War Letters: Eleanor, My Darling--a Memoir of WWII

Chapter. Introduction

Historians, sociologists, and writers of fiction have recorded many accounts of World War II.

War Letters is another such account.

It is the story about Mama and Papa and World War II based upon Papa's reminiscence, and upon the hundreds of forgotten wartime letters discovered by the children while rummaging through the attic.

Papa, the children ask. What was the war really like?

Edward V. Graef

Chapter. The Way Papa Remembers It . . .

The War brought Mama and Papa together the week before Christmas, 1942. It happened at Camp Shelby, Mississippi.

Mama--a young and beautiful social worker from Columbus, Ohio--had arrived at the Army base a few days before on her first wartime assignment for the American Red Cross.

Papa--hailing from New York City--was a squad corporal in a rifle company, and had also arrived a few days before, fresh out of Officers' Candidate School, and was on his first assignment as a 2nd Lieutenant with the 155th Infantry, part of the 31st (Dixie) Division.

On the evening of their meeting, Papa was waiting in the lobby of the Nurses' Quarters where the new officers had been told they might get dates for the Infantry officers' dance when he saw Mama and some other Red Cross girls and nurses coming down the stairs.

All the officers got up and waited for someone to perform the introductions.

But Papa didn't wait.

He walked right past the first six girls to where Mama was standing on the landing, took her by the arm, and led her out.

Seven weeks later, on February 6, 1943, close family and friends gathered at the Main Street Methodist Church in Hattiesburg, Mississippi.

Eleanor and Ed became husband and wife.

An all-too-brief brief honeymoon followed, at the Hotel Markham in Gulfport, Mississippi.

A top priority was for Mama to become pregnant before Papa was shipped out . . .

Chapter 1

Young people felt differently about the war in those days. Expressions such as Hell, no! I won't go! were rarely heard. When it came time for the regiment to leave Camp Shelby, Mississippi, Mama squeezed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich into Papa's combat pack and walked with him to where the trucks were waiting a short distance down the road. They didn't do much talking; what was there to say? The country was at war and Papa had a duty to perform.

I could not love thee, dear, so much . . . Loved I not honor more.

June 9, 1943

Eleanor, my darling,

It was fun sneaking in a quick telephone call from that crossroad grocery and listening to your excited voice saying you had recovered from your miscarriage and we could continue any time we wanted with our efforts to produce a baby.

Oh, my darling, my darling, I love you so much!

We arrived at our first bivouac area at 4:30 this morning after traveling at a snail's pace all night. We are now about twelve miles from Biloxi, Mississippi, where our supply officer swears there are three empty troop ships waiting for us in the harbor.

No one believes him, of course, and yet--

I'll write as soon as we hear something definite.

The mail's going out at 2 pm, and if I hurry, I'll just make it.

Love, Eddie

June 10, 1943

Dear,

The trip to the coast turned out to be nothing more than a routine military exercise (problem) similar to hundreds we had practiced in the 1941 Carolina maneuvers, six months before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.

The problem got off the ground at 0800 with the enemy (the Reds) in retreat, our side (the Blues) in pursuit, and with important-looking umpires following us around, tagging casualties.

(A soldier tagged 'dead' or 'wounded' is supposed to remain out of action until the battle is over.)

At a briefing this morning, the Colonel told us this particular problem was only a warm-up and wouldn't last more than three or four days. Present plans call for us to return to Camp Shelby on the 14th, stay there about a week, and then take off for Louisiana (Camp Polk) where our entire division--the 31st 'Dixie' Division--is scheduled to take part in what they tell us will be the biggest maneuvers of the war.

We were also told our regiment would provide some of the officers who would act as umpires in Louisiana. Just who would get this assignment the Colonel didn't say, but there's no doubt that those who do go will have considerable freedom of movement.

And right now, darling, if our efforts to have a baby are to prove successful, freedom of movement is what we need more than anything else in the world.

Let's keep our fingers crossed. If I'm selected, this could be a very big break.

Love, Eddie

June 11, 1943

Well, my love,

The first phase of the problem is over and we had a snap--Division Reserve!

I know the above means nothing to you, but it meant a vacation for us. We never even got into the fight and by the time they called us up, the problem was over.

After the battle, we went swimming in Black Creek and had a wonderful time. For miles up and down the creek (it's really a river) as far as the eye could see, men by the thousands, nude men, wading. You've never seen such an array, at least I hope not.

Tomorrow we'll have a critique and start a new problem the same afternoon. This time, we won't get out of it so easily.

Love, Eddie

June 12, 1943

Eleanor, my darling,

In your last letter, you asked me to do something spectacular--so I did.

I got two flat tires!

Which explains why we are now parked on this lonely forest trail--thirty miles from where we were supposed to meet the Colonel at 2 pm. It is now 3--with nothing to eat, nothing to drink, not even a chaplain to tell our troubles to.

Slumped in the seat beside me with his hat pulled down over his eyes is my thoroughly disgusted driver who--now that he has put the spare tire on the front wheel and jacked up the rear wheel--is wisely conserving his energy.

I don't think we'll be rescued for a month.

Needless to say, I've taken decisive action. My number one scout being with us, I immediately dispatched him with map and compass to the nearest friendly village, but I know what will happen.

He'll goof off!

And so here we shall remain, my driver and myself, to rot in these Mississippi woods, and little will the world realize how much we had suffered, my darling.

But this I want you to know:

Whether it be daytime, with me thirsty and hot.

Or nighttime, with me hungry and cold.

Whether it be raining, with me shivering and wet.

Or snowing; which hardly ever happens around here.

This, my darling, you can be sure of:

I love you. I'll always love you.

Believe me,

Eddie

June 13, 1943

Dear,

The Mississippi maneuvers are over! They were called off at 3 this afternoon. We return to Camp Shelby tomorrow. Can't wait to see you!

You really took the wind out of my sails in our telephone conversation this morning with your observation that all the potency in the world wouldn't do us any good if we didn't get together at the proper times.

Do you know, darling, I hadn't even thought of that? And here I'm supposed to be such a smart feller!

I think maybe we had better put that subject on the agenda for tomorrow.

Love, Eddie

Chapter 2

For the next six days, until it was time for Papa to leave Camp Shelby, Mama and Papa studied road maps, bus schedules, train schedules, possible meeting places . . .

Louisiana maneuvers awaited . . .

June 21, 1943

USO, Leesville, Louisiana

Darling,

Leesville is a nice little Southern town trying its best to cope with an impossible situation. It has a regular civilian population of two thousand and a visiting soldier population of fifty thousand. The soldiers mill around on the town's main street like cattle.

After we checked in at the umpire bivouac area, we were told by a Major who had just arrived himself and knew no more about our assignment than we did that if we were smart we would go out and have ourselves a good time because this would be the last chance we would get. The Army, he said, had selected us for a job, and as long as he was in charge he was going to see to it, by golly, that the job was done, there would be no fooling around, no sir!

That's why I'm waiting for this telephone call to go through. (Did I mention I was writing this while waiting to get that funny feeling when you said, Hi, there?)

The big clock on the USO wall directly in front of me says 10:22 pm; the USG closes at 11:00. Maybe I'd better have another talk with the telephone operator.

(later)

I don't think the call is going through and pretty soon they'll throw me out of the USO.

Take a chance and write me at the following address, for the next few days only! Maybe by that time we'll have a mailing address:

c/o General Delivery

Simpson, Louisiana

Love, Eddie

June 22, 1943

Eleanor, my sweet,

Our umpire classes are being held in a closed-for-the-summer little red schoolhouse in Simpson, Louisiana. It's a very nice setup, much better than we expected.

They haven't told us very much this first day, so I still can't say anything about our chances of getting together on June 28th. The only information we've received is the following:

The Louisiana maneuvers will begin officially some day next week and will consist of a series of two or three day problems, followed by a one day or two day break.

Whether umpires will be allowed to take off during these breaks will depend on the unit commanders to whom they are assigned.

In the meantime, we're taking it easy. Our umpire group is bivouacked in the woods five miles north of Simpson to which we go every morning to attend classes. We return to camp for lunch, go back to the Simpson schoolhouse at 2 pm, and return to the woods in the evening.

There's room for maneuvering!

Love, Eddie

June 24, 1943

Dearest,

Your General Delivery letter arrived at the Simpson post office this morning--the first letter from the outside world to reach any member of the umpire group--and I'm really the envy of everyone here.

Why didn't cha tell us, fer cripes sake!--and now everyone is writing his honey, telling her to use General Delivery.

We don't know why, but the only information we've received about the Louisiana maneuvers thus far has been given to us grudgingly. We were told the first problem would begin at 2 am on June 27th but have had no luck in trying to find out how long it would last, how tied down the umpires would be, or anything about our assignments. The last problem, we were told, would end August 22nd.

To make sure nothing goes wrong, I spent a few hours today restudying road maps, bus schedules, and train schedules. Do you know it's approximately three hundred miles from where I am to where you are? I also spent a little time reviewing our plans, especially the 'last resort.'

Darling, there is no question everything is well thought out, brilliantly conceived.

The only thing that can stop us is the Army!

Love, Eddie

June 27, 1943

Damn damn damn! Darling,

I've never been so frustrated! Three important days--tomorrow, Tuesday and Wednesday--and it now looks like they're all going to be wasted!

I raised heaven and hell yesterday in an attempt to get to a phone. I wanted to tell you there was no solution to our problem but for you to come here and meet me in the woods--our last resort!

But maybe it was just as well I couldn't get out of camp. The plan would never have worked. The problem started at 2 o'clock this morning--we've already marched fifteen miles--and I don't even know where we are myself; everybody's lost!

And so, unless a miracle happens, or something not now on the horizon unexpectedly develops, it looks like what is the most important thing in the world to us will have to wait for another month and another opportunity.

I'm so sorry, darling. I'm so very sorry.

Love, Eddie

June 28, 1943

WESTERN UNION TELEGRAM

MRS. ELEANOR M. GRAEF

c/o AMERICAN RED CROSS

STATION HOSPITAL, CAMP SHELBY

HATTIESBURG, MISSISSIPPI

OUT OF THE MANEUVER AREA AND ON MY WAY. TRIED TO PHONE YOU BUT COULDN'T GET THROUGH. LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING YOU 11:00 PM. TONIGHT ROOSEVELT HOTEL NEW ORLEANS. LOVE

EDDIE

Chapter 3

It was a weekend Mama and papa would never forget . . . New Orleans . . . the bridal suite at the Roosevelt Hotel . . . Antoines . . . Gallatoire's . . . the Court of the Seven Sisters.

The time for departure arrived altogether too soon . . .

Louisiana maneuvers continued . . .

July 1, 1943

Eleanor, my darling,

Got back OK from New Orleans; hunted up the umpire group, took my place, and nothing was said.

Everything is going to be all right.

Did you get a seat on the train? I watched you as you walked through the first one, then lost you . . .

You were right about my taking a Bromo Seltzer and then seeing a movie after you left. Fixed me up fine. But I couldn't concentrate on the movie.

Love, Eddie

July 2, 1943

Sweet,

Right in the middle of a problem, and up comes a rainstorm.

So--into the command car, and a letter.

Has anything happened yet? Are there any symptoms?

Me, I'm still thinking about you.

I lie flat on my back in the field looking up at the sky with my hands clasped beneath my head and it happens!

Every time!

I don't know what's the matter with me.

Sometimes I think there is something wrong.

For a wife, after all, is a wife.

And a sweetheart is a sweetheart.

And the twain, so they say, shall never meet.

But who cares what they say.

I love you.

Eddie

July 3, 1943

Dear,

There's a long line waiting to get money orders at Camp Polk so I'll write this standing as I move up an inch at a time.

Last night was the first night in a long time that I had a full night's sleep. And I feel pretty good.

In regard to your possible condition, darling, don't do anything to exert yourself. Take everything easy. Read a book. Read lots of books.

I'm enclosing a bus schedule just in case I can get away during the next big break.

Love, Eddie

July 5, 1943

Dear,

We won't get back to camp till late tonight which means this letter probably won't get to the post office until tomorrow night which means you'll get it God only knows when unless the chaplain comes to my assistance, and he's a nice feller.

I haven't even been able to get your mail! The last letter I got was where your itch was gone.

Here at camp, the problems have started early, ended late, and no one has been able to go to the post office in Simpson.

And now listen to this!

The latest rumor on the big break I told you about is that there isn't going to be a break. The time (so the story goes) will be spent in moving to new positions and in lectures to the troops.

Frankly, I don't believe it.

Love, Eddie

July 6, 1943

Sweet,

Two letters from you today--the Friday and Saturday ones.

Did you get my money orders?

The first phase of the maneuvers ends tomorrow and we'll then be assigned to the new companies we will umpire. It is now definite there will be a three day break.

In case you're following us on the map, the area where we will be initially will be in the vicinity of Many, Louisiana, a little village north of Leesville, and even further away from you than I am now.

As soon as the problem ends tomorrow, all the umpires will receive instructions to report to the new problem area and to get there in time for the next problem. I plan to get there by way of Camp Shelby--perfectly legitimate!

Love, Eddie

Chapter 4

Rooms in Hattiesburg, Mississippi were hard to find, but Mama and Papa were lucky. A sweet old lady selling newspapers in a hotel lobby told them where they could rent a storage room behind a gasoline service station . . .

Louisiana maneuvers continued . . .

July 11, 1943

Eleanor, my darling,

It was a close call, but I got back right on time, joined the unit I was supposed to umpire, moved out with them to a bivouac area fifty miles from nowhere, and am now waiting for the problem to begin. Everything is OK now, but it looked for a while like I (and the other soldiers who went to Hattiesburg) might all be AWOL. This is what happened.

When we got to Jackson, we immediately went to the Hotel Robert E. Lee where our Fourth Lieutenant was stopping, and discovered that our drivers hadn't showed up. Which put us in a pretty pickle. A quick telephone call to the bus terminal revealed the comforting information we could get a bus at 9:55 pm, arriving in Alexandria at 5:30 am. From there, it was only sixty miles to Camp Polk, but no bus would get us to our units in time. We decided to leave off worrying about the last sixty miles until after we reached Alexandria.

To make a long story short, we arrived in Alexandria in the wee hours of the morning and persuaded a patriotic taxi driver to take us to Camp Polk--for which little ride we mortgaged everything but our souls.

Have I mentioned yet that I love you?

And so here we are, still in good standing--even Arnold. He told me that with a little more encouragement from us that night at Landrey's restaurant, he and his honey might possibly have gotten married.

Love, Eddie

July 12 1943

Sweet,

The troops have stopped and have plopped down and I thought it was going to be a ten minute break but the ten minutes have come and gone, and now neither I nor anyone else knows what it's all about.

So this letter.

The war is really on in earnest. They started the problem with a twenty mile hike; that is, we marched twenty miles up to this point--and may march twenty miles more before we meet the enemy.

All of which is very interesting--but what I want to know is this:

Are you?

Or are you not?

But I see the troops are getting up; they're adjusting their equipment; and in a moment, a blustering sergeant will bellow, Let's GO! (He did.)

Can you answer a very simple question? Why do I love you?

Beats me!

Eddie

July 14, 1943

USO Leesville

Sweetheart,

This is a quick one. I sneaked onto a regimental truck and am now at the USO waiting for my telephone call to go through--and for the boys in Company 'C' to remove the accumulation of dirt gathered during the short maneuver. The showers here are a godsend.

And of course my fingers are crossed. They were crossed before I tried to reach you on the phone and now, to make doubly sure, I've put a knot in them. (Golly, I hope this call goes through!)

But it's not, damn it! Here are the boys and the driver and I have to leave. Gah damn!

Eddie

P.S. Address mail to Company 'C', 88th Division APO 88

July 15, 1943

My dearest little wife,

Why I put little in the above, I don't know.

Maybe it's because 'little' has such a pleasant sound. Whenever it is used, we immediately think of someone sweet and loveable and kissable; someone we'd like to take into our arms and hug and whisper sweet nothings to. Someone we'd like to talk with and walk with and eat nice big juicy steaks with. In short, my sweet, someone like you.

Now is it ever so quiet (one of your expressions, darling).

All the boys have taken off--to Leesville, Alexandria, Shreveport--leaving me here alone in the woods, alone with my thoughts of you, my wife.

And as I write, my eyes grow moist, my heart wells up, and I say to myself, Isn't she lovely! Gah-damn these flies!

Love, Eddie

P.S. I'm doing the Captain a favor and holding down the fort.