Grace Under Fire

by Andrew Carroll

  My son: You are missed in our home. There is a silence and a sadness because of your absence. Everything in the house reminds us of you. There are moments when it seems that we can hear your voice, singing your favorite songs. Your paintings, your sketches, your books, they all lie quietly where you left them upon your departure. They seem to move, impelled by invisible hands, to make more vivid, in my soul, the illusion of your presence. But you are far away…extremely far, from us, but yet, you are here with us, for we have you in our thoughts and in our hearts.

  My dear son: If it is in the Almighty’s great scheme of things, that you should be one of many heroes who meets death in battle, defending your flag and a noble ideal, I want you to know that to your father, as well as to your dear mother, who both love you very much, you will not die. You will still be alive in our minds and in our hearts. You will be living in our home, in which every object, every corner, every ray of light, will hold the memory of your presence.

  But let’s not talk of death, for you will live, my son, to return to our side, full of glory and satisfaction for having done your duty. You will return to enjoy a liberty won at a cost of bloody sacrifices and immense hardships, and then I will not care about anything except having you next to us, listening to you narrating your acts of heroism and bravery, and singing with you the hymn of Victory.

  Gabriel C. Navarro

  Like Navarro, whose son returned to him alive, the mother of Leonard Cesternino worried every day about her boy, and tried to focus on the joyful day when they would be together again. On December 1, 1943, Jennie Cesternino sent the following letter describing a dream of hers in which Leonard had finally come home and how elated she was to “see” him again. Unbeknownst to Mrs. Cesternino, Leonard had been killed in action in Italy on the very night, it is believed, his mother dreamed they were reunited. (Mrs. Cesternino was Italian herself, but she wrote the letter to her son in English, which was not her first language. Paragraph breaks have been added to make the letter easier to read.)

  Dear Lenny,

  Just writing to let you know we are all in good health hoping to hear the same from you. I didn’t get any mail for this week yet but today is only Wenesday so I’ll probaly have one by the end of this

  week you know Son I’m feeling happy today

  the reason is I dreamed about you last night and I saw you very plain in my dreams and that made me very happy

  it was just like really seeing you

  I dreamed you came in from work from Tony’s and you came in all smiles and you said to me Ma you better send my pants to the cleaners because I have a date for tonight

  it realy made me happy to see you even though it was only a dream and I hope and pray that this dream will come true and soon to see you come home from work and to be home for good this month will be Christmas and I hope God will be merciful and bring peace to the whole world

  and even though we are far apart Son do try and have a merry Christmass and we will do the same but no matter how far apart we are we will be together in thought

  I will be thinking of you every minuet of that day and will pray God to Bless and protect you till you come home safe back to me not that that’s the only day I think and pray for you every day of course you know that but on that day it will be more so being that it’s the first that you are away from home but I’m sure this war will be over soon and than we all will have something to be thankfull for so lets hope for the best O.K. Son don’t forget to let me know how you spent Christmass day and remember we are all Lovingly thinking of you

  Carmela and Sonny want me to say they Love you and Nicky hears them so he said so also

  Love from all take good care of your self and God Bless you with all my Love

  Mother

  Just as parents like Mrs. Cesternino were anxious about their son (or daughter) serving in a war zone, troops on the front lines worried about their family members in the States. In the spring of 1944, thirty-nine-year-old Captain Walter Hanley, a Catholic chaplain serving with an evacuation hospital in New Guinea, learned that his mother back in Ohio was extremely ill and had little hope of recovery. Hanley urgently appealed to his superiors for a leave, but he knew that there was almost no chance he would make it to his mother’s side before she died. The best he could do was write her a letter.

  April 1, 1944

  Dear Mama:

  The Red Cross called me last night about the cablegram concerning your condition. I inquired immediately about the chances of getting home. The army will not give permission to return home under any condition other than the regular rotation of troops. About the only chance I have is to get on some list going home, and there is not much of a chance that that will be before August. I will do all I can & Fr. Gearhard is trying to help me.

  You have been a good mother to us all, and all that we children have we owe to you. With Clarence’s and Papa’s deaths, your ill-health for years and the depression, your life has been a hard one—and yet your faith & your prayers have given you the strength to go on. When the train pulled out of the station I think you knew you would never see me again, and your strength has encouraged me all of these months. If God asks of you this sacrifice—for my work was needed here for these boys, I know you will have the strength to make it. The other priests here said their masses, as I did, this morning for you, and I know Almighty God will care for you.

  You do not need to worry about us children. James is happily married and is a good husband and father. Kathleen will always have a home and James & I will see to it that she will be taken care of. Whatever good I may be able to do in the priesthood will be a testimony of your prayers and your struggles to bring me there.

  I am thankful that you could have the good care of the sisters and St. Rita’s and all that the hospital can give you. I know that Papa and Clarence are waiting for you and that our prayers will be for you every day until you join them in heaven. I know you will ever be a loving mother to Kathleen, James and his family and myself.

  Your son, Walter

  Chaplain Hanley was, in fact, granted a leave. He made it home two days before his mother passed away, and he was able to be with her in her final moments.

  Technical Sergeant Joe Graser Advises His Younger Brother on What to Expect as He Prepares for Basic Training

  &

  First Lieutenant Dave Albrecht Reminds His Brother, an Infantryman Fighting in Germany, That “God is a Powerful Help [and Never] Forget to Call on Him!”

  While some parents had only one child in the armed services to worry about, many had several children in harm’s way. After seeing their oldest son, Joe, ship off to Europe with Patton’s 3rd Army, William Graser and his wife, Theresa, then watched as their youngest boy, Don, packed up for basic training and left their home in New Richmond, Ohio. (Don would later fight in the Pacific, and both boys, fortunately, would survive the war.) The Grasers could take comfort in the fact that Joe was looking after his younger brother and frequently offered him both military and spiritual advice. Stationed in England at the time, twenty-three-year-old Joe wrote his teenage brother on November 15, 1944, the following letter instructing him on how to be a first-rate soldier—and a man of integrity.

  Dear Don:

  I received word today that you took your physical, so if you are accepted by the Army, I imagine you will have been inducted by the time you get this. At any rate, I will presume that you are in or about to go. I have wanted to tell you a few things about Army life. It is almost impossible to recite all the short cuts, all the rackets, & all the little tricks, that can make things easier for you. No one can tell you these things, they must all be learned, unfortunately, by experience, that sometimes are very hard, & sometimes seems needlessly difficult.

  There will be times, especially at first, that you will think you never saw such bullheaded, roundabout, stupid men in your life. Many of these will be your superiors, & they will issue orders that contradict, cancel, reign you & your ideas of success. You will li
ve next to men, that represent types only known to you in the funny paper. Lots of these will have habits that are rare.

  You may be tempted to tell yourself that you have been around enough to see a little of everything & everybody, but I’m telling you, you will be surprised to see some of them.

  Remember this, the Army has a reason for everything it does, true, they attempt to doubt your intelligence to a certain degree, but only as a means of cooperation & teamwork.

  Family photograph taken in the fall of 1942 when Joe Graser came home on leave from basic training (from left to right): Don (brother), Theresa (mother), Joe, William (father), Margaret Breller (sister), and Peggy Breller (niece)

  Always think of that when things get pretty rough & you feel like sounding off. Blowing off steam to your superiors never got anybody anywhere here, or any place else. They have you sewed up backwards & front, & if you become too loud, about what you consider your rights, you will be in for a big let down. Accept what they give you in the same spirit as if it were Mom or Dad telling you something to do.

  This is about the men you will live with, and you will find that no matter how wrong any of them are, they all have real decent ideals in their hearts.

  Try to understand & appreciate all their various ways of living. I will go as far as to say that even more than in the store or school, the more friends you can make, the better off you will be, as you discover when you finally get into the field, and are entirely depending upon those around you. You will be surprised at how often little friendships can benefit you….

  The Army will always take care of you in such things as food, clothing & medical care, but to make your living conditions more plesant, will be all up to you.

  Be as kind and jolly as possible, for kindness & happiness will mean a lot to you, especially in your spare time.

  Always remember, what ever your job may be, it is just as important in winning the war, as that of a General.

  Something that keeps your mind off the tendency it will have toward complaining, & sweating out the things you see, is always keeping yourself in shape, & always looking ahead for methods of improving & making easy, the few hours you have to yourself. It is a true fact, that if you let yourself & equipment go down, your morale also goes with it. Take the time to keep it up to snuff, then you really can enjoy your spare time.

  You will do your share of griping about the lousy conditions of this & that, but in the long run, griping will just get you down & makes you feel worse than it ever did.

  As Mom always said you are judged by the company you keep, so don’t be to hasty at first with whom you run around with, wait a while then pick out a buddy or so.

  Another thing, always remember your a Catholic, you will see it’s very easy to give your religion up, while in the service, since no one is there to remind you about it, but always live the way you were brought up, over two years ago when I came in Mom told me, to be careful & never to disgrace my name, that is something that has always been on my mind, in whatever I do, & surely has been a guidance to me.

  At first your time will be very scarce, but never fail to drop the folks a line, even if its only a Hello, to let them know your OK, cause it is a terrible worry for both Mom & Dad when they don’t hear from us.

  Hope you don’t take this as a Sunday sermon, I don’t want it to impress you as such. You more than I perhaps have the facilities of hitting it off with anyone that comes along. Be at ease with everything, I know you will, never lose sight of the fact, no matter how bad things will get & they will, don’t think they won’t, that it is an honor to salute, stand retreat etc. A lot of guys will say your getting a raw deal, but these fellows can soon be recognized, & they just became a nuisantes.

  I wish you a lot of luck Don, I regret deeply the necessity of you having to leave home & do this but it makes me mighty proud to have you as a partner on this team, & its not so bad in the long run, believe me.

  Good Luck

  Joe

  At almost the same time that Technical Sergeant Joe Graser was in England, a twenty-three-year-old first lieutenant named Dave Albrecht was there, too, writing similar letters to his younger brother as well. While Dave was an officer in the Army Air Corps (predecessor to the U.S. Air Force), his brother Louie was a young private first class fighting in Germany. Dave was more concerned with his little brother’s well-being than his own, and in the fall of 1944 he wrote Louie the following letter.

  Dear Runt,

  I don’t know when I’ve been so glad to receive any letter as I was to receive yours of the 28th. It just got here today and I have been thinking you dead, crawling in snake infested jungles and many other unpleasant things. We in the Air Corps don’t have to experience that kind of life. You told me on the 14th not to write until I got a new address from you but maybe this will get to you.

  We just came back from a 48 hour pass. This time we went to Liverpool and Manchester. We rode the elevated train all along the docks and got a good look at some ocean going vessels. Then we rode the ferry from Liverpool to New Brighton and caught a Jeep for a ride through the tunnel back to Liverpool. The roof of the tunnel is just eighteen inches below the bed of the river and the river is probably seventy feet deep or better so you can imagine the pressure built upon the roof. I’ve forgotten my Physics enough so I can’t figure it off hand.

  We went to the stage play, “Junior Miss”, in the evening and really got a laugh out of it. So far we have seen five plays while we have been here. I enjoy them more every time I go.

  Last night was the party celebrating our 200th mission as a bomb group. It was quite a blow out with bands, liquor etc. But I came home early. I ate five steaks for supper myself and felt much too contented to play around all evening. I had a total of one beer to drink and that was my evening.

  But don’t get the idea that life over here is just a bed of roses. We see enough of the rough stuff too. Our bombardier has been killed, all of our boys have been hit by flak except myself and the radio operator. Our tail gunner was shot down with another crew but is safe in a hospital in Belgium. I’ve seen planes go down in flames and crash where fighters hit our planes and the havoc they create is hard to believe. I’ve seen flak so heavy and thick you could actually land on the smoke puffs—yet we always manage to come through some way. I’ve seen planes come home so badly beaten up they could not fly for one month, yet the battle really isn’t too bad. We don’t think of past missions and we never look forward to a mission as anything more than another number to chalk up on our credit side. We do live a pretty jolly life, everything being considered and I have enjoyed most of it.

  And believe me when I say that I, to whom religion meant not much of anything, receive the greatest comfort of all from knowing that the prayers of my wife and the folks are with me. God is a powerful help Runt: don’t ever forget to call on him!

  Patty is feeling fine and is getting more anxious every day for the arrival of our young one, I am anxious to know whether he will be a boy or girl.

  Take good care of yourself Runt. Your Brother, Dave.

  This was the last letter that Louie would receive from his brother; Dave Albrecht was gunned down only days later by enemy fire. Two months after Dave’s death, Louie himself was shot in the head. Luckily, the bullet only grazed the top of his skull and he was sent back into combat after a three-month recuperation in the hospital. In February 1946, Louie returned to their home state of Nebraska and became a teacher. He was called up again for the Korean War and, after surviving that conflict as well, later became an administrative executive in the YMCA.

  Chaplain George M.Phillips Writes to the Parents of a Fallen Hero and Assures Them That Their Son Never Lost His Faith in God

  &

  Chaplain H.E.Van Meter, Serving with the Marines in the Pacific, Writes Letters of Condolences to Two Parents Whose Sons Were Killed on Iwo Jima

  For troops on the front lines, no letter is harder to write than a message of condolence to the loved on
e of a fellow soldier, Marine, airman, or sailor who has died. As they stare at that blank piece of paper in search of the right thing to say, they are well aware that every word they put down will be read carefully by a mourning parent, spouse, or some other family member in need of comfort. Drafting the letter can be all the more heartbreaking if the writer, himself, was close to the deceased. On April 30, 1945, almost one week before the war in Europe was over, a young Army lieutenant named Donald Pound was killed when his platoon was pinned down by a German machine gun. Lieutenant Pound heroically directed the fire toward himself, allowing a second platoon to move into position and take out the machine gun nest. The regimental chaplain, Father George M. Phillips, had known the lieutenant well and sent the following letter to Pound’s family.

  Dear Mr. Pound:

  You have undoubtedly already received word of the death of your son, 2nd Lieutenant Donald J. Pound, O-549401. He was killed in action on the 30th of April, 1945 in Czechoslovakia.

  This is a very difficult letter for me to write because I knew Donald intimately. He introduced himself to me when I came into the Regiment, and he always was eager to help me in my work with the men. At Camp San Luis Obispo he served at a High Mass on the Feast of the Assumption. When the mission was held for the Division at Lompoc his assistance was invaluable. We came overseas on the same transport, and he served my Mass on board ship always receiving Holy Communion. Though days at the staging area were busy, he was conspicuously present at all services. Just a few days before his death I came to say Mass for his platoon. He assembled his men and served the Mass himself. In my experience there was no Catholic officer who ever practiced his faith more openly, and gave better example to his men in the reception of the sacraments, in attendance at Mass, and in the highest personal conduct than Lieutenant Pound. And the most striking part of it all his men admired him.