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This collection consists of 115 letters written by Ellsberg to his wife, Lucy, from May 3, 1944-September 24, 1944. For index GO HERE.
Letter #1 May 3, 1944
Sweetheart:
With love, Ned
May 3, 1944
Sweetheart:
I doubt that I'll be here more than a few days, when I'll probably get a chance to go to the shore. Whether my address will be any different there, I don't know yet. Meanwhile, keep on using the one you have. If the address is different, they'll forward from here.
Incidentally, the navy post office clerk here told me the situation is the same as it was in the old days in the tropics - that no matter what kind of stamps or no stamps are put on the envelope here, it all goes out exactly the same way. He says the service is pretty good, though. You can judge for yourself.
By the way, I sent you a regular rate cable (none of this canned stuff) at noon today. They said it would be delivered in eight hours. What was the result? Practically everything I wanted to say in the cable was barred by the censorship rules, except Much love, Ned
so that's what went.
P.S. I would have sent that cable yesterday if I'd known all the ropes in getting it cleared, which I didn't learn till today.
May 5, 1944
Lucy darling:
The enclosed clippings from this morning's paper, will interest you. This is the Mr. Myers who seven years ago thought it was quite all right for Germany to rearm as a shield against Bolshevism for the rest of Europe. Well, he seems to have survived all the bombings, but now I'll never be able to learn from him whether he still thought he was right. (Well, anyway he made the front page in his death).
I made an official call today on my old chief in the Mediterranean of a year ago. He has gone up in the world since then; however, he greeted me as cordially as ever, complimented me on the improvement in my appearance, and regretted that he seemed to have run out of drydocks for me to work on. I was glad to see the old gentleman (he's all of six years older that I) still looking so hale and hearty with all he must have on his mind. However, he did look a little thinner to me, but certainly cheery and full of punch (not literally).
While I was in that vicinity I also dropped in to see Commander Davy, who was British liason officer with me two years ago in Massawa. Our pleasure at seeing each other again was mutual; he was certainly a great help to me out there. Davy came back from Massawa here a year ago, but apparently the fare available at home hasn't put a single pound on him and he's still very thin. He lives some three miles out from his office, where he says, Mrs. Davy had a tough time on rations for two only in getting very much or any variety. I told him you were having the same difficulty at home. I've invited them both to have inner with me next Monday night at the American Senior Officers' Club, which seems to be doing better than average of any of the hotels here in providing a square meal.
I never did think much of English cooking, and now, if possible, it has even gone down hill. I haven't been near Simpson's yet, but judging from my luck at other first (?) class hotels so far, a well cooked pidgeon's leg might seem attractive.
Breakfast is still the biggest problem regardless of where I go for it. When oatmeal can be such a delicious dish, why the porridge should everywhere be served as an unpalatable mess I can't understand (and no other cereal seems to be served). No fruit, no eggs (I don't miss them), standard English toast, and (God help us) English coffee that you can't drink black, served with hot double skimmed milk. Quite a combination.
All this is going to be good for me. I just have a hunch I'm going to do some needed reducing without the necessity of hard work to bring it about.
It's very quiet around here at night. If you think Hanford Place is quiet, you should drink in the absolute silence of this spot. And yet I'm only a couple of blocks from Victoria Street, a main thoroughfare.
With love, Ned
P.S. Len Quackenbush will be interested in the news of Myers' death notices enclosed. You might let him know when convenient to you. Mr. Myers seems to have been quite a figure in London.
Encls: 2 obituaries, one dated May 7, 1944 (Ed: this may have been in with letter #4)
May 7, 1944
Lucy darling:
This was Sunday, and with nothing much else to do, I looked the town over, mostly on foot. My respect for the accuracy of newspaper reporters has sunk still lower. The general effect is about what you'd get from taking a look around Manhattan. I personally believe more vacant space exists in Manhattan where buildings have been torn down to make parking spaces and save taxes, than I note here.
When next you get here, we can once again visit the Cheshire Cheese in all its ancient glory, despite newspaper stories that it was washed up. I visited St. Paul's also (it being Sunday) and found it looking unchanged, except that it had been smacked twice with amazingly little damage (though the intentions were undoubtedly of the best) - as I remember it, Lincoln Cathedral had more scaffolding up to repair the ravages of time than were visible in St. Paul's.
Selfridge's is quite as it was, except they've given up the fiction they're so well known they don't need their name on any signs - now they have fixed and permanent name signs on every corner window.
One of the poor lions on Nelson's column has lost a right paw and his left one is badly maimed, but on the whole, I have an idea Herman Goring would feel quite sick at heart to survey his handiwork. The poor fellow tried so hard, too.
The weather is lovely so far as sunshine is concerned, but cold. All heating ceased (such as it may have been) on May 1, so I wear my windbreaker in my room, and regret that I packed my heavy underwear in my baggage to follow. Tomorrow I intend to wear my heavy overcoat.
I still feel that if anyone wants to know what's going on in the world, he'd better read the New York Times. Around here, the papers are just a shade ahead of those in Massawa and that only because they are all in English with no space given to the stories in Italian. Four pages make a standard newspaper.
Censorship restrictions are carefully applied here (as well they should be in this situation) and I'm told that as a consequence, the mails are not as fast as they used to be. This may apply only to the mail going out. Among other security regulations, I note that the keeping of diaries is strictly prohibited and those who had any have been required to destroy them. Inasmuch as I've never kept one in this war, that hasn't bothered me, but I'll bet there were some heartaches among those who had.
I see Vera Brittain is addressing a meeting next week on what to do with Germany - forgiveness, of course. Thomas Mann has an interesting article on the same theme in the May Atlantic. I have an idea he knows more about it.
I am enclosing a couple of clippings from the Times. This is the third day straight there has been one on Mr. Myers. Apparently he was quite a figure in London to get all the space he did, considering the scarcity of newspaper space.
The clipping "Let God Arise" by the Dean of St. Paul's impressed me, particularly since the revered gentleman had a couple of bombs through his own roof, one right on the altar. I feel he expresses the case well, and I earnestly hope the whole meaning of the battle cry Monty has revived will sink deeply into all our hearts.
With love, Ned
Encl: Clipping "Let God Arise!"
May 9, 1944
Lucy darling:
I had as dinner guests last night, Commander Davy who was the British liason officer a couple of years ago with me in Massawa, and his wife. He was away from home 21/2 years on that stretch - quite a trial for all hands. He finally got back here a few months after I got back myself. We had dinner at the American Senior Officers' Club (where they really serve a good meal) and after that went out to Regent's Park where they have a small flat - of all places, over a garage behind someone's house! This town is rather crowded.
I'm living in a hotel myself just now, but as it seems I'll stay around here a while, I thought I might preferably change my residence, so I took a walk over to look at Marsham Court. It was quite as usual when we stayed there last time, but no vacant apartments. I'll look around a bit tomorrow in the vicinity of our other former residence, Grosvenor House, which area may be more convenient to me.
By the way, I neglected to mention the matter before, but the per diem called for in my orders is paid officers here, so I should get along all right without any need to modify my allotments from what they've been during the last year.
I managed to acquire yesterday the necessary British fittings and a resistance to cut the voltage down to suit my electric razor and now I can use it again. That's lucky, for every day I've been here and had to use a Gillette, I shaved off parts of my epidermis and my face was getting both sore and bloody every morning. Now that at least is cured.
I suppose by now Mary and Ned (Ed: his daughter and her husband, my father) have probably gone back to Fort Benning. I wonder what all happened with them since I left. I hope the troubles looming up that departure morning cleared away, but did they? There were some basic questions that were far from settled.
No letters from home yet.
With love, Ned
May 12, 1944
Lucy darling:
Today I received the first mail from home - your letters #2, 3 and 4, one from Mary, and one you forwarded from Lt. Aldrich. Your #1 is missing.
It was wonderful to hear from you again and to see your beloved handwriting - even that is some part of you and makes you seem a little present, though only a little.
There is no reason I can learn here why you should not now let any of our friends know in general where I am, the country, that is. Reference to a specific station is forbidden. As regards the address, which may or may not be changed for a while, you can give it out to those you care to.
Your letters came through uncensored and unopened. Of course all mail from this end is more rigidly supervised and censored than ever and at present, is I understand, subject to considerable delay for security reasons.
I am glad to note Mary and Ned bought the car. I think the price was fair all around and the car is easily worth the price, though from your father's point of view, he could certainly never have got it in New England and even around New York the sale of such a large engined car was a difficult problem. Down south that car should be worth far more.
I'm glad to see Forrestal was made Secretary. I believe that was by far the best solution.
Tragic is the word for Jean Pilling's married life, all right. Fate has hit her with nearly everything, poor girl.
My passage here was quite uneventful and not record breaking. Just an ordinary trip, good weather all the way, no delays anywhere, no excitement.
I'm glad to know my cable was received the same day it was sent, which was the day after my arrival here.
Remarkable that Clara's (Ed: Lucy's aunt) book finally returned after a year and a half's wandering.
I am pleased to learn of young Jack's promotion to Captain. I'm sure he's earned it.
And meanwhile I'm fine.
With much love, Ned
May 16, 1944
Lucy darling:
I received your #5 a couple of days ago. Your first letter is still missing.
I've gone to the shore now where I guess I'll stay awhile. In a sense it annoys me, because I find that the sea shore hotels charge even more than the metropolitan ones, though I'd hardly call this the resort season, even in this area. It's damned cold around here - colder than it was in Scotland last winter one of the men here assures me. And meanwhile all my heavy underwear is still at sea, much to my regret. I still more regret it because when it comes, there will be a further delay before it can possibly be rerouted to me down here.
Unlike London, this spot reminds me more of Algiers. Last night (my first here) the sirens blew, the ack-ack guns performed and some bombs burst. Quite like old times.
Night before last they knocked down 15 German planes along this coast, according to the papers this morning. A couple were bounced into the drink by the guns and fighters close by where we're working. That seems to have been one of the worst nights the Luftwaffe has had for some time.
I'm glad Mary and Ned seem satisfied with their car purchase. I believe the price was mutually advantageous.
I'm much afraid mail transmission here may be slower both ways than before. Stick to the present address, however, for I doubt there will be any gain in changing it just now.
With much love, Ned
Letter #8 May 18, 1944
Lucy darling:
As I look forward to our anniversary, which this time we shall have to spend apart, I am doubly glad to remember that kind fortune at least gave us a chance to spend our twenty-fifth together. This, I'm sure, will be the last separation. Thank God I was home for the last one and for Mary's wedding.
There is a feeling of loneliness especially acute at being apart for that day. Every thing else here goes to accentuate it - quarters in a seashore hotel, unheated now in weather colder than last winter here, the chill breeze from the water, the desolation wrought by four years of intense bombing which have left a large part of the town in ruins. This place, and the towns like it all along the shore come fully up to the newspaper reports of the devastation of the blitz and since then.
Sunday and Monday night we were bombed again, but nowadays the ack-ack and the night fighters make the raids relatively ineffective and very costly - for one stick of five bombs which missed their target and damaged only a pub and a few houses, the Germans had 15 planes knocked down Sunday night and 6 more Monday. The last couple of nights the weather was bad and there were no attacks.
Five years ago today I think it was, I journeyed north to spend a week with John and Lucy, who were kind enough to take me in when the whole town was jammed with visitors. Somehow history seems to be repeating itself, for once again I'm in a town packed with unseasonable crowds but this time no good friends to stay with and I'm damned lucky to be able to get into this delightfully cool summer hotel.
I haven't been completely among strangers, for I've met various officers I knew in the Middle East several years ago, mostly of the Royal Navy. And oddly enough, on the beach yesterday where I went for a conference, a lieutenant in the Royal Navy came up to me and said,
Wasn't that odd to meet your unknown guest three thousand miles away literally on a foreign strand?
The curtain has gone up in Italy. Too bad Wagner is not available to write what would have been his grandest score - the Gotterdammerung of the new pagan gods. May I contribute a few notes.
Ned
May 21, 1944
Lucy darling:
I've really gone to the shore at last, away from any towns and it seems like old times (not quite) in our cottage at Southwest Harbor. Believe it or not (and in this chill weather it seems unbelievable) I'm living again in a summer cottage right on the beach with plenty of sea breezes to keep the place cool, and some nice cold water right off the front doorstep to go swimming in (if any one were such a fool). The water is nearly as cold (not quite) as that Labrador Current which laps our rocks at the Anchorage (Ed: in Southwest Harbor, ME), and the weather reminds me of Maine in October.
The cottage itself (unoccupied by its owners apparently since the war started) is of usual summer cottage construction, wood, but it is not badly fitted out - a real electric stove, running hot and cold water (an electric hot water tank), toilet, shower bath, real beds, and grass about a yard high in the area around the cottage. Also several steamer chairs and a beautiful view of the water across the barbed wire entanglements.
I had some luck today. I've just about been freezing to death ever since I got here, for all heating stopped on May 1. (Of course, they never really heated anything over here anyway). My stuff by sea hasn't come yet, and Heaven knows when I'll get it. So I managed to draw two suits of heavy woolen underwear from a Seabee outfit this morning, and I was inside one of them just as quickly as I could jeep back to my domicile. For the first time since I left New York I feel warm again.
The second thing I collected today was a tin hat, which is also very useful when the ack-ack shells come down out of the sky (frequent around here).
Which is the more useful, the underwear or the tin hat, is quite a question. Personally, I think pneumonia is a greater danger out here than the war.
I'm sorry to say that I haven't had a letter since I left London, which is the result of very poor communications this way. The mail service going out of here is, I hope, better. (The last letter I received is #5).
Everyone in our area is quite busy, as you can well imagine. We see flocks of planes every day bound both ways to make it hot for our friends abroad (altruistic, certainly, considering how cold we are here) and what the papers say about hundreds of planes on each attack is certainly so. On the contrary, the German attacks are very slight in numbers comparatively, which I notice is a repetition of the old Algiers experience.
I trust I stay here awhile till summer weather really comes, but I doubt that that ever happens. Why the English have summer cottages anyway, I can't see. I don't think it ever really gets hot here, and certainly the water really never gets warm, so why bother?
I suppose you've heard from Mary since she got back to Fort Benning. She is probably plenty hot down there now. How did the Buick run on their trip?
Well, the attack in Italy seems to be progressing favorably. That should give the Nazis a foretaste of what's in store for them elsewhere.
I've just about run through the magazines and reading matter I brought over. When I'm certain about the mails both ways, which I trust maybe settled in a few weeks, I'll send for some of my own books. Aside from rereading them myself, some of the people here I meet have read some of them and manifest an interest in some others.
With much love, Ned
May 23, 1944
Lucy darling:
We had another air raid last night around midnight which lasted about an hour. There was quite a display of ack-ack shells bursting high in the darkness, the roar of bombing engines you could hear but not see, searchlights fingering the heavens, chandelier flares dropped by the Nazis to illuminate the targets, and a perfectly dazzling effect of rocket batteries firing salvos. The lonely beach we are on wasn't the target, it was a town a few miles away, where however I was most of last week. (It got bombed a couple of times then, also). What the damages were, we don't know here - I heard a pub got smacked. Most of he churches there and a good part of that town are already flattened out, since a couple of years ago it was one of the most blitzed points in England, continuously receiving far more attention than London. But the Nazi raids aren't what they used to be then. And this morning an unusually heavy air force of our own went out over the coast in retaliation, so I have no doubt we finished ahead on balance.
It is amazing in point of time how close we are to the enemy. Planes taking off from the fields around us in ten minutes are over enemy territory; conversely, in about the same time, the enemy can reach us. It is a striking instance of our air superiority that not one enemy plane in daylight have I seen over our coast, while on contrary our planes by the hundreds pass overhead morning, noon, and afternoon (let alone night) to smack the enemy bases in northern France.
I hope somehow in the next few days I can manage to get to London & see what's holding up my mail.
With love, Ned
May 27, 1944
Lucy dearest:
The mail situation has been very confused lately. Since I left London for another spot, I received nothing at all. Then I was shifted again to the beach, and still nothing. So yesterday I went up to London to see about it. I was told there three letters had been forwarded a few days before to my first change via the British post but on my return here via that place, they hadn't yet come. At any rate, while I was still in the London office, a new mail arrived, and I received four letters from you - your #1, 7, 8, and 13, and one from Mary. They also told me in London a "telegram" (or cable?) had come some days before for me, which had been forwarded with the mail. I haven't that either, nor could the London Western Union office find it for me, since I couldn't even give them the exact date it was supposed to come, and they have thousands every day. If you sent it, please repeat its contents in a letter.
You will observe that airmail stamps do you no good. I am assured here, everything goes out the same way, regardless of stamps or no stamps. I am certain looking at the stamps, regular and otherwise, on your letters, that everything gets exactly the same treatment in the Fleet Post Office in New York regardless of stamps. Your letters arrive here uncensored and without even a censor's stamp on them, which is interesting.
I note from Mary's letter (of May 17) they've been transferred to Fort Meade.
The weather here has warmed a bit, and last night was gorgeous, with a lovely sea and a crescent moon. No bombs.
I listened last evening (in a nearby cottage with a British radio) to Radio Berlin, being the first time since leaving Africa I've heard it. There were two programs in English of special interest. The first was "Midge" broadcasting in excellent American to "her kids," "the Yanks" in England for whom there were tears in her voice over their being sent soon to slaughter. Her program consisted of an excellent jazz orchestra, playing nostalgic American love songs (not new) after each of which in a much concerned voice Midge would ask "her kids" didn't they wish they were back with their girls, and remind them girls get tired of waiting and run off with the boys at home (which the Massawa experience of my young army officers confirms). Then they played "Were you sincere?" and Midge asked was Roosevelt sincere when he sent us here, and were we sincere in being here at the direction "of Roosevelt, who never keeps his promises, and of the Jewish interests?" After which Midge enquired, "Am I right, or am I? Good night, kids!"
Quite a program. I shall take a deep personal interest when I get to Berlin in personally helping to wring Midge's neck if I can ever locate her.
Then William Joyce, "Lord Haw Haw" took over with the news as seen from Berlin. It appears that the Germans have withdrawn from the Italian coast to higher ground inland. To avoid the malarial season coming on, I suppose, since he didn't suggest the Americans had anything to do with it. About the "much advertised invasion, he would leave us to speculation and doubt, doubt and speculation." And then he turned to a long analysis of Churchill's recent speech in Parliament on foreign affairs, showing his listeners that Britain had lost her power in world affairs and was now but a tool of the Kremlin and the White House. So why should another Englishman sacrifice his life for such leaders?
William Joyce is another traitor I shall enjoy seeing hanged before too long. It interests me to note that in these broadcasts Germany has reached the point where no longer is Nazi might going to dominate the world or decide the issue, but the Nazis are now clutching at such straws as American nostalgic sentiment and British fears of their allies to ease the blow on them.
Well, they are wrong. There isn't an American soldier here who isn't eager to get home, but they seem to realize the road lies through Berlin and they are chafing for D day to get started on it.
Meanwhile, all hangs upon the British and the American navies. I have no doubts about Eisenhower's army crashing through once they are on the far shore, but our navies must first put them there and the real battle is going to be fought out by ships, mostly small, of which the world will never hear, and which look very little like conventional ideas of warships. Our weird little ships of all kinds against German mines and beach obstructions - on these prosaic little Davids rests the result. Ranged about them are tremendous preparations, in no way exaggerated by the press reports. And overhead an overwhelming air umbrella, the worth of which no one depreciates. But it is on what is in and under the water that we must combat with our little ships that the problem lies. Germany thinks it has there an impregnable Atlantic Wall. The Nazis will soon learn it's about as good as the Maginot Line.
With much love, Ned
Letter #12 May 29, 1944
Lucy dearest:
No more letters since I wrote before. Those so far received are #1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, and 13. At least 3 letters and a telegram (or cable) received in London about 10 days ago are still chasing me over England and seem lost for the present. If you sent me a cable, please repeat the contents in a letter since the cable company can't locate a copy of it.
Since I left London two weeks ago, the mail delivery has slumped. The forwarding from there is terrible, though they have my new address. However, I do not dare to change my number, since before you got it, it might be changed again and thus make matters even worse.
Air raid alarm just sounded. (A little after midnight).
I have just been rereading your letters, particularly the last four - 1, 7, 8, and 13 which I managed to collect myself a few days ago on a brief trip to London. So in answer to your questions:
There is no reason now why our friends cannot be told I'm in England.
(Twenty minutes later. All clear. Some distant firing heard for a few minutes. Nothing close by). (Yesterday all day the cottage shook every few minutes as from earthquakes. I have an idea the coast of France was getting quite a beating).
Yesterday (Sunday) I attended services (Episcopal) at an army chaplain's nearby here, it being Whit Sunday. Solemn enough. I thought the hymn with which the service closed, "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," particularly appropriate.
I'm glad to know you met Mrs. Howe. I've never met her so far as I can remember, but Howe thought we had years ago. I trust you found her companionable.
I am pleased Walter will go to Officer's Candidate School. I'm sure he'll make a fine officer. Pass my congratulations along to him.
Remember me to Mr. Beard. I whole-heartedly appreciate his thoughts of me.
I can't shed any tears over Commander Carmine's having to come away from California. So far as I am concerned, he can keep on coming all the way over here to relieve me, and I'd be overjoyed to spare him the need of standing the New Jersey climate. I could stand it with great pleasure myself, plus what goes with it. I've had more than enough now of separation and I earnestly hope when this one is over it will be the last forever. The remembrance of your smiles is with me always, and looking at your picture seems in a slight way to bring your presence a little to me when I roll in at night.
(1 a.m. Another alert).
And I particularly appreciate your prayers. The card you sent May 16 (#13) "God keep you in His loving care, Every day and everywhere," I felt deeply. I feel moreover He does. I've had a couple of minor accidents that might have been serious, but weren't. About a week ago I dropped eight feet down a vertical ladder on a small Dutchman converted into something else for us, and came down in the hold squarely on my right heel, with nothing else touching. I got a stiff jolt so I couldn't bear any weight on that heel, so the surgeon carted me over to the main naval hospital where they took three Xrays of my right heel. There was no fracture anywhere, so I got a sponge rubber cushion and a cane, and in a few days was able to get around with nothing except the rubber pad. However, it didn't work out too well, for a few days ago later in jumping from another vessel to a boat alongside, my leg missed the rail and I went overboard into the Channel. I came up all right and swam to a fender hanging down the side, from which they fished me thoroughly soaked. My waterproof wristwatch got a good workout and emerged satisfactorily. I was interested to note that the water, which I had feared was cold enough to be numbing, didn't feel cold at all, but quite comfortable to swim in, at least fully clothed (with woolen underwear on also). I went back to the cottage to hang all my clothes, including my shoes, on the line to dry.
My heel is about well now, so I don't need the rubber cushion, and I appreciate two solid legs more than ever.
(This time the planes passed directly overhead, with the guns banging away right alongside. However, the target was further to the westward - no bombs around here. The all clear has just sounded again. 2 a.m.).
I note in the English papers that air-raid precaution watches have been abandoned at home. I guess they don't need them there any more. And I hope now it won't be too long before the Nazis are shoved so far away from here that this coast also can dispense with sirens.
With much love, Ned
May 31, 1944
Lucy darling:
Tomorrow is our anniversary, our last apart I trust. I cherish memories of our twenty-fifth, which by the grace of God we were happily able to spend in each others arms. May the next one and all others yet to come be lightened for me by your glowing eyes and softened by your caresses!
This one will be lonely enough, in spite of the planes continually roaring overhead and the flotillas streaming to their anchors just offshore. God alone knows how many hundreds of thousands of men there may be strung out along this shore waiting with the planes and the ships for the signal for action which cannot now be much further off, but one can still be very lonely in a crowd when the single person who gives life any meaning is not of it.
So now on the eve of June, I wait with very different thoughts from those of twenty-six years ago, for June and the storm that will break with it this time. The preparations are tremendous, our forces immense but the obstacles at sea and on the beaches across the water are of great magnitude. Here Hitler stands or falls and his resistance will be desperate. Regardless of what happens, we have the power to crash through ultimately, but I hope that with good seamanship, good weather, and the help of God in this undertaking, we will crash through on the first assault and swiftly scuttle the last Nazi hopes of any stalemate.
With much love, my dear, Ned
Letter #14 June 3, 1944
Lucy darling:
Our anniversary came and went, marked mainly by a Dutch commander, a Royal Navy lieutenant, and a Royal Engineer's subaltern all wishing me happier ones in the future over the tea cups in the Dutchman's little cabin aboard an insignificant Dutch ship on which I had been working over the pumping equipment all the day. It was heartening to know they really felt their good wishes. My heart ached for the Dutch three-striper, though, for he was in the East Indies when Holland fell four years ago and he hasn't heard from his family yet. But now the day of reckoning draws near and no one puts his soul more wholeheartedly into the preparations than this exiled Hollander.
The weather is good and we all pray it remains so. It has turned warm the last few days, and nature at least is propitious. And overhead in swarms our bombers and our fighters stream out over the water to prepare the way. Last evening just at sunset (10:30 pm here) some fifty Flying Fortresses headed homeward passed inland right above us quite high up in a stately procession with the setting sun gilding the under sides of their wings almost as if they were aflame. But there was a sombre note to the occasion, as one of the planes twice fired a red flare - the signal that she had wounded aboard and for the ambulances on the field ahead to stand by her when she landed. To complete the picture, several miles behind the main formation, a solitary Fortress, unable to keep up with the others, straggled behind, with four fighters, Lightnings (sic), hovering protectively in her rear, apparently having shepherded her safely across the Channel.
The hours of daylight here are amazing. England, even the southern part of it, lies much farther north than usually we realize in the U.S. Then they have double summer time here, with the clocks advanced two hours over Greenwich time, and since we are practically on the Greenwich meridian, we get the full advantage of being the whole two hours (less only a few minutes) ahead of the sun. The result then of all this is that it is light outside till about 11 pm by our clocks, and the darkness lasts only till 5 am. Some long day!
About the allotment, I suspected that you might get two conflicting notices regarding the amount. If the actual check you received on June 1 was not for $560, I suggest that the quickest way to clarify the situation is to go to the Navy disbursing officer at 90 Church Street, 14th floor, officer's accounts, and ask them to clear it up. It was in that office that my allotment change requests were made, and they have the records. I think you'll get quicker action there in person, than by writing to the Allotment Office in Cleveland or Chicago or wherever it is.
I received four letters from you last night - #14, 15, 16, and 19. It appears they reach here in batches about once a week, but apparently with some gaps as the above numbers and past experience show. I still have not received three letters forwarded me from London nearly two weeks ago (including a telegram from Heaven knows who) which were sent down here via the British mails and have not since been seen. I think those missing letters probably comprised most of your 9, 10, 11 & 12, which haven't yet been delivered. Do you know anything of the telegram (or perhaps it was a cable)?
Up to now, I certainly haven't been overworked, having done mostly a thinking part, with plenty of time to rest. And I may say I have no intentions of doing any diving, aside from which there appears to be no need anyway.
So far as I know there is no reason why you can't tell our friends (or the Leader) (Ed: Westfield, NJ newspaper) that I've gone to England.
In this cottage, the breakfast problem is solved. I get my own - usually coffee or tea and oatmeal. No fruit or fruit juices are available, but toast and marmalade are. I wouldn't use the milk around here, and I don't care for the evaporated kind, so the coffee is always black (as for connoisseurs?).
I'm glad to hear your mother is with you and I trust she stays a while. I did not understand your reference "to what the doctor told her." Perhaps you elaborated on that in some of your missing letters. What did the doctor tell her?
I am sorry to learn Mr. Hastings is no better. I certainly shall write them in a day or two.
I'm afraid there isn't much in the way of alleviatory advice I can give Ned or Mary now. I'm just a little afraid this last transfer was a result of that gorgeous rejoinder Ned made to his unsatisfactory fitness report - it is about the normal manner a commanding officer would take to end an unsatisfactory situation without a rumpus. The only answer I know to the situation is to bury the past and even in an unpromising position to do the best possible.
As regards the new war bond drive, I believe it desirable to buy $1000 more. However, you'll have to judge that situation yourself. Certainly for the present I won't need any more money than I get here.
I see from your letter about Matt's telephone call that he is still exactly his old self.
How long I'll be here is uncertain; no great while, I judge. And where I'll go from here, I don't know yet, though I may learn soon. But from the way things are moving now in Italy, I have great hopes that when Montgomery gets another smack at Rommel, the old chase will be resumed with all its former vigor. I note that the German radios have a new song. That old one of 1940, "We Sail Against England" has been supplanted by "The Watch on the Channel." I'm afraid that watch is shortly going to be suffering from a busted mainspring.
It's midnight now. The roar of British bombers passing overhead for the last hour has finally ceased and they must all be over France now, dropping bombs into the works of that watch. So I'll turn in. Tomorrow is Sunday, and a very busy day here. With love, Ned
June 5, 1944
Lucy darling:
The major feature here is watching the Forts fly over, very high. They aren't camouflaged any more, they are just a glistening aluminum, and the way they shine in the sunlight now is gorgeous. Yesterday in one formation nearly two hundred passed overhead, a stately and magnificent sight, though I doubt they looked so beautiful to the Germans a short while later. There must have been a thousand tons of high explosive cascaded down the necks of our Nazi friends from that formation alone.
Yesterday the weather wasn't good and today it isn't much better. It blew fairly hard and kicked up quite a sea. Inasmuch as I had to make a trip on a sub chaser with a number of British army brass hats and a few of their top civilians, it had at least an advantage in giving some of those gentlemen an idea of what effect sea conditions have on operations. We were out in the clear in the worst of it at noon, when dinner was served - a grand dinner, steak, mashed potatoes, peas, and a real fruit salad. Some of the army decided they weren't hungry and stayed on the topside, while half of the others after a few nibbles came to the same conclusion and fled to the deck. It was about the best dinner I've had since I landed here.
We had quite a trip and saw plenty, and it was plenty. Under the conditions, the puny efforts of the Germans to interfere by air remind me of the same situation in Algeria - I guess they just haven't got the stuff now any more than they had then.
We all got pretty well soaked from spray coming over as our little sub chaser took the seas over her forecastle, but I had taken the precaution to don my woolies before we started, and I wasn't cold. However, when we got in and I had dried off, I could literally wipe the salt off my face. Reminded me of sailing days on the Argo (Ed: his 27' "A" class gaff-rigged sloop in Southwest Harbor, ME), which by the way, would be useful here, for this is the world famous center of British yachting (except that the sailing yachts are all stowed for the duration, and I haven't seen a single sail while here).
I visited Chichester Cathedral a few days ago. It isn't as big as Lincoln or York, but I thought it was decidedly more graceful than York, and definitely less severe. It has the most graceful stone spire I've seen, hexagonal, beautifully proportioned, with lovely sculptured stonework at the one-third and the two-thirds points of its height (the lower tracery different in design from the upper). This cathedral is reminiscent of the Florentine ones in that it has a bell tower entirely separate from the cathedral building, standing about fifty feet from it, and apparently older than the cathedral itself.
The cathedral hasn't been bombed, nor has the town to any extent, though it isn't far from two of the most bombed parts in England. I understand, however, many of the parishioners would like to take their bishop out and drown him, for he is one of the leading lights in England who is opposed to bombing Germany; some think they see a connection between his expressed opinions and the immunity of his cathedral, but I doubt that. The town is a little out of the way, with far more attractive targets nearby, and I think that's the answer.
With much love, Ned
June 6, 1944
Lucy darling:
This has been D day. From everything I have seen or heard here, it has gone better than any expectation. I have said before that the preparations have been terrific. The vast number of ships that launched this expedition was beyond any belief as I saw them before sailing. Let alone any enemy hazards, the traffic problem across the channel was of itself immense.
All last night bombers roared overhead to plaster the enemy beachheads. In the distance, behind the mine sweepers, the bombarding warships steamed away and then a veritable avalanche of landing vessels and transports. Strange as it may seem, a real surprise appears to have been achieved in the point of attack and in the time.
Today more planes than ever were seen anywhere before streamed continuously across the channel. If any German plane showed itself over Normandy (few did) it couldn't have lasted but a moment in the face of the swarms of fighters we had there. And this afternoon we saw the second paratroop division stream outward - an interminable line of transport planes each towing a glider. One towing plane, flying low but trying to climb unsuccessfully, was obviously in difficulty and I headed out in my boat to stand by when suddenly it let go from the glider a shower of parachutes over the water. We started for the spot to rescue the men but it soon turned out they had dumped only their equipment, not the men. The plane, its load somewhat lightened, turned back toward land which it managed to reach and then cast loose its glider, while the plane itself gained enough altitude then to make a nearby field apparently.
Here on our beach we have been sending away special craft all day - so special and so odd you'd think them nightmares if you sighted them in ordinary times at sea.
Our last reports - this is after midnight of D day - are that the beachheads are firmly held. What a cause for thanksgiving that is, only those here can know, for all our advance air reconnaissance data showed tough beach obstacles, heaven alone knows how many mines, and what other surprises, one could only guess. Now we are over that, the end is sure.
What has already passed over to assault the beaches is nothing as compared with what is ready to follow. The attack in Italy, ending a couple of days ago in the capture of Rome, was a fitting enough overture. Now will come the crashing outburst of forces that will overwhelm the neo-pagan gods and that Wagner alone could set proper music to. Hitler is going to learn what force really is. As for Goering, if only he could have seen the skies today, he might have turned green with envy.
And so ends the first day.
With love, Ned
June 9, 1944
Lucy darling:
Just a note to say I'm busy but everything is going well.
Love, Ned
June 9, 1944 Same place
Lucy darling:
Your cable of the 29th arrived here June 3. Your "canned" cable of May 13 never has reached me, though I judge now it actually reached London about May 20 and was lost in transit between there and here.
Your letters #6, 10, 11, 20, 22, and 23 all reached here together last night, together with the one from Glen Galvin (ex-Massawa) which you forwarded to me.
You might as well quit worrying about erratic mails either way. I regret to tell you that the mail coming here from you arrives quite irrespective of air mail or ordinary stamps, to which no attention whatever is paid by the Fleet Post Office in New York. Apparently it all goes out by the line (air) on which I came, when, if, and as the planes sail, and no doubt to some degree haphazardly depending on which bags get on the first plane out and which don't.
As regards the mail from here to the US, I am assured that it all goes (or doesn't go) the identical way regardless of whether it is "Free," ordinary postage, or so plastered with airmail stamps you can't see the address. They don't care here; it all goes into the same bag, and when there is a plane going back, some bags go on that one, and the rest, if there isn't room, wait for another.
That the Army (and Jane's boy friend) may get better and more regular service is of no moment to the Navy and I can't do anything about it. All Navy mail must go through the Navy post office; it cannot be sent by regular civilian service regardless of my desires; and it cannot go with the Army mail or thru an Army post office. That is a Navy censorship rule which cannot be broken.
The Army service is undoubtedly better. The Army runs its own air transport service which carries its mail, and the number of flights each way are very great. The Navy has none such. It works only with the air line on which I came over, and I need hardly tell you what the delays on it are or can be.
On top of all else, I am in an out of the way spot, and there are delays between here and London both ways which amount to several days or more and are quite unpredictable.
So please quit worrying that delays mean that I'm sick or incapacitated. They don't mean anything more than that the mail service for the Navy varies from excellent to rotten. There was one further factor. I understand that from about mid-May to D-day, there were some intentional holdings of the mail for strategic or security reasons. If that was so, it may be over now.
At the present moment, your still missing letters are #9, 12, and 21. The last received is #23 of May 31, including the "News of the Week."(It had no air mail stamps on it, by the way).
Darling, I hope the above explains the mail question and ends it. I hate to waste letters to you on that subject; I'm not trying to save money on air mail stamps; and if I spent a dollar in stamps on each letter (which I'd gladly do if it helped delivery) it wouldn't get it to you any sooner.
Right now we're still busy here where I've been some weeks, dispatching quite odd craft (in which business salvage figures in a queer way) to the shore. I'll probably be here a few weeks yet.
I was exceedingly sorry to read in one of your delayed letters that your mother has cataracts in both eyes. I earnestly hope Dr. Childers' examination indicates a more promising outlook than the Willimantic diagnosis.
And I'm terribly shocked to hear about young Talbot Malcolm. You are quite right; the situation of that family makes the tragedy a continuing source of fear while this war lasts.
I was both interested and pleased to receive the letter from Glen Galvin which you forwarded (and read first, so you know what's in it). Glen was a college graduate, a Rose Bowl football player on Southern California's team, and quite an unusual person, who was coxswain in my personal launch at Massawa. He made a fine sailor, and never dreamed that a college degree put his task beneath him. It was good to hear that he thought I taught him something.
I was glad to hear from Mary directly and from you, that she likes her job, though it's out of her line. She mentions she's getting $146 a month which is fine and should be quite a help. However, it's finer that it interests her and keeps her busy.
As regards the allotment, I suppose that is straightened out by now. I can hardly do anything about it from here; it will be no use my writing. All the records on file at 90 Church show what's wanted. I quite expected you to get notices about stoppages, starts, and what not. However, the check you got June 1 is the answer. If it is not for $560 don't waste time writing anybody letters but go and see the allotment officer at 90 Church St.
About my old Navy overcoat, I'll never use it again, so I guess you had better donate it where it will do some good. As you say, the Navy buttons had better come off first, but I'm quite willing to pay for having a set of ordinary buttons put on before we pass it along.
The weather has been bad the last couple of days (worse today) and as we have to work at sea, it hasn't helped any. It's clearing tonight and I hope tomorrow will be passable.
Since it's now 1:30 am, I'll close.
With much love, Ned
P.S. I'll be interested to receive a list of missing letters (if any) at your end.
June 12, 1944
Lucy darling:
Yesterday was Sunday, but for us it was only D+5. We worked all day with our pumping equipment on more stuff for across the way. Quite a breeze here; it seems as if one fair day at a time is all that can be expected; otherwise it blows. It has rained every day but one since D day; for a month before that not a drop of rain. I'm still wearing my woolen underwear all the time and appreciating it. God knows if we'll ever have any summer weather this year. In a way, Massawa with all its faults, had at least one compensation - it was the land of eternal summer.
It will be a while yet before the armies on the far shore are built up to the size for offensive operations but the built up progresses well. We are now over the danger point, which was a successful first seizure of the beaches. That was an unknown in spite of all the preparations, the major uncertainty being the German mine fields in the channel. The little ships, the mine sweepers (into which the YMS that Mary christened, it was first a PC but was finished as a mine sweeper instead) had to go first all unprotected to sweep the channels through to the French shore so that the large warships could get in for their bombardment of the enemy shore batteries. Heaven only knows what that could have meant in losses and disaster had the Germans been a tenth as good as they bragged, but the mine sweepers did a magnificent job and our naval losses in getting up to the beaches (and in the following troop ships) was amazingly low. With that success, the rest was in the bag.
There was hard fighting on the beaches after the landings, especially on the middle American beaches. Don't let the newspaper reports that that was a walkover, impress you. The first wave had a tough time but they fought it through.
Now it's a race between Rommel's efforts to bring up his reserves by land and Montgomery's to get a build-up by sea. The advantage is on our side. No German plane by day has been here since a week before D day, nor in the Channel. On every good day here (and those not so good even) clouds of our planes go over to strafe Rommel's communications on a scale the world has never seen before. I wish Goering could be on hand to watch it.
I'm well and busy, and dream of you each night.
With love, Ned
P. S. Your canned cable of May 15 finally arrived yesterday together with your letter #9. They had chased me all over England, mainly due to the fact that they were misdirected to the Queens Hotel, Plymouth (which city I've not been in) instead of to the Queens Hotel, P----) where I was for a brief time three weeks ago.
Letter #20 June 12, 1944
Lucy darling:
Your #25 of June 3 arrived today. Your #9 and your "canned" cable of last May arrived day before yesterday. Your missing letters are now only #12 & 24. Apparently the mails from the U.S. have not been held up.
I am very sorry to hear from you that no mail has reached you since my #7 of May 16. I heard over here that about that time there would be a delay in delivery for security reasons, but I did not imagine it would be a complete stoppage. However, now that D day has passed, I imagine the hold up is over, but if the mails were held on this side all that while, the delays will be prolonged by the tremendous accumulations of letters now to be transported. Other officers report their families also have received nothing since letters sent in mid-May. Let me know when the mails come through again, and also a complete list by numbers of the letters you have received.
As regards the allotment, of which I note that the June check you received was only for $460. That shows atrocious management in the allotment office. Don't write any letters to anybody. Go yourself to the allotment office (13th or 14th floor at 90 Church Street) and ask them to check these facts: (take this letter with you) When you get this, I can't guess. If the matter isn't cleared up by then, proceed as above.
To change the subject, please quit using the thin somewhat pinkish airmail paper you have been using. The paper is so thin the ink shows through on both sides and it makes reading very difficult. (The light here is very poor). As I've said in several letters before (none of which you have yet received) airmail either way is a complete illusion. You gain nothing by airmail stamps; neither do I. But if it still pleases you to use airmail stamps, at least use ordinary paper and throw that thin stuff into the fire (including the transparent envelopes).
Sorry to have to waste a whole letter on the mail situation, allotment bungling, and delusions about airmail. As it's now after midnight, I can't write any more.
I'm still well, busy, and acquiring a very salty complexion from constant contact with the spray in the Channel.
With love, Ned
June 18, 1944
This is the first letter I've had a chance to write in four or five days, and inasmuch as I am at sea at present returning to my former base, I haven't my number list with me and I may be off on the proper sequence.
I went over early this week aboard some of our special equipment and I've put in the time since on our new beachhead helping to get it going. I just finished that today and I'm on my way back.
I must say our project was a grand success and the results are making Jerry rub his eyes as he sees the terrific amount of heavy tanks and artillery smacking him on the front lines, all of which is coming through without a regular port in our hands. I'll bet he never counted on that. I believe this project, which I can't describe now, but which will probably soon be released by the censors, is the most amazing thing which has been done anywhere in this war. The idea is British (you would never have given them credit for that much imagination) but the execution on the American beachheads was in our hands and has gone beautifully.
I went over on the queerest craft that ever floated, and am coming back on one of our empty LST's, which is carrying a heavy passenger list of some 250 of our wounded (I'm not one of them).
The main beachhead has probably been adequately described by now in the press, so I won't go into it. Taking it was a tough job, and as General Montgomery said, the first two days our troops clung to the beach only by their eyelids, under heavy machine gun and mortar fire. But now it's well in hand, the front line is over fifteen miles inland moving on St. Lo, and the Germans will shortly feel the effects of the huge tonnage moving over that beach.
We had a beautiful guard both ways over the Channel (which was crowded with ships) and no signs of enemy aircraft or surface ships. Mines are however, still a danger but a decreasing one.
When I get back (it's nearly midnight and we should be in in about an hour) I'll probably report back to London in a day or so for what's next. This job is over.
When I get a chance, I'll send you a little something I picked up in Bayeaux (with some difficulty in settling the price since my French is still exceedingly nebulous). I found the French glad to see us, but when it comes to shopping, it appears that the French are still the French so far as Americans are concerned.
I have an idea the American soldier is very quickly going to acquire a first class hatred for the Nazis. This business of booby traps and mining the roadsides after they've cleared out doesn't go down well, and a few other things since D day make it easy to believe for our soldiers that the stories they read in the last war about German atrocities weren't wholly the propaganda that our friends of the goodwill fellowship would have us believe. It looks as if the Nazis haven't changed their stripes any.
Our naval losses in the first crossing and assault were amazingly low, due to excellent preparation, excellent guarding and minesweeping, and a first class air cover.
No German planes ever show up over the beachheads in the daytime, but each night there we got raided. However, the damage the Germans have managed to accomplish with their night raiders has been negligible.
I hope I find some new letters from you when I get in, and I trust the mail is now going through to you. And I could use some sleep tonight.
With much love, Ned
June 19, 1944
Lucy darling:
I returned to England this morning after a week across the Channel on our beachheads and inland. My task in connection with the actual invasion is now completed. This morning I packed up all my stuff from my seashore cottage, locked it up, and returned to headquarters where I originally reported to await my next assignment.
I bought you a small present in Bayeaux a few days ago. I had intended to mail it to you from here, but I found today that a Mr. Loveland (a civilian in the War Shipping Administration) who has been here a few weeks on a shipping problem, is returning late this week by air and he offered to take it with him and forward it to you when he gets to New York, which should be before you get this letter. I hope it reaches you soon, and not the way the one I sent you from Pernambuco. Think of me a little when you use it.
My greatest joy on setting foot on English soil again was to find six letters from you waiting for me - your numbers 24, 26, 27, 28, 29 & 30. There is missing now only #12.
Your letters are a joy and a breath of your own lovely presence. No man ever had a more lovely and a more loving wife and in a lonely and a dismal situation of war and desolation and destruction, they provide a beacon light to remind me of better hours in the past and happier ones to come.
London is under fire now (it's midnight) from the Nazi pilotless-plane bombs. So far since I reached here early this evening there have been about six siren alarms warning of them coming over, and one explosion (the only one I've heard at all) close enough to shake this hotel noticeably.
I understand the Nazi radio claims London is in a panic and is being evacuated. Actually London is paying about as much attention to them as New York does to Norman Thomas, and the military effect is nil.
Yesterday one did hit a church full of worshippers and the casualties there were considerable - an episode reminiscent of World War I when one of the shells of the German long range guns hit a church in Paris with similar results.
A number of these flying bombs have already been shot down on their way over, and I have no doubt but that an effective antidote will soon end them all.
My post office number is now actually Navy 100 again, and I can receive my mail here without its being reforwarded to me, which should save some days.
With mush love, Ned
Letter #23 June 20, 1944
Lucy darling:
I hope long before this that the holdup of mail for security reasons has ceased and the held up letters have been delivered. I have all your letters now (up to #30) with the exception of #12, which I’m afraid has gone permanently astray chasing me around the south coast before D-day.
As you will observe from my last two letters (#20 written at sea on my way back from the far shore, and #21 yesterday evening from here) I’m through with the first phase of my job which was wound up with the actual invasion, and I’m now back where I originally started here (and even in the same hotel) with a new assignment which is practically the one I came over for originally. There will be an interval right here working on plans before I can do anything with the actual work, for it appears that I shall have nothing to do with what is at this date Bradley’s main objective.
I still marvel at the results achieved D-day. Compared to the number of ships we had figured on losing to torpedoes, radio controlled glider bombs, air attack, and mines (and mostly mines) what few we actually lost seems unbelievable. A special large squadron of coast guard cutters had been sent over for the sole purpose of picking swimming soldiers by the thousands from lost transports. They had practically nothing to do on the main crossing. Not a single regular transport was touched. The air attack, the glider bombs, the torpedoes, never showed up. The only danger encountered was the mines, and the mine sweepers working ahead did such a fine job, only a few destroyers and an LST were lost on the way over, and only on the actual beaches where the small craft had to go with no mine sweeper protection, did mines among the beach obstructions give real trouble.
The one uncertainty I had about the operation was what the mines in the Channel might do to us. When you consider the thousands of ships that crossed during the night before D-day dawned, it was easily conceivable what defended mine fields could do to us. But the Germans weren’t up to it and the actual crossing cost us less in troopships than the North African invasion.
That one uncertainty has now long since gone by the board, and the answer is a foregone conclusion. On our main beach there were two hazardous days because it so happened by chance that on that one beach a German division was practicing invasion defense and was right on the spot when the real thing happened, so there the battle hung in the balance a couple of days. But now that the beachheads are no longer beachheads but well-secured in depth, the men and equipment pouring in can have only one result. Rommel and Rundstadt are going to get smacked an awful smack in the next month or so when Montgomery’s men and material put him in about the position he was in at El Alemain in late October, 1942. History is going to repeat itself on a grand scale.
It seems Goebbels is running wild on what the pilotless bombs are doing to London. The thing is a complete flop. Yesterday I heard only one explosion, today none at all. There aren’t any fires, and if anyone has evacuated this place, it could only have been because his creditors had caught up with him.
My estimate is that by now the British have pretty well mastered the technique of knocking them down in flight, so that today few, if any, are getting through to London.
I enclose some clippings on the subject. The first couple of days, a number of people were killed by the bombs which came over, but that hazard is now slight. I don’t believe on even those days, the Germans did even a fraction of the damage that a small sized bomber raid achieves.
I judge from the various allotment notices you have received stopping this, starting that, stopping the other, that the allotment office will have caught up with itself so that the July check will be correct anyway. It may take some time (maybe they’ll never do it) to rectify the June underpayment, but if they finally say they can’t, I’ll collect the unpaid $100 over here and send it to you. Let me know the outcome after you’ve been to 90 Church Street personally. (As I said before, writing will do you no good).
I learned today that my baggage arrived at a northern port on June 9, with an estimated three weeks or more to get it here from there. The supply officer here is going to make an effort to have it flown down. I don’t care so much just now for the clothes I had in it, since I’ve duplicated the heavy things and I’ll not need any whites this summer, but I do badly need the technical books.
I’m glad to hear you bought the $1,000 war bonds. If you find yourself short, I can help to the extent of a couple of hundreds, as my per diem covers all my expenses and possibly a little over, so that I still have the $150 intact that I brought over, plus the $70 for May due on my pay account above the $560 allotment.
My mail address is again (and yet) Navy 100, and I’ll get my mail here directly with no reforwarding, so I should get better delivery than I’ve had the last month.
With regard to that seashore cottage I had (but not any longer) two other officers and I had it together. But now it’s deserted again. The other two are still in France and I’m here with no likelihood of any more duty on English beaches. The cost was quite reasonable down there, only two guineas a week for the whole cottage. We did our own cooking and got along much better than the hotel meals in London. (I did also my own laundry, and my share of the cleaning).
With much love, Ned
P.S. Will you please cut out the financial pages of the Times (any day but Sundays) and send it to me. I’d like to get an idea of what the financial situation is.
Encls: Various newspaper articles
Letter #24 June 21, 1944
Lucy darling:
Your #32 arrived today. 12 and 31 not yet here.
Since my 8 & 9 have reached you, I judge they have resumed mail deliveries.
About the allotment, I checked with the paymaster here and his records show that he deducted $560 from my pay in May to cover the allotment to be paid you on June 1. So far as he is concerned, its $560 which he is checking my pay each month, and as he has already checked it against me, it is up to the allotment office to pay you the missing $100.
I wrote you yesterday (concluding about midnight) about the slight damage in London of the pilotless bombs, including the fact that I had heard none yesterday. Immediately after that letter, I turned in. A little later, I heard the air raid siren and went to sleep again. Shortly after that I waked to hear a hell of an explosion with the hotel shaking as if it were going to fall apart. After debating whether I should look out the window, I decided to roll over and I went to sleep again. This morning when I waked, I wasn’t certain whether I’d dreamed it all or whether there had been an explosion. But I found out shortly there had been one and it was real enough. Not far from the hotel, one of the plane bombs had landed on a paved road in a park and exploded. I examined the damage carefully. Since it was all open ground there and after midnight, no one was hurt and the visible damage was otherwise slight. A brick wall edging the park road (a wall about eight feet high) was knocked flat for a length of 180 feet. Every tree within a radius of 100 feet had lost all its leaves, together with some branches cut by shrapnel, but beyond that radius the leaves even were intact. The crater was amazingly small – hardly two feet deep and not over fifteen feet across, but then the pavement was evidently strong and the blast had expended itself upward. There was no evidence of fire.
To my knowledge, that was the only pilotless plane bomb that reached London in over 24 hours. A view of the results would have made Hitler sick. About 20 trees stripped of leaves, a section of old garden wall knocked flat, a small hole in the pavement, easily repairable in a day, and a lot of broken window glass in the nearby streets – only that as a result of his secret weapon for a whole day. I enclose a clipping on the subject. Between our fighters knocking them down and our bombers knocking out their launching platforms, I don’t think this secret weapon is going to be heard of much longer.
It was quite cold today, so my topcoat came in handy. Even the English say they can’t remember a June like this. All of which is no help, for the Channel weather has been unfavorable most of the time since D-day.
I came back from France on an LST carrying 250 wounded and I learned something. Ten of the "wounded" didn’t have a scratch; they would have been called shell-shocked in the last war. In this one they are suffering from neuroses. Of the lot, about half had been through plenty but oddly enough they (that half) had practically to be dragged aboard the LST as they wanted to go back to their units in spite of what the doctors thought. The other half were unquestionably half insane with fright – one in particular could not talk coherently and looked as wild-eyed as if a ghost were after him. The doctors thought their imaginations had run riot with them and doubted that any of the second half would ever be of any value in a combat job. I looked at them and tried to be charitable, but I like to see a person dressed like a man act as if he were one. I don’t blame anyone for being afraid of danger, but he ought at least make an effort to stand up to it. It is distressing to see a male carried off on a stretcher, gibbering with fear when he hasn’t even been touched.
Then there was another batch of ten cases all of whom (except one) had shot themselves "accidentally." The one exception admitted he had shot himself through the ankle deliberately. He looked like a plain rat. The others varied in personality, but it is highly improbable there was any accident in any of their cases.
So that accounted for 20 out of 250. Most of the others, wounded mainly by shrapnel, but some by machine gun or rifle fire, were quiet men who took their wounds uncomplainingly, discussed the actions they’d been in, and confessed that in spite of lots of training, they’d been at fault themselves in not keeping covered when they might have. But they said everybody was learning fast. Some of those men had been in England 19 months waiting for the invasion!
In my opinion, Rommel is not doing as well as was expected of him in his defense. I think he is going to be knocked out of France more quickly than was anticipated. He is having trouble enough now, but wait till that vicious brute Patton gets after him, in addition to Bradley and Montgomery.
With love, Ned
Letter #25 June 22, 1944
Lucy darling:
A quiet day, and quite undistinguished because it brought no letter from you. That makes it just another day.
We had several air alerts, but all I heard was one flying bomb about noon which I judge exploded about a mile away. Early this evening, a formation of about fifty Liberators flew over the city homeward bound (for planes to cross the city is quite rare) flying very high, their aluminum bodies and wings glistening beautifully in the rays of the setting sun, a gorgeous sight. One plane, however, lagged behind the formation, a trail of smoke streaming from one engine. He kept his altitude, however, and I earnestly hope he made his home field.
I’m having rather a quiet time just now, working on plans for Act II. I’ll probably not have anything very active to do for several weeks, so I’ll get plenty of rest after a salty month in the Channel.
A copy of the June Reader’s Digest landed in our office here, and I’ve been reading the abbreviated book on Justice Holmes, "Yankee From Olympus." I was particularly struck by the quotation which forms the concluding paragraph. I heartily agree with him and I have always felt that the only real satisfaction one gets from a task is the inner satisfaction of realizing that on it he has done his best, not the rewards that may or may not come from a capricious world.
I trust the change of scene is doing your mother much good, and I know her presence with you is doing you good. I trust she can stay quite a while both for her sake and yours.
With love, Ned
P.S. The last letter I received from you was #32 yesterday.
Also I asked yesterday to have the financial pages of any issue of a recent N.Y. Times (except Sunday) sent me. I’d like to check the general financial situation. And by the way, has Commonwealth and Southern ever come to any decision as to what they expect to do in the way of a stock redistribution
Letter #26 June 23, 1944
Lucy darling:
Your #33 arrived today, ten days in transit, which is fair. Missing are 12 and 31. 12 is lost, I think, chasing me around southern England. 31, I imagine was also sent there before I could get reforwarding stopped after my return, but it will probably be returned.
I’ve written Mary four letters, including one last night. I think the first three got caught in the holdup, but they should start to come through.
Dan Noce left England before I got here. He ought to be back home quite a while ago.
I doubt whether we have to worry any longer about counter attacks by Rommel. I think he has about everything he can get up to the line there now and he’s not making any progress. Monty is holding him off at one end of the line while Bradley finishes off Cherbourg at the other end, and the only worrying that anyone is called on to do is by Rommel who is no doubt worrying plenty as to where he’ll catch it next when Bradley’s army is released after the capture of Cherbourg. And meanwhile our forces are building up to greater strength all the time. Rommel is going to catch it worse this time than he did in Libya and Tunisia.
And I further think there is going to be an awful let down in German morale when the Nazis there come to (Ed: learn) that Goebbels has been feeding them the worst mess of lies yet about the effects of the flying bombs. I have an idea the Germans were clutching at the secret weapon as their last straw. They are practically delirious over what they think it’s done to England, and when they realize it hasn’t done any more than kill about as many people a day as are bumped off daily around New York in automobile accidents, their reaction is going to be very bad.
Last night they had their best night in a week with the bombs. So far as I could judge, about four got through. One woke me up at 2 a.m., the motor roaring very plainly. It’s an odd feeling, I’ll admit, when you hear one. As long as you hear the jet motor, everything is all right – the thing is still in flight, and if the noise fades gradually away, you know it’s not going to land in your vicinity. But when the motor noise suddenly stops – that’s something else. For then in a few seconds, it’s going to crash. And that’s something to make your heart skip a few beats. The one last night suddenly went dead silent while the exhaust was easily in loud volume and therefore somewhere near, and in less than a couple of seconds later it exploded. Still I guess it landed over a mile away for the concussion wasn’t bad. Even at that, it more or less spoiled my night’s sleep, for once I wake up at night, I don’t get solidly to sleep again. As a result, I heard about three more before dawn, none so plainly, though.
Changing the subject, my financial position here is quite sound. I’ve got about $400 in cash, with which I’m going to open an account in the Berkeley Square branch of the Chase National Bank here. (This includes the $150 I brought with me.) In addition, I’ll have coming to me about $180 on the paymaster’s books on my pay account as of July 1, which I’ll leave there since I don’t need it. This satisfactory state of affairs is mainly due to the fact that living in an English seashore cottage in the off season proved to be dirt cheap, while my per diem stayed up. Now I’m back in the metropolis, I’ll just about come out even for a while, but meanwhile I have quite a reserve for a rainy day, even if I never save any more.
With love, Ned
10:30 p.m. and the air raid alert sirens are just starting to wail again. I guess another bomb got by the Tempests patrolling the South coast.
Later: nothing happened.
Letter #27 June 24, 1944
Lucy darling:
I have just received an urgent order to proceed for the far shore where I was before. I imagine I’ll be gone about a week, during which I won’t get any mail since I’m not having it forwarded for fear of loss. However, I should be able to write from there with usual results.
Love, Ned
Letter #28 June 27, 1944
Lucy darling:
I am being more permanently assigned now for my specialty on the far shore. As I told you in a brief note, #26 (Ed: #27), I was ordered here on very short notice June 24 to cover an emergency situation, but it will require attendance here for some time, and I guess I’ll be on this side for good from now on, though not necessarily on this station later.
This has been a lousy summer so far for weather, as everybody knows over here, including the Germans. The weather has set us back far worse than the enemy. I’m going to have plenty to do for a while. If you’ll remember the episode which occurred the week after we bought The Anchorage (Ed: their summer cottage in Manset, ME) and the night we had dinner with Mrs. DeLong (Ed: Mrs. Emma DeLong, wife of the Arctic explorer) and Stefansson (Ed: the Arctic explorer), you’ll get a mild idea of the situation I’m to play with.
The days here are very long. The sun rises about 6 a.m. and doesn’t set till about 10 p.m. (due to double summer time) so I may squeeze in some time for reading to take my mind off work when the sun has set. As a complete change, I’d like to relax with Hell on Ice (Ed: his book about the DeLong expedition to the Arctic), which I think a rereading of would help in reminding me that other peoples troubles were worse than any here. I’m asking for that particularly, because when I’ve finished it, I’d like to pass it along to a Major General Gale of the British Army who mentioned it to me in Algiers, saying he intended to get a copy when he got home. I met him in London a couple of weeks ago and he reminded me of it, saying he’d tried to buy it in London but couldn’t find it, and I promised him then I’d get a copy from home for him. Don’t send the Armed Services edition but the regular one, since it’s to be a gift when I’m through with it.
With love, Ned
P.S. Cherbourg fell today. Thank God I’m to have nothing to do with it.
Letter #29 June 29, 1944
Lucy darling:
I am just shoving off for my fifth crossing, southbound this time. I have been detached from my original assignment under which I arrived, and assigned as (my specialty) on the staff of the newly designated flag officer for what we have and what we expect to acquire. I made a flying (not literally) trip to London to wind up my affairs there and get my clothes, and now after only a few hours there, I’m on my way back to the far shore.
My mail address remains the same. Mail will be forwarded (I hope). But I’m afraid a change will only result in worse confusion.
In a great measure, my London trip was a flop. First, some four or five letters from you they were holding in the London office were forwarded yesterday when I was detached in my absence. I hope I’ll find them awaiting me on the far shore. Second, my baggage which arrived in Scotland June 6, and for which about June 20 a truck was sent up (for a special pickup) couldn’t be located there, is not in London, and some day may be found. It’s probably under a mountain of other stuff, or just plain bogged down in transit. If ever I move again, I want to go on a ship with my stuff with me. Then practically all the laundry I couldn’t do for four weeks went to the laundry from my London hotel ten days ago, and is not ready yet. So I couldn’t get that either. I’m down to about one pair of sox and one khaki uniform that looks like hell already.
Since my assignment is technically one afloat, my per diem stops as of today. However, of course I’ll get quarters on one of my ships and I think be provided for in the general mess, so I shouldn’t have any expenses. My financial situation gives me quite a cushion. I have $300 in the Chase National Bank (Berkeley Square branch), $148 due me tomorrow on the paymaster’s books for pay, about $35 additional due on subsistence account, and $110 in cash with me. So my European assets total about $593, which should more than take care of any possible needs till I’m home again. Aside from the above, I will have coming about $70 a month more on my pay account, which alone will more than cover expenses in the future.
I enclose a clipping from the Stars and Stripes of June 27. This will indicate why my presence on that beach is desirable. If the enemy had done a tenth the damage to our ships that this clipping mentions, Goebbels would be screaming yet (and rightly) of a tremendous German victory. So I’ll be busy there a little while. There is always lots of excitement on our beach, (which was the scene of the main American landing) where we suffered more casualties on D-Day than on any other beach, and also more than in the whole campaign since. It’s a good place to be careful, because German mines are still being exposed by shifting sands and every once in a while, one gets touched off.
I’m crossing on a small coast guard cutter, hence the letterhead. Five days ago I crossed on another of the same class, when its skipper a young Coast Guard ensign by the name of Peter Chase told me he had often raced against me at Northeast Harbor, he being on the A30 as crew. To top off, it appears that he is now the owner of "May Mischief" which he bought from Malcolm McDuffie. It’s a small world.
The capture of Cherbourg winds up the second phase of the invasion. I shan’t have anything to do with that port.
A few days ago I went through Isigny and Carentan. Unlike Bayeux, both had been severely pounded by naval guns firing at long range for troop support, and the centers of both towns were badly smashed, Carentan especially. I just have an idea the Normandy villages are not too enthusiastic about being liberated, for many of them it has meant having their homes shot to pieces, in an area where before in this war there has been no fighting whatever, and where from all appearances, food has always been plentiful for the population during the occupation. It is interesting to note that the Free French have hastened to explain that conditions in Normandy are not typical of the rest of France, for many an allied soldier has lifted his eyebrows in astonishment over a situation where the French shops overflowed with food in abundance, completely unrationed, and particularly steaks. There is a devil of a difference between here and Algeria, where the French workmen were always hungry and the country stripped of everything. In Normandy at least, I see few signs of the enthusiastic welcome we got in Algeria, and there are good reasons to believe that some of the stories of French snipers, especially women French snipers, are true. There is no opposition, but there is also no enthusiasm – not in Normandy. The French resistance movement must have its centers elsewhere.
In my last letter, I asked you to send me a copy of Hell on Ice. In case that letter miscarries, I repeat the request here. A copy of that (regular edition) will just about exactly fill the bill for reading here and for a gift afterwards to a Major General Gale of the British Army who manifested a keen interest in it in Algiers nearly two years ago, but who hasn’t been able to find a copy in England.
With love, Ned
Letter #30 July 2, 1944
Lucy darling:
I wrote you a few days ago crossing the Channel, and possibly misnumbered the letter as 27 when it should have been 28. I didn’t have my check list with me then.
Since returning here, I have been quite busy, but I expect things will ease off somewhat now.
Yesterday I made a quick trip from here to captured Cherbourg to look over the place as a matter of professional interest. I must say the Germans are slipping badly. So far as wreckage in the harbor is concerned, the damage is slight. Compared to the Mediterranean ports I have seen, it is nothing at all. As against Oran or Massawa for instance, it could well be considered practically unsabotaged. Ashore the Germans pretty well blew up most of the dockyard shops and damaged the drydock caissons (these are not floating docks) but from a military viewpoint, I should say the damage won’t hurt us much as we don’t much need what was damaged. There are, of course, an unknown but suspected considerable quantity of mines in the harbor which must be swept out before the harbor is usable. No doubt you’ve read all this in the papers. The town of Cherbourg is practically undamaged, either by battle or by the Germans, which is in great contrast to the towns leading to it, of which I found Valognes especially terribly smashed by artillery and bombs.
Cherbourg is naturally a fortress easily defended and protected on the land side by high cliffs crowned with forts. If the Germans couldn’t defend Cherbourg from capture, they can’t hope to defend anything. By all accounts, they fought hard, but they were mashed by the weight of our fire, our air attack, and, I may say, our generalship.
Rommel, I see, is making the same strategic mistake at Caen he made at El Alemain, letting a major battle take place with his opponent’s supply line practically at his back, while he (Rommel) fights a long way from his own. He’ll pay for it. It’s a damned sight easier for Montgomery to smash his enemy at Caen than it would be for him a couple of hundred miles inland and far from his own beachhead supply. When Rommel falls back from Caen, his army is going to be what is known as decimated. Day before yesterday a huge flight of Fortresses flew directly over our beachhead headed for Caen. There must have been at least 200 of them aside from fighters. Fifteen minutes later at most they flew over again, northward bound to cross the Channel. In that brief time they had been over the enemy, unloaded, and started home. If that flight had dropped bombs on us, it would have obliterated everything on our beachhead harbor. I can imagine what those bombs did to Rommel and all his supply lines. 45 minutes at most from their home fields puts our bombers over Rommel’s head, and I’ll bet he’s having a hell of a time. But it will be worse before long.
The weather is perhaps typical Normandy. It rains every day, sometimes very hard. Today was warm for a change, but still it rained.
As I told you in my last, some five letters from you were rerouted via a changed number a week ago and haven’t yet arrived. The Lord knows when they’ll get here. I’m afraid the dispatch to France is going to bungle the mail terribly. The last letter of yours I have is #33 received June 23. Nothing since.
As I mentioned before, I shall have nothing to do with Cherbourg and don’t expect to get there again.
I noted the natives on the Cherbourg peninsula seemed much gladder to see the Americans than the Normandy peasants back of our beachheads. Those on the Cherbourg peninsula reminded me more of the French in Oran.
I hope from now on I’ll have somewhat more time to write. And the situation by and large looks quite hopeful, better than I had any sound reason to expect before D-Day.
With much love, Ned
Letter #31 July 4, 1944
Lucy darling:
I haven’t yet had anything from you since your #33. My own mail has been trying to catch up with me for nearly two weeks with no success yet. I’ve changed back and forth across the Channel so that it’s missed me on both sides. Now I’m back at Navy 100, have instructed the mail clerk to deliver here and not forward anymore, so I hope to get a letter soon.
I was just transferred back yesterday and after my sixth crossing (which was very rough for a small craft), I arrived here today to find that yesterday a dispatch had come from Bu. of Personnel to the following general tenor: "Newspaper story states Captain Edward Ellsberg 8713 USNR narrowly escaped death in jeep accident. Report if injured and extent of injuries."
The office here answered today to the general effect that I wasn’t injured and I sent you a cable today as follows: "Perfectly well. Never injured. Love."
What happened was the following: About D+5 or 6, I was going up a French road about a quarter of a mile inland from our main beach, in a jeep with another officer. The road was a rather narrow paved road with stone walls each side, with two or three feet of grass each side between the paving and the stone walls. A white tape marker was run on top of the stone walls both sides, showing that the road shoulders had been searched for mines each side out to the tapes, the search having been made by the army engineers with detectors.
We met a six-wheeled army truck coming towards us. As there was not room where we were for the truck to pass, we stopped, and as search or no search, I had no desire to veer off onto the grass, we backed up about a hundred feet to where the road pavement widened a little and stopped there for the truck to pass. As the truck approached, it swung out to its right to pass us. The front wheels and the driver’s cab passed all right, but as the forward rear axle (both rear axles have double tires and are consequently wider than the front axle) came abreast us, there was a roaring explosion and the truck came to a sudden stop.
Both of us in the jeep were plastered with sand and mud and my eardrums were ringing badly but when I found I was still in one piece, I hopped out to see what had happened to the truck driver. As he was farther from the explosion than I was, he was uninjured also but standing dazed in the road. I then examined the truck. Both tires on the right forward rear axle were torn to bits, the steel wheels were ripped to bits, and the stone wall alongside those wheels had completely vanished for a length of about eight feet. In addition there was a fair hole in the ground where the mine had been.
As I figure it, the single front wheel had passed safely, but the double rear tires, protruding sideways further, had touched off the mine. Fortunately for all of us, the truck was very heavy and as the wheels were right over the mine when it exploded, the blast went both ways sideways without coming up, ripping out the stone wall on one side and passing under our jeep on the other.
A more careful look showed the after rear axle of the truck still reasonably intact, so as the road was blocked, I told the army driver to try to drive his truck clear on that, but he’d had enough and refused to get back in the truck so we drove the truck out for him. It went fairly well to an open spot near the beach where we all left it. It was somewhat damaged underneath in addition to the sagging axle.
Now I told that episode to various other officers to warn them that even searched roads were still dangerous and to keep them off the road shoulders. I never expected it would receive any publicity, and can’t see why it did. What the "newspaper story" that Bupers. referred to said I don’t know yet. The above are the facts. I wasn’t hurt in that accident; neither was anyone else. The only casualty was the truck. Even the jeep, which was only eight feet from the explosion, ran all right afterwards.
I wrote Mary briefly of this occurrence, but I didn’t mention it to you because I expected to tell you of it at greater length when I got home. I’m sorry the damned thing got in the papers in any form at all for it might (from what I know of newspaper inaccuracy) have sounded very alarming.
I’ve seen plenty of the effects of German mines on and off the beaches and they’ve caused us plenty of trouble. I hope every Nazi has to sit on exploding mines in hell throughout eternity.
With love, Ned
P.S. As I’ve left the other side and may be busier over here, I’ll have less time for reading, so you needn’t bother to send the book I asked for unless you’ve already sent it.
Letter #32 July 5, 1944
Lucy darling:
Today I received the first letter from you in two weeks since I received your #33. #43, a V-mail letter, arrived today. For your information, I am sure it took longer than your airmail #42, which you mention as going in the same mail or the regular mail letter to go also at the same time. The only reason I got your #43 V-mail and not the others is that the others probably beat it here several days at least and were forwarded to France, while the V-mail 43 arrived after I returned and stopped the forwarding yesterday.
The letters missing are #12 and 31 from some time back, and letters from 34 to 42, both inclusive. The lot from 34 to 42 were forwarded to the far shore in a very roundabout manner and may take weeks to get returned to me (if they ever do). If there was any special information or requests in any of them, you’d better repeat it in your next letter.
I have unfortunately for mail purposes not been in any one place either long or predictably. The last time I went over, I expected to stay at least a month, and instead stayed only four days. That created a tough situation for me in another way, for all my laundry for a month (including most of my khaki uniforms) wasn’t ready when I went south, so I left orders to have it forwarded. It was, last Saturday, too late to reach me on the far shore before I returned here, so now it’s there and I’m here, and I’m down to my last two white shirts and two pairs of socks. Heaven knows whether in the turmoil on the far shore it will be sent back here as I asked. To top off all, my baggage sent by the Navy Yard, which arrived in Scotland June 9, can’t be found anywhere nor even any shred of a record concerning it, except the fact it arrived on a certain ship on June 9. They’ve been trying to trace it since June 20, with no luck so far. I livened up the search when I got back yesterday, but it doesn’t look hopeful.
I have firmly resolved in the future to do all my own laundry so it doesn’t get out of my hands, and to travel only by ship so I can carry all my baggage with me. But when it comes to the mail, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave that in the hands of God.
There are a few compensations. I have had two periods now of a week each when I have come back to London with little to do there, so I could rest. That has broken up the periods of activity.
So far I have made six crossings of the Channel, three of them in small tubs only about 70 feet long. The little ones are bad actors in Channel weather, but even they haven’t made me seasick, and they have one great advantage – they are of such shallow draft that they could hardly hit a mine, and that’s a lot, for mines are our major danger. Practically all our losses afloat have been from mines, though even there, the losses have been far below our expectations. But when you see a sizable ship hit a mine and vanish before your eyes in a few minutes, it makes you thoroughly sick.
I note from the last line of your V-mail #43 "But I wait with an anxious heart to know whether you were injured last Sunday" that it is a probable reference to the newspaper story which formed the basis of the Bu. Personnel enquiry cable.
When I learned of that yesterday on arrival here, I cabled you directly, as I wrote you yesterday in #30 (Ed: #31). I repeat here in case that letter goes astray, I repeat here I was not injured except my ears rang all the rest of the day.
You may have referred to that episode in the missing letters. If you have a spare copy of the newspaper story, you might send me a clipping, since I haven’t yet seen what got published (and I never gave out anything for publication).
The weather is and has been abominable all through June. It has particularly helped Hitler with those damned flying bombs, for in clear weather, day or night, the fighters can see them and knock most of them down, but in rain and low clouds, they have a better chance of getting through. I have heard five explosions this afternoon and evening, two of them not far off. And I saw my first flying bomb this afternoon, going by about a quarter of a mile away at perhaps 1000 feet elevation. It looked like just what I’d heard, a small, fast plane, flying low with engine roaring. It went out of sight over some nearby buildings, when the engine cut out shortly thereafter and in about five seconds more it exploded, perhaps about a mile away judging by the concussion.
This is a good evening for the bombs, with low clouds and some rain.
I have a radio set at last. I tried unsuccessfully for nearly two months to buy one in England, but they just aren’t available. I finally acquired a portable radio set as part of the spoils of war from the Cherbourg naval arsenal, along with a German tin hat nicely decorated with a swastika. The radio set is a French one, which the Nazis probably confiscated from some poor Frenchman. It’s a fair set (long wave only) but it works on both 110 and 220 volts, which is a great advantage, as I used it both in France when I got it, and now in England on the higher voltage. I can now listen to Lord Haw-haw and other lovely English and American voices, male and female, broadcasting from Germany to the invasion forces in dulcet tones, singing nostalgic songs and ending each broadcast with the set line, "Don’t you realize all your sacrifices are only to advance Jewish power politics directed from Washington and Moscow?"
It is an interesting development of the Rhein-madchen theme to hear these modern sirens out of Germany endeavoring to seduce their listeners once again with their songs in the best Wagnerian manner.
Poor Hitler, that shining knight of the pure heart and the high purpose, beset by the evil minions, on the Normandy beaches, of the sinister Jewish power politicians in Moscow and Washington! How my heart bleeds for him!
In between the broadcasts to the invasion troops they spill insidious poison in other programs following Hitler’s old policy of dividing his enemies by playing on their mutual suspicions. Last night there was a program to England on how the Yankee capitalists were digging themselves in in South Africa and North Africa. And another on how both the U.S. and Britain were being made catspaws of Stalin’s communists. It’s an interesting thing to listen to Goebbel’s agents suavely going about their business of dividing to conquer. So far as the troops are concerned, they are wasting their time. But on the civilians? The Lord only knows. People are such fools! Have they convicted those 30 American Nazis in Washington yet? Or has American justice got itself so tangled in solicitude for the accused that it cannot protect itself against its avowed destroyers?
With love, Ned
Letter #33 July 6, 1944
Lucy darling:
I received your #48 (June 28) and #50 (June 29) this morning. Being here has some advantages as the mail gets prompt delivery. Your #50 was postmarked at Westfield June 30, 12:30 p.m. I note both letters had only regular mail stamps. As I learned before, letters get the fastest dispatch, regardless of stamps on them. V-mail takes about four or five days longer.
As regards Cherbourg, as the clippings you sent me indicate, there is relatively little to do there. As the clippings also noted, Sullivan is in Cherbourg, and except for a professional interest inspection I made there, I have nothing to do with it. I worked the main beachhead, both in the early days and right after the freak storm, which as the papers noted, did us far more damage than the Germans have in the whole campaign. However, we have our beachheads working more than full blast again, at a capacity which Cherbourg never approached in its palmiest peace time days, and which I doubt it can ever approach. But for the present, I’m through with the beaches and back in my original station where I’m getting a rest this week (maybe longer).
At long last my baggage has finally been actually located at a Scotch port. I’m promised once again it will receive special attention in transport here. We’ll see. I earnestly hope it gets here before I shove off again. Now if I can only retrieve the laundry that is chasing me over the French beachheads, I’ll be all together (materially only; spiritually, I’m in two pieces).
I’m glad to hear that Mr. Loveland succeeded in delivering that bottle of perfume. He’s a nice chap, and if you manage to see him on your visit to Washington, I’m sure you’ll enjoy talking with him. He did a fine job over here with the tugs.
Missing letters to date are 12, 31, and all the letters after 33 except 43, 48, and 50.
Under separate cover (numbered #32) (Ed: #34) I am sending you a copy of today’s Evening Standard which contains in full Churchill’s speech on the flying bombs. The whole paper should interest you, as the other news items and editorials cast a light on life now in England. To save weight, I have cut out of it one page which does not contain any part of Churchill’s statement.
Churchill’s statement is true and accurate. In spite of absurd German statements (there have been plenty more today on the radio) there have been no fires in London as a result of these bombs, there are no signs of panic around here, and it is a fact that no target of military importance has been touched. People are getting killed (about 100 a day) but they are practically all civilians in their homes, churches, or hospitals. So far as they can be aimed at all, the bombs seem to be directed against the residential section.
When the weather is good, very few bombs get through. Today (which has been very fine since morning) I haven’t heard a single bomb. Yesterday (when the weather was bad) I heard perhaps two dozen in twenty-four hours, with five explosions within ten minutes.
It doesn’t directly effect the war, but when 100 civilians a day get killed around here, it can hardly be said the place isn’t dangerous. My admiration for the Londoners goes up, however, as I observe them. It takes more than danger to chase them off their jobs.
But it hurts. People I know (in a way) around here are getting killed. A couple of weeks ago, an elderly lady in this hotel who always came down to breakfast with a blue feather boa round her neck, was killed on a Sunday morning in a nearby chapel where she went to services that morning (together with 116 others in the chapel. The rector, protected from (Ed: the) blast by the pulpit perhaps, was about the only person who came out of the chapel alive). That happened three blocks from here. And day before yesterday, when I got back from France, I noted the head waiter (who always served me) was missing. I wondered casually a bit about it, but without attaching any significance. Later I learned that the afternoon before he had (as usual) gone to his own house for a rest after lunch (he lives a few squares away). A flying bomb crashed the house, killing him and his two daughters, and putting his wife in the hospital. A son, working out, escaped any injury. That poor head waiter, a fine Englishman, had fought through World War I, but was too old to bear arms in this one. But he died on the front lines, all the same.
England will not forget nor forgive so easily this time. Neither will the Americans here in London with them. And I like to listen to the master race on the radio squirming and squealing (no longer arrogant) trying to seduce American soldiers with their poisonous lies, and I like to be reminded every evening hour by a voice in cultured English, "Do you realize all your sacrifices are at the direction of Jewish power politics in Washington and Moscow?"
It keeps me in a proper frame of mind.
I also hear by the radio tonight that Rundstadt has been bounced as C. in C. on the western front by der Fuehrer (sic). Bring on the next victim for Monty’s steam roller. (See attached clipping). It appears as if some of God’s enemies are getting scattered already. (Notice Monty’s shield in the center of the floral arrangement). I’m glad your mother could stay with you so long. I trust she goes back to Willimantic much rested.
And I’m also glad you’re going down to visit Dora, except it’ll be hot down there. I presume you’ll have a chance to see Mary and Ned in their own post. Give ‘em both my love.
It is pleasing to hear that the allotment trouble was finally corrected satisfactorily. When you get a chance, I’d like to hear what your financial position looks like. I suppose you bought the $1,000 bonds you mentioned in the 5th War Loan.
I had myself weighed today. I weigh about 160 lbs. (stripped) now, which is about 10 lbs. less than when I went. I seem to have lost most of it around my stomach and in my face (especially under my chin). I could stand somewhat more, if necessary, but this isn’t bad. I’ve got a tan like an Indian from a month and a half in the Channel.
I took the afternoon off to call on the Mitchells at 9 Hammersmith Terrace, but it was wasted. They don’t live there any more. A neighbor told me that Ayla took the children and went to Ireland during the blitz four years ago. She’s been back only once on a brief visit a year ago. Her husband (he was an architect) went into the army but was invalided out several years ago as a nerve case (shell-shock, I suppose). He is supposed to be in London now working with perhaps the same firm, but the neighbor didn’t know it’s name. I’ll try to find him if I can.
To repeat, in case previous letters and my cable weren’t delivered yet, I wasn’t injured in that explosion on the Normandy beachhead.
With much love, Ned
Letter #34 Postmarked July 7, 1944
Newspaper clippings only.
Letter #35 July 7, 1944
Lucy darling:
Your #49, a V mail, came today. This leaves 12, 31, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 44, 45, 46 and 47 missing. I imagine these have all gone, except the first two, to the beachhead and may ultimately be returned here.
I mentioned yesterday that Rundstadt had been bounced. The belief here is that there was a difference of opinion between Rundstadt, who wanted to fall back inland for defense, and – (I just saw my second flying bomb pass nearly overhead. This one passed fairly close and low, but kept on going. I didn’t hear any explosion. It must have landed some miles beyond.) Rommel, who wanted the main defense on the beaches. Rundstadt is out, but I think he was right. Rommel is making the same mistake he made at El Alemain – fighting a long way from his own base while his enemy enjoys short supply lines. It’s easier to mash the German army close to English bases than across some hundreds of miles of French territory, as Rommel will learn before too long. Particularly he is a damned fool to fight within range of battleship guns, as he does at Caen, for if he starts an offensive he’ll be smashed, and if he stays on the defensive, that will suit Montgomery fine as it keeps Rommel off while Bradley breaks through in the west. (Another flying bomb went off just then about a mile off. That makes the third one this evening. There haven’t been many today.)
The German radio is lying like hell about our losses. They say we’ve lost 1000 tanks, 900 of them on D-Day. Goebbels is working his imagination overtime. We didn’t lose a dozen to the enemy on D-Day, and not such a lot because of bad weather. And every day now we lose half a dozen destroyers and cruisers to the German Navy. That’s a good laugh. I’ve crossed the Channel six times now without seeing a sign of the German Navy or Luftwaffe; neither has anybody else. No vessel of the Nazi navy has ever got farther than the outer edges of our screens before they’ve had to turn and flee. We have had some mine losses, but compared to the traffic and what we expected, they’ve been trifling. But the Germans are broadcasting the most outrageous lies in their efforts to impress the neutrals, intimidate their shaky satellites, bolster up their home morale, and possibly scare Americans back home over the (supposed) terrible losses in the invasion.
The invasion losses have been slight compared to what was honestly anticipated. The Union Army lost far more in the one battle of Gettysburg than we’ve lost so far in a month’s battling in Normandy.
Things are looking up a bit with me. Today I actually received my trunk and suitcase from Scotland. On unpacking them, I found that missing box of cigars in the trunk. I’m especially glad to get my technical books. The woolen army trousers, I find, I can now get on again; I've shrunk enough around the waist and hips for that. Just now I don't need them, though, nor the woolen underwear either. A blue uniform (standard in this town for summer) is just comfortable. The white shirts came in the nick of time. The white uniforms will not, I believe, get worn at all.
I concluded it’s safest to do my own laundry, even in a hotel, so today I bought myself an electric flat iron for the absolutely necessary ironing of the cuffs and bosoms of white shirts. I got, I think, the only electric iron in town. Selfridge’s clerk, after looking me over when I enquired, dragged the solitary one they had out of concealment (a la bootleg days) and decided to let me have it – sixteen shillings. This evening I ironed the shirt I washed last night – strictly a wartime ironing job, cuffs and front only. Lucy Giles (Ed: their housekeeper; actual spelling is Jiles) would laugh. Now if my laundry (for which I’ve already paid one pound) would only come back from France, I’d be on easy street.
I visited the dentist this morning for a long overdue scraping of my teeth. (Another bomb just went off – about two miles away, I judge).
That bit in your letter of June 29 about saving the perfume to put a drop behind each ear when I got home so you could feel I was close enough to you to enjoy it with you, won’t do. I’ll have to get closer than that, perfume or no perfume. I have to have your heart beating against mine before I feel you are half way close enough. We are only close enough when lips and bodies and eyes and souls are all melted together in one inseparable ecstasy – may that be soon! How I long to be bathed in your smiles, caressed by your breasts, revel in your kisses, and once again to be swallowed up in your burning embrace, enveloped in your loving arms, and make you one with me!
Ned
Letter #36 July 8, 1944
Lucy darling:
I came to my desk this morning to find my incoming basket loaded with letters – 16 of them to be exact – of which 9 were from you, 2 from Mary, and 5 from miscellaneous persons, of which last group I enclose one for your perusal when you have finished this letter. Don’t look at it yet.
Your letters received today were #31, 34, 35, 36, 37, 44, 47, 51, and 52. That leaves as missing now #12 (which I am afraid is definitely lost), 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 45 and 46. I imagine all except 12 will shortly be returned from France, as part of the lot received this morning already have been.
Of course I just reveled in that flood of your letters.
I see you’ve heard from Mary already I wasn’t hurt in Normandy, though you must know it now from other sources, including my cable. I didn’t mention it to you before, since as I wasn’t hurt, I thought I’d save the story till I got home. If I had been hurt, I would have let you know immediately, but to ease your mind against wondering whether anything is happening you are unaware of, in the future I’ll let you know whatever happens (if anything does).
If you are still with Dora and Lute when you get this, give them both my regards and tell them I also hope before too long to see their new home.
I received the N.Y. Times financial page. I’d appreciate having it sent about once a month. And by the way, when it’s convenient, please check the records and see whether we have 100 or 150 shares of General Motors. You’ll find the totals listed for each of us separately on some sheets in the "Investments" folder in the tin box in my study (or else the lists are in the safe deposit box).
It’s a pleasure to know the La Salle is shining again. I hope you get gasoline enough to use it occasionally.
They had a 5th War Loan drive over here, but I didn’t buy any, as I understand you have bought $1200 for both of us, and I think that’s a lot. Is that correct?
Sorry I missed Dow Mills at the Netley Hospital where I went nearly two months ago to have my heel x-rayed. I suppose he’s there yet, as it is the main American naval hospita |
