left off in my last letter…
I didn’t have room to tell you in my last letter, but I met Joe Pasquale, Lugi Conte and Steve, who ran the garage across the street, on the boat coming over. I was never so surprised in my life as when I saw them.
This is the craziest weather I’ve ever seen. In the daytime, it’s boiling hot, but at night, we freeze in our bed.
You should see these Africans here. Just as soon as we got off the boat and were walking to the railroad station, all the little kids asked us for chewing gum and cigarettes. They couldn’t speak English, but they could say a few words. All the young people shouted hello and goodbye to us and a few of the fellows who could speak French and Italian managed to talk a little with them.
The way these people dress is just like you see in the movies. They wear robes and turbans and a cross between a shirt and pants.
Last night we saw the first stage show held here in this camp. The camp is pretty new and isn’t yet half developed. The show was in the open air theatre. After the stage show, we saw a movie. The stage show was with an all-French cast and we couldn’t understand any of the songs they sung. They also had a woman magician here and she did the same tricks we saw a woman magician do in one of the service clubs at our last camp in God’s Country.
By the way, this open air theater is the best one I’ve seen in any army camp anywhere so far.
We changed our money here for invasion money. The invasion money is the same as ours only it has a gold seal on the bills where the blue seal is. We also got some foreign money. I am sending you some in this letter. It is a fifty franc bill and is worth one dollar in our money. Let me know if you get it.
If I stay in the this camp, I will get a pass to go into town and I will get a lot of souvenirs for you. I won’t be in this camp long enough to get more than one pass though.
The lieutenant told us a story today. He said when he was on the boat, they got a report from Germany or some place that said the ship he was standing on was sunk with everybody lost. There are a few men here who fought right here in North Africa. As a matter of fact, there was a terrific battle staged right at the location of this camp. We can still see the scars on the ground.
That’s about all I have to say for now, so I’ll say so-long.
L&K,
Babe
PDF: Great Letter; Details of the African People, Weather, Shows and More
January 26 2012
How Does a Mother’s Letter Get from Mount Kisco to North Africa?
Since I started this project, I have been interested in how a letter from a mother in a small upstate New York village can find its way across the ocean and land on the lap of her son in a camp in North Africa or some other theater of war. It strikes me as miraculous.
I emailed the Military Postal History Society to find out and got a terrific reply from Dave Kent, editor of the Military Postal History Society Bulletin. Below is his reply.
* * *
During World War II the Army and the Post Office Department realized that mail was very important to the morale of servicemen and devoted a great deal of effort to it. The Army developed its own internal postal system in 1940 and when sending troops overseas, created post offices for each major unit.
These were known as Army Post Offices, or APOs, and each was numbered, partly to keep the location secret, and partly because they realized that many of them would move around a lot. Mail addressed to APOs in Europe was routed through the post office in New York City. Officially, the address would be, for example, APO 123, care of Postmaster, New York, N.Y., although eventually this was often abbreviated APO 123 New York.
Sutton Coldfield, England
Through most of the war, mail to Europe was sent to an Army sorting center in Sutton Coldfield, England, where they kept a current list of where each APO was located.
The Army was then responsible for routing the mail onward to the individual units. At times it could take weeks for a letter to reach a soldier. Mail coming back was handled similarly, but in reverse: the unit mail clerk would postmark it and send it back to the rear area, and eventually it got back to the States, where it was turned over to the Post Office Department for delivery.
Dave Kent
Incidentally, there were similar routing centers in San Francisco, for soldiers and sailors in the Pacific, Seattle (Alaska), New Orleans and Miami (the Caribbean), and even Portland, Maine, for sailors guarding convoys in the North Atlantic.
The volume of mail eventually grew so huge that the post office in Manhattan could no longer handle it, and they built a sorting facility on Long Island called the Postal Concentration Center. I think it’s long gone, but the same type of system is still in use, and the old APO numbers have been merged into the modern ZIP Code system.
Today if you wanted to mail a letter to a solder in Afghanistan, you would address it, for example, “APO AE [Armed Forces Europe/Middle East] 09312,” and a postal sorting clerk would know to route the letter to McGuire Air Force Base in New Jersey, where it would be turned over to the Air Force to be flown to Afghanistan.
His letter coming back would come into McGuire and there be turned over to the Postal Service for delivery.
'Post Office, New York, N.Y.' by Albert Goldman
There is a book that outlines some of this history, titled simply Post Office, New York, N.Y., by Albert Goldman, who was the postmaster in New York during the war. Of course it concentrates mostly on what was going on in New York rather than overseas.
If the original envelopes from your uncle’s correspondence were still there, you could see a lot of this history on them, but unfortunately some families throw the envelopes away. Our organization is usually more interested in the envelopes and postal markings than the contents of the letters, if they are still there.
Mailing envelopes from overseas would also show a censorship marking, for as you have discovered, mail was censored. You gave your letter, unsealed, to the censor, usually one of the officers in the unit, and he would read it first to make sure you weren’t sending any classified information. He would then seal the letter, add the censorship stamp, and give it to the postal clerk for postmarking and forwarding.
January 24 2012
Babe’s First Letter from Overseas: Grapes and Swimming N. Africa
The header of Babe's first letter from overseas, but the date doesn't fit the timeline.
The dating of this letter is confusing, and I try to address it in a separate post. It is postmarked July 25, 1943, so that’s the date I’m using as the most reliable.
Dear Mom and Pop,
As you can see, I’ve changed my address again. I’m still feeling fine and I hope you are too.
I saw more grape vines here in North Africa than I’ve seen in all the rest of my life. The grapes grow on little plants about 2 feet tall. I don’t know whether the plants grown into vines or not, but I don’t think so. There are fields and still more fields of these grapes, all over North Africa.
There’s not much more I can say, but I’ll try.
I’m still with the whole gang from my basic training camp and I’m glad we didn’t get separated.
We had a couple of real good meals here and it surprised me.
We can go swimming here every night if we want to.
That’s all folks.
L&K.
So-long,
Babe
PDF: Babe’s first letter from overseas, in North Africa
January 23 2012
I Can’t Figure Out Where Babe’s Next Letter Fits in the Timeline
As I wrote a few days ago, I tried to piece together the timeline after Babe left Camp Wheeler and it led me to the conclusion that his letter dated July 7, 1943, was the last one he wrote stateside. Everything after that must be from overseas.
That’s supported by a letter from the War Department to my grandmother in 1946, which noted that Babe left the United States on July 14, 1943, and arrived in North Africa seven days later.
The dates associated with Babe’s next letter are bothering me. It definitely appears to be the next letter. He opens the letter by saying, “As you can see, I’ve changed my address again.”
His July 7 letter included a return address of A.P.O. 8962, c/o Postmaster, New York, N.Y. The next letter has a return address of A.P.O. 776, c/o Postmaster, New York, N.Y.
The postmark on the next letter also fits the timeline. It is postmarked July 25, 1943. But above the salutation, Babe heads the letter with this: “Somewhere in North Africa, June 30, 1943.”
If that date is right, he wrote this letter before the last one I transcribed. But that doesn’t make sense, because the return address hadn’t changed. And we have no reason to think he was already in Northern Africa when he wrote that July 7 letter. The army, in fact, says he hadn’t left the country yet.
It’s also the first letter on which he includes “U.S.A.” on the envelope.
If Babe meant to write “July 30, 1943″ as the date on that letter, that wouldn’t make sense either, because the postmark is earlier: July 25.
So, I’m just mystified.
January 22 2012
Your Mail Isn’t Censored, But Don’t Write Anything You Want
USO Logo on the back of this envelope
Dated July 7, 1943; no postmark. Censored.
Dear Folks,
I have time to for a quick letter today so I’ll write it now. I received Vince’s letter today and I’m still here.
I hope you get a lot of grapes this year. Are the Jap beetles bothering them much?
Pop is working my graveyard shift now, is he? Well, I’ll bet he says it’s the best shift. At least, I thought it was the best.
You ought to have a chicken dinner one of these days, shouldn’t you? I understand the chickens are laying eggs already. I hope they keep up the good work.
Your mail isn’t censored at all, but that doesn’t mean you can write anything you want to. If someone wants to read my mail, they might get the bright idea to read yours too, just when you write something interesting.
(Unreadable. Zers?) is here, I think. Joe Cundari told me he saw him the other day, but I haven’t seen him yet. I suppose I’ll run into him one of these days, though.
That’s all folks.
So-long,
Babe
PDF: Your Mail Isn’t Censored, but Don’t Write Anything You Want
January 21 2012
July Fourth; Air Scouts for Brother Bob; Seeking Pictures from Home
Babe didn't get to leave camp for the Fourth of July in 1943, just before leaving the United States.
Dated July 4, 1943; no postmark. Censored.
Dear Mom and Pop,
I was glad to receive your letter today and I’m happy to hear that mom is better.
Everything is pretty dead around here now. I guess it’s because we’ve been here so long that the place is too familiar to us now.
By the by, Joe C. was back yesterday and he says the place looks good again. I don’t suppose anything will happen to him though.
So Bib is an Air Scout now, huh? I’ll bet he’d make a fine looking cadet.
I don’t have any pictures of you all so send me some as soon as you can because I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here. And don’t forget a picture of Rosemarie.
I have a nice detail today, sweeping out empty barracks. We played checkers all morning but nobody said anything. We have to go back this afternoon and play some more.
Two more of the boys who went home for the Fourth of July just came back raving about the good time they had, dodging M.P.’s.
The Peter X-ray (P.X.) is just about to open so I think I’ll dash over there and get myself some nourishment for the afternoon.
I’ll close now until next time.
L&K.
So-long,
Babe
PDF: July Fourth, seeking pictures from home and pining for Camp Upton
January 19 2012
‘I Don’t Think I’d Ever Like Being a Civilian Again’
I think, based on this letter, Babe might have been a Dodgers fan. They did fine against the Giants (but my Cardinals had a record year). (From Wikipedia)
Dated June 26, 1943; no postmarked. Censored.
Dear Ma and Pa,
I received your letters today and I was happy to get them.
Vince seems to think it’s getting hot (CENSORED), but he doesn’t know what real heat is. It was so hot at my first camp that we were in the barracks one day and we saw the thermometer break. The thermometer went up to 100° and it was in the shade when it broke.
Speaking about that cyst that Val had, one of the boys from my platoon at the training camp had one of those and he was in the hospital for six weeks. As a matter of fact, when we all shipped out of that camp, we left him in the hospital. I think he is home on a medical furlough now.
I’ve seen enough of the army now, so I wish I could get into the navy. I like the army, but I want something different now. Probably after 4 months in the navy, I’d want the marines, then the Coast Guard. I don’t think I’d ever like being a civilian again.
I was reading in the “News” about how the Dodgers took the Giants the other day. They sure throw those poor Giants around, don’t they?
I’d like to know how many times I have to tell you that I can’t take any pictures? I can’t even get near to town. The closest I can get to stepping out of this camp is to stand by the M.P. gate and talk to the M.P. and I can’t even do that very long.
You better not send me the “Times” because the mail here is terrible and if I got it at all, it would probably get all ripped up. One of the fellows here wrote about six letters home and his mother and father haven’t gotten a one yet. He just lives in (CENSORED) too. They all wrote to him and they think he is in Panama or some other place like that because none of his letters ever got home.
Nothing more to say.
So-long, L&K,
Babe
PDF: I don’t think I’d ever like being a civilian again
January 18 2012
Cold Water at Chow Time; ‘Stage Door Canteen’ Isn’t the Army
Babe saw this picture, he writes in this letter.
Dated June 24; there is no year and no postmark, but the envelope and the stationery fit the sequence of the letters before and after, so I presume it’s from 1943.
Dear Ma and Pa,
I got Vince’s letter yesterday and it was good hearing from him. I hope he does go by next month because it must be pretty bad hanging around such a dead place as Kisco.
We had a specialty for chow the other day: Cold water. It was the first time I had even cool water since I was in my last camp. The drinking water here is warm and all I do is drink all day because one drink will only satisfy me for only a half hour.
We saw a U.S.O. show last night at one of the Service Clubs and it was pretty good. They had a magician there, a woman, and she pulled some slick tricks. We also saw the picture “Stage Door Canteen” it was a good picture, but it’s not the army. If you see that picture, don’t think the army is anything ilke the way they showed it to be in that picture.
I am glad to hear that Bib is now a junior in high school. I guess that puts him in the upper brackets. He better learn something before he gets out of school, too. If he gets in the army after he graduates, he is going to have a lot of opportunities thrown at him and if he is on the ball he will be able to get someplace.
That’s all folks, so I’ll sign off now until next time.
L&K.
So-long,
Babe
PDF: Cold Water at Chow, and ‘Stage Door Canteen’ Isn’t the Army
January 17 2012
‘A Soldiers’ Haven for Rest’: Ice Cream, Candy, Soda and Sleep
Written on the envelope of this letter.
Dated June 19, 1943; no postmark.
Dear Folks,
I received your letter today and I was certainly glad to hear from you.
You want me to get a pass out of here, but suppose I told you I can’t even take one step out of this camp? I tried to get a pass today to go to town, but I couldn’t get it. The passes are only good between 5:00 p.m. and 8 a.m. and we can’t get week-end or three-day passes from here. If I do get a pass, I will have some pictures taken in town.
I met two more Mt. Kisco fellows here today. One of them is Phillip, the guy who used to board with Camberraire and the other fellow is one I went to school with, Gordon Ferguson. Phillip is in the field artillery and Ferguson is in the armored force. I was plenty surprised to meet both of them here.
We just scrubbed the floor here for the first time since leaving Wheeler. This place is a soldiers’ haven for rest. I haven’t done anything but eat ice cream and candy and drink soda and sleep since I’ve been here. Furthermore, I like it a lot here.
I think I’ll close now because I have a hundred and one articles of clothing to wash and I want to do them before it gets dark.
L&K,
So-long,
Babe
PDF: ‘A Soldiers’ Haven for Rest’: Ice Cream, Candy, Soda and Sleep
January 16 2012
UPDATE: New Information on Babe’s Departure Point from the U.S.
A. Camp Wheeler (Macon, Ga.); B. Transfer, Pa. (Shenango Personnel Replacement Depot); C. Newport News, Va.
A few days ago, I tried to piece together the places Babe went between basic training in Camp Wheeler, Ga., and departing for North Africa. I speculated that his last stop was Camp Shanks in New York, based on reports I’d seen indicating that camp was a popular port of departure for soldiers headed to Europe and North Africa.
I said it was a guess when I wrote it. But now I know I was wrong. Since posting that item, I’ve gotten new information. Babe went from Pennsylvania to the naval station at Newport News, Va., then on a seven-day voyage to Casablanca. Here’s how I learned that new tidbit.
In a few more letters, after he arrives in North Africa, Babe will tell his parents, “I met Joe Pasquale, Lugi Conte and Steve, who ran the garage across the street, on the boat coming over. I was never so surprised in my life as when I saw them.”
The Conte name was familiar to me. As a kid, we’d always visit Conte’s Fish Market in Mount Kisco for clams on the half shell. I didn’t know anyone in the family personally, but my uncles Bob and Vince (Babe’s brothers), my grandmother Florence and my mother knew them.
So I emailed Rob Conte at Conte’s Fish Market. That led me to Pia and Luca Edward Conte, siblings whose father, Luca George Conte, was on board the boat with Babe. Luca George went by the nickname “Lugi,” according to his daughter Pia.
The son, Luca Edward, now of Louisville, Ky., also sent a summary of his father’s service that noted some key facts: He also left the United States on July 14, 1943, and arrived in North Africa on July 21, 1943, just like Babe, corroborating Babe’s comment that he met Lugi “on the boat coming over.” Based on Lugi’s recollection, in the document his son sent me, they left from Newport News, Va., and arrived in Casablanca.
I love how these pieces fall into place as you triangulate new information. And I’m grateful for the response from Pia and Luca Conte. I’ll be eager to share more information on their father in later posts.
January 14 2012
‘We Had Pullmans and I Never Rode a Better Train’
The image on top of the stationery Babe used on this letter.
Dated June 1943; no postmark. It is unclear to me where this letter falls in the sequence. He references a card that he sent from Shenango, Penn., but I don’t have that. It’s possible that between his last letter on June 4 and this one that he wrote that card, but no other letters because he was on trains for a bit of the time. He may have only been at Shenango for a short time; this letter notes that he took the train from Camp Wheeler to Shenango, but that he took another train “here,” wherever “here” is. I speculated that it was Camp Shanks in New York.
Dear Ma, Pa, brothers and sister,
I don’t know how to start this letter except to tell you I am feeling fine and hope you are the same. As you can probably see by the envelope, this letter has been censored and you know what that means. I can’t even tell you what state I’m in, let alone the camp.
There is practically nothing to write about anymore now. All I can say is hello and goodbye.
Don’t try to send me any packages or anything like that because they won’t get here I don’t think. You don’t have to write to me by V-mail yet though.
I suppose you got the card I sent you from Shenango, Penn., already telling you my new address so I won’t have to tell you again.
I had a good ride from Camp Wheeler to Shenango. We had Pullmans and I never rode a better train. The first night, though, I left the windows open next to my berth and the next morning, when I woke up, I was sleeping on a bed of coal dust. From Shenango to here, we came in ordinary day coaches and we all got so dirty that two showers didn’t get me clean.
I’ll sign off now with L&K,
S0-long,
Babe
PDF: Censored letter; referencing trip from Shenango
January 13 2012
Piecing Together Babe’s Last Stops Before He Went to North Africa
Wooden bunkhouses at the Shenango Personnel Replacement Depot. Courtesy of Camp Reynolds and ACW Productions.
Babe’s last letter appears to be his last from basic training at Camp Wheeler, where thousands of young men were prepared as replacements for troops overseas. In that letter, he writes that he expected “to be out of here in two or three days.” He wrote that letter on June 4, 1943.
The next few letters are from his next two stops before he went overseas himself, to North Africa. But the letters themselves are opaque about his whereabouts. They have no postmark, they are censored, and he’s apparently not allowed to write about where he went.
Only later — in a letter from the War Department to my grandmother on Oct. 8, 1946 — did she learn that her son left Camp Wheeler for training in Transfer, Pa. That’s the location of what was called the Shenango Personnel Replacement Depot. The site was also known as Camp Reynolds, according to one Pennsylvania history site:
Needing a central camp for replacement soldiers heading for Europe, the federal government chose the site because of the proximity of two major railroads, and purchased thirty-five farms totaling more than 3,300 acres. An army of civilian workers then descended on the site and began erecting wooden barracks, headquarters, hospitals, warehouses, and other related structures. Designed to last only three years, the buildings housed more than a million soldiers en route to East Coast ports; most troops were at the camp for a week or less.
Based on accounts I’ve read from servicemen elsewhere, I presume Babe left Shenango for Camp Shanks in Orangeburg, N.Y. That appears to be one port of departure for soldiers shipped across the ocean.
According to its museum website, Camp Shanks was…
…the largest point of embarkation for soldiers headed for the front lines in North Africa and Europe during World War II, including the landing forces for the D-Day invasion. Opened in 1942, Camp Shanks contained 1,500 barracks, mess halls, theaters, a hospital, and other buildings where some 1.5 million G.I.s (approximately 40,000 a month) were issued combat equipment and underwent final inspections before shipping overseas. Most soldiers spent eight to 12 days at the self supporting complex dubbed “Last Stop, U.S.A.”
A. Macon, Ga., Camp Wheeler; B. Transfer, Pa.; C. Orangeburg, N.Y.
But the truth is, I have no idea where Babe set sail. Babe’s last stateside letter appears to have been written on July 7, 1943, as you will see. The War Department letter to my grandmother says Babe left the United States on July 14, 1943, and arrived in North Africa seven days later. He never got a pass to visit home before going overseas, so the last time he saw his family, I presume, was the day he reported for duty on Feb. 26, 1943.
We can guesstimate that he spent his last 38 days in the United States riding trains between Camp Wheeler and Transfer, Pa.; riding trains from Transfer to his port of departure; and biding his time at two camps in between. It was light duty, apparently. In a letter he writes on June 19, 1943, he says “this place is a soldiers’ haven for rest.” That was nearly a month before he sailed for North Africa, so I’m guessing he wrote those words from Shenango.
Babe narrowly missed being present for some national news at the Shenango Personnel Replacement Depot. On July 11, three days before Babe left the country, a race riot of some sort occurred at the camp that resulted in the death of one black soldier and left six others wounded. According to an early Associated Press account in the Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph:
One Negro soldier was killed and six others were wounded in an encounter between white and Negro soldiers at Camp Shenango last night, the Army press relations office announced today. A statement said: ”Friction between white and colored troops which developed at Shenango Personnel Replacement Depot Sunday evening resulted in the death of one colored soldier and the wounding of six others. All the men are being treated at the station hospital.”
The article placed the blame at the time at the feet of the black soldiers, but noted that a board of inquiry had been appointed. The article used words such as “row” and “encounter.” Later accounts refer to it as a “riot,” and it was apparently not the only one during that period as black and white soldiers confronted the inequities between them based on their race. I may try to explore this topic in more detail later.
January 12 2012
Biding His Time; Expecting to Be Shipped Out Soon
An old Camp Wheeler postcard.
Dated June 4, 1943; postmarked the same day from Camp Wheeler.
Dear Mom and Pop,
We all had a hard week last week and now we are sort of resting up until we ship out. Do not write to me any more until you hear from me again. You may not get any news from me for quite awhile, so don’t worry. If Aunt Mary hasn’t already sent the package, tell her not to until I get to my next camp.
Last Monday, we went on one of the twenty-four hour problems. We went out about six miles and set up our C.P.’s. That night, we didn’t do any advancing or retreating, but we stayed in the same C.P. all night. We got back about 4:00 Tuesday morning and ate breakfast. We got to bed at 5:30 and got up at 8:00 so we got 2 and ½ hours sleep out of 36 hours. Then we had the day off Tuesday, but as I just told you, we all got up at 8:00 and scrubbed barracks. We got about 4 hours sleep that night.
At 8:00 Wednesday morning, we went on another twenty-four hour problem. This time, instead of remaining stationary, the C.P.’s advanced three times, about 1 mile each time. We did a good job on that problem and we got in at 3:00 Thursday morning only to find that twenty out of the platoon had to scrub floors at the radio school and message center buildings for not having shoes shined. That topped off everything.
The sergeant and corporals were so mad that they didn’t care if they had their stripes taken away from them. One of the corporals, about 45 years old who saw action in the last war, was actually crying because we got two days off and we had to work both days. They said that out of 18 months here, they never saw a platoon treated the way we were treated and they were darn sore.
Well, we do nothing but loaf around now listening to lectures and stuff. I expect to be out of here in two or three days.
I just got a letter from Rolfe Tarts at mail call. He said Louis Varco is going to get a discharge because of his asthma.
Well, I’ll be closing now. Time to fall out. So-long,
Babe
PDF: Expecting to be shipped out of Camp Wheeler any day
January 11 2012
‘The First Time I Ever Got Chicken, Tomatoes or Pie From the Army’
Dated May 29, 1943; postmarked May 31 from Camp Wheeler.
Dear People,
I got your letters today and I was glad to hear from you.
Today is Sunday, as usual, so I’m doing nothing but loaf all day today.
Tomorrow we go on an all-day and all-night problem. That will be the first time I will go out with the rest of the boys in a week. All last week, I stayed here in camp while the rest of the men, with the exception of two who stayed with me, went out three or four miles to set up C.P.X.‘s. Two days out of the week, those two fellows and I stayed here to operate a radio and keep in contact with our company.
The other two days, the other fellows and I worked with a colonel. He needed three radio operators with him to set up targets on an overhead firing problem. He had to have two radios with him and one radio had to go out about 800 yards to set up the targets. Then, if the colonel wasn’t satisfied with the way the targets were fixed, he could radio them and tell the men which way to move them.We had a lot of fun out there and we didn’t do anything.
After our problem tomorrow, I guess we will hand all our equipment in preparatory to shipping out. I don’t know where we are going from here, but I hope I go to either Fort Benning, Georgia, or Fort Monmouth, New Jersey. Fort Benning is a communication school and if I got there, I ought to get a pretty good rating when I get out. As you probably know, Fort Monmouth is the Signal Corps and I don’t have to say anything about that. These are just pipe dreams, of course, but I’d like to go to one of those places anyway.
Papa — thanks a lot, it sure came in handy, but I would have had some tomorrow anyhow. Tomorrow is payday, by the by.
I think I told you before that I didn’t see Bob Hope’s show last Tuesday because we were on a night problem then.
How do you like the envelope this letter came in? That was my buddy’s idea. He comes from Jamaica, N.Y., and he is a heck of a nice guy. He doesn’t drink either and that is one of the main reasons why I pal around with him.
I also got that letter from Joe Giardina and he says he will come to see me, but when he does, I don’t think I will be here. I am going to write to him and tell him not to look for me.
Yesterday, I had my last K.P. here, I hope. I had K.P. at the officers’ mess and boy, did I eat. All the chicken, milk, fresh tomatoes and jelly, butter and bread and pie I wanted. That was the first time I ever got chicken, tomatoes or pie from the Army.
Well, I’ll say so-long now.
L&K,
Babe
PDF: About pay, hopes for next post and food at the officers’ mess
January 09 2012
Another Puzzling Reference to a Celebrity; This Time, Bob Hope
Bob Hope performing at Georgia State University in 1943 (courtesy Georgia State University Library).
A couple of interesting veins I wanted to tap while blogging about Babe’s letters so far have turned into dead-ends.
First, there was the oblique reference to Jack Benny’s broadcast scribbled on the outside of the envelope of his May 5, 1943, letter to his parents. It seemed to have some significance to him and he wanted to make sure his parents found someone who heard the broadcast. But if it’s more than an inside joke, I can’t figure it out.
Now, there’s a letter to his brother Bob (whom he called Bib) that says, “Bob Hope and his gang were here last night, but we couldn’t see him and, although I tried, I couldn’t pick him up over my radio. We stayed out until 11:30 last night. Did you hear his broadcast?”
Babe dated that letter May 26, 1943. He was based at Camp Wheeler, near Macon, Ga. So when he says “Bob Hope was here last night,” wouldn’t you think that on the evening of May 25, 1943, the comedian would have been somewhere in Georgia?
Well, he wasn’t. He was nowhere near Georgia.
According to multiple accounts online, including a snatch of video on YouTube, Bob Hope was doing a show at the Stockton Air Field in California for a large group of Army Air Corps cadets. The show included a bit with his brother George, a staff sergeant at the base.
“Remember, George, you’re my brother,” Hope said at one point in the routine. “My success is your success. Anything you need, name it. You can have anything under the sun.”
“How about 5?”
“Cloudy day, isn’t it?” the comedian deadpanned.
In fact, Bob Hope did perform at Camp Wheeler, but more than a year after Babe sent the letter. He did a show broadcast on Oct. 18, 1944. According to the intro of the broadcast, ”The Bob Hope program with Frances Langford and Jerry Colonna, in a special rebroadcast scheduled expressly at this hour for the fighting men of the united nations by the special service division of the War Department of the United States.”
That suggests the show was taped at another time, but I don’t have any idea when. Hope makes reference to spending a couple of weeks in Atlanta and to the looming start of cotton-picking season, which would have started around September and been in its peek in October.
So this is not likely the broadcast Babe was referring to, is it? So what the hell was he talking about?
January 08 2012
Note to Brother Bob about Bob Hope, Training, News Back Home
Babe's doodles on his May 26, 1943, letter to his brother Bob.
Dated May 26, 1943; postmarked the same day from Camp Wheeler.
Dear Bib,
My training here is drawing to a close and I’m still feeling fine. I hope you all are feeling good too.
Boy, it rained cats and dogs here for a couple of days and we were out all day both of those days. We were out in the field setting up radio nets and communicating with each other. I didn’t go out with the boys, though. Instead, I stayed at the radio school with my radio and kept dry. It was a lot of fun and I’m glad we will do that every day for our remaining week and a half here.
Bob Hope and his gang were here last night, but we couldn’t see him and, although I tried, I couldn’t pick him up over my radio. We stayed out until 11:30 last night. Did you hear his broadcast?
We have until 1:30 today off so I’m loafing around writing letters.
Our sergeant just came around with a list of names for us to sign. It is for the cigarettes we were supposed to get for firing on the range. I am supposed to get a half-carton this morning.
We have four more hours of code today and I hope to pass sixteen words a minute today. Sixteen words a minute may not sound fast to you, but you ought to turn on the radio home to short wave and listen to some code for a little while. It usually comes over at about 14 or 15 words a minute.
Right now, everybody is either cleaning their rifle or washing clothes. We can’t send any more clothes to the laundry because we’re so near to the end of our stay here, so we have to do our own laundry.
Bib, I don’t know if I told you before or not, but send me The Lantern every week. I’d like to know a little of what’s going on back home from other sources besides your letters.
How do you like the envelope this letter came in? I made up about ten different drawings on the envelopes.
Next week, we go on our twenty-four and thirty-six hour problems and I think we will all enjoy those. We get soaking wet here, slop around in the mud, get sand in our drinking water, fall in brooks and get our rifles rusty and filthy, but when we get back to the barracks, we pass it on as just a lot of fun. The morale here is about as high as it could be.
Well it’s time to scrub floors again, so I’ll close now.
Your loving frater,
Babe
PDF: Bob Hope came to perform, but Babe Didn’t Get to See Him
January 07 2012
Raving About the New Pen-and-Pencil Set; Money Woes
Dated May 21, 1943; postmarked the same day from Camp Wheeler.
Dear Mom and Pop,
I received your package this morning and boy, was I glad to get it. This pen and pencil set is something and I won’t be able to thank you enough for it. Right now, I am showing it off to the whole platoon and they are gasping at it speechless. As I say, it’s the style that counts. I am using the pen to write this letter and let me tell you, it’s the best pen I ever saw. Once more, thanks a million times and I’ll take good care of it.
You wanted to know about the money situation so I’ll tell you. I didn’t send you any money the first month, but I sent you fifty dollars last month, $25 from each month. I also sent you the receipts for War Bonds and insurance they are taking out of my pay and I would like to know if you got them.
I did write to Nano (note: I can’t make out this name) in Brooklyn a couple of weeks ago. My personal belief is that half of my letters never reach their destination.
I can’t have my pictures taken until you send me the money because I have no money. Out of $50, I get no more than $5 for myself a month and if you don’t believe it, I’ll send you a list of all my deductions in the future. That is also the reason I didn’t send any Mother’s Day card. I only had a quarter then and I had to take my pants out of the cleaners. I didn’t want to tell you this, but you kept asking me about the same things every time, so here it is.
Right now, I have clothes in the cleaners and I can’t get them out until our captain gives my squad the $30 we won shooting on the range. Thirty dollars would mean about $2.15 apiece, which would help me a lot. Besides, before this, I took somebody’s guard duty for three dollars, but after I took my clothes out of the cleaners, got a haircut, bought some razor blades and other shaving equipment, and blew myself to a soda, the money was all gone. I’m sorry to have to write you this, but you asked for it.
If you don’t mind, don’t let Bib read this letter, if he hasn’t already.
I may as well close now because I can’t write anymore anyway.
Love and kisses,
Babe
P.S. When are you all going to send me your pictures?
PDF: About the pen-and-pencil set and money woes
January 06 2012
An Encounter, Apparently, with Another Buddy from Back Home
From Babe's Camp Wheeler stationery.
Dated May 16, 1943; postmarked May 17 from Camp Wheeler.
Dear Folks,
Today is Sunday and I am on the alert with nothing to do, so I was laying on my bed. All of a sudden, I heard someone say “is there a fellow here by the name of Frank Mauro?” I looked up and lo and behold, there stood Frank Lattanzi. We, he and I had a long conversation, which ended about five minutes ago.
I am writing this letter right now so I won’t forget about that little matter. He mentioned in his speech that Rocy Roe is now stationed somewhere in Ohio. Frank himself will be shipped out of here by Saturday of this week. I expect to be in another camp myself in three weeks.
I guess we will be having a hard week this week with a twenty-mile all-nite hike coming up Wednesday. I can just picture myself now barely able to walk and just coming down the homestretch which is the last six miles always.
This was mean to be nothing more than a short notice, so I’ll close it now.
So-long,
Babe
PDF: An encounter with another hometown buddy
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Getting to Know Babe’s Whereabouts When He Landed in North Africa
For example, I’ve noticed that in Babe’s first few letters from North Africa, his return address changes three times. The first two may be the same, but rendered differently, but he moves from the “2nd Replacement Depot” to the “1st Replacement Depot” from one letter to the next.
A “replacement depot” was apparently a holding tank, essentially, for soldiers who came overseas and before they were assigned to a permanent unit. They were literally what they sound like: A holding depot for replacement soldiers. They were to replace the soldiers who were killed, captured or wounded.
One article on the subject of replacement depots doesn’t paint them in a very favorable light, calling the troops staged there “military orphans with little esprit de corps and no cohesion.”
In Babe’s case, I feel fairly comfortable that I know his first stops once he left the United States. If you recall an earlier post referencing Luca Conte, it’s clear that Babe landed in North Africa at Casablanca, Morocco. Luca Conte told his family that’s where he landed, and he came over on the same boat as Babe. Additionally, we know that Babe’s first letter from overseas used APO 776 as his return address, and we know that on the day Babe arrived in North Africa, July 21, 1943, APO 776 was in Casablanca.
I don’t know how long Babe was in Casablanca, but it is likely his next stop was Oran, Algeria, for at least four reasons.
First Luca Conte told his son that he was flown from Casablanca to Oran; Lugi served in the Fifth Army. So, ultimately, did Babe (based on the Fifth Army patch I have).
Second, Babe’s letters make reference to the French currency I presume would have been around in French Algeria at the time. Still, that’s probably a large swath of property, so it’s hard to know more specifically.
Fourth, one of Babe’s letters refers to “a terrific battle” staged on the site of his camp: “There are a few men here who fought right here in North Africa. As a matter of fact, there was a terrific battle staged right at the location of this camp. We can still see the scars on the ground.”
Oran was one of three beachheads for “Operation Torch,” when Allied Forced commanded by Gen. Dwight Eisenhower opened a southern front against the Axis in North Africa by overrunning Vichy French forces, capturing the position on Nov. 10, 1942. That was about eight months before Babe set foot in North Africa.
Was this the “terrific battle” of which Babe was speaking?