"So long kids, and if I never see you again, goodbye."

   In the highly charged political atmosphere of today, I recently remembered a quote from Erlyn Jensen.

   Erlyn is the kid sister of Don McCoy, who was a major in the 445th Bomb Group. Major McCoy was the command pilot on the ill-fated Kassel Mission bombing raid of 27 Sept. 1944, in which the 445th suffered the highest one-day losses for a single bomb group in 8th Air Force history.

   Erlyn said her mother blamed President Franklin Roosevelt for her son's death, because Roosevelt campaigned for reelection in 1940 on a promise that "our boys will not fight overseas."

   "That was his mistake," Erlyn said when I interviewed her in 2009, "ever making that promise."

   

   Myron Kiballa grew up in the coal mining town of Olyphant, Pennsylvania. After his father's death, his brother Gerry, five years his senior, became his father figure. Gerry "always had tough luck," Myron said when I interviewed him in 1996 for a book I was writing about Hill 122 in Normandy. "I remember I was just a kid, he's playing ball, and there was just a lot, and then the road. He hit a ball and he's running over first base, you couldn't stop, and sure enough, a car hit him, broke his leg. Then he got a trick knee. When I talked with Jim Rothschadl [the gunner in the tank in which Gerry Kiballa was the assistant driver], he told me, 'Did you know,' he said, 'your brother had a bad knee?'

   "I said, 'I certainly did.'

   "And he says, 'Boy, he struggled with it.' He said, 'You know that they wanted him to take a transfer out of the tank outfit and put him in the medical unit, and he said he wouldn't go. He said that if you want to release him altogether he'll go but he says he doesn't want to go to another outfit.'"

   Gerald Kiballa was one of nine crew members killed when four tanks of the 1st Platoon, C Company, of the 712th Tank Battalion ran into a group of concealed anti-tank guns after going to the rescue of an infantry battalion that was surrounded by elite German paratroopers on 10 July 1944.

   When Gerry was killed, Myron Kiballa was 19 and had just gotten out of the hospital in Italy after being wounded at Anzio.

   "When I got the letter from home," Myron said, "it was one of the most unpleasant letters of my life. Oh, gosh. It turned me into a person like if I was in the twilight zone. When I was reading that letter, it was a horrible letter. Gosh, I opened the letter and the first thing it says that your brother Gerry was killed. And going down the line they said that they haven't heard from my brother John for three months, they were afraid maybe something happened to him, too. He was in the Philippines with the infantry." (John, one of five Kiballa brothers who were in the service, survived the war, as did Myron's two other brothers.)

   

    "Now they've had it!" Newell Brainard, a co-pilot in the 445th Bomb Group, wrote in a letter to his mother and sisters upon learning that his brother Bill was a prisoner of war. "We'll go after those S-Bs and get Bill back with us. I just received Betty's letter in which she told me the good news. Of course it doesn't sound like good news to most people, but I'll settle for prisoner of war anytime. He will be treated all right, I am sure."

   On 27 Sept. 1944, the 35 B-24 Liberators of the 445th Bomb Group strayed off course and were ambushed by as many as 150 German fighter planes. In one of the most spectacular air battles of World War II, 25 bombers and many German fighters were shot out of the sky. Newell Brainard bailed out of his burning plane, but would never get the chance to become a prisoner of war. He landed in a labor camp, and was murdered by one of the guards.

   Quentin Bynum's mother, Mabel Claire Murphy Bynum, had a "tongue that could rival that of a mule skinner," said Quentin's younger brother James Bynum. The Bynums lived in Stonefort, Illinois, in the heart of the Ozarks. When Quentin was a few months old he came down with what most likely was diphtheria, of which there was an epidemic in 1919, following the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918. The local doctor pronounced him dead, but Quentin's mother, Mabel Claire Murphy Bynum, didn't mince words and barred the door when the doctor tried to leave, said James, relating family lore, as he had not been born yet. The doctor told Mrs. Bynum to warm the baby by the fire of the cookstove, and soon, Quentin came back from the dead.

   In 1987 I went to a reunion of my father's tank battalion from World War II. I found three veterans who remembered my dad, 2nd Lt. Maurice Elson, who died of a heart attack in 1980, and all the stories he told when I was a kid came back to life. One of the three, Jule Braatz, was the sergeant my father reported to as a replacement lieutenant.

   "We were in this field surrounded by hedgerows," Braatz said. "Usually battalion headquarters would assign replacements to a company, and I guess at that time I was the only one that had lost an officer, so they assigned him to my platoon.

   "Lieutenant [Ellsworth] Howard brought him over and introduced him to me and said, 'This is your new lieutenant,' and your dad was very candid and said, 'Hell,' he says, 'I don't belong here. I'm an infantry officer. I don't know anything about tanks.' And I says, 'Well, I'm gonna start to teach you.' So we got up on a tank and we got inside and I showed him this and that, and we got out, and we walked down the front of the tank, and I says, 'Now, be careful when you jump off of these things, because you don't have a flat space, and you could jump off and twist your ankle.' And so help me God he did. So then, we took him to the medics.

   "I have no idea how long it was, but in that length of time we got orders to move out, so we moved out. From there on, it's more or less hearsay, or second hand information, in that  he came back and we were gone, and instead of maybe waiting, he was anxious to get up there. So about that time the first platoon got orders to move, and he went with the first platoon tanks because he figured he'd be up somewheres where we are, and then he could join us.

   "He rode in what they called the bog, or the assistant driver's seat down front. The driver was Pine Valley Bynum, who later was killed. And the story is, your father wanted to get out of the tank, and Bynum kept telling him no, because they were getting a lot of mortar fire, but he insisted. So he got out. Bynum says he hardly was out and Bang! A round came in and hit him. And that's the last we heard of your father. The next I heard about him was that he had come back to the battalion sometime in December."

   Quentin Bynum's fellow tank drivers -- Bob "Big Andy" Anderson, Dess Tibbitts -- said he got the nickname Pine Valley from the area in the Ozarks where he grew up. But James Bynum said there was no Pine Valley in that area. The long-running soap opera "All My Children" took place in the fictional town of Pine Valley, Pennsylvania, but Pine Valley's buddies would have needed a time machine to pin a nickname on him from a soap opera that was launched in 1970. Stranger things have happened, but the likelihood is that when Bynum was in the horse cavalry at Camp Lockett, California, he might sneak off on occasion to the nearby resort town of Pine Valley, California, for a romantic assignation.

   

   Identical twins Maxine Wolfe Zirkle and Madaline Wolfe Litten show me a snapshot when I interview them at one of their homes in Quicksburg, Virginia, in 1993. Maxine and Madaline were 16 years old at the time the photo was taken, and their brother Billy Wolfe was 18.

   "This was the last time he was home, January 30th, 1945," Madeline says. Maybe it's Maxine who says it. For the life of me, when I listen to the tape, I don't know which one is talking, so in transcribing the tape I just alternate, it's the best I can do.

   "We didn't have any transportation, and we walked him to the Greyhound bus, up Route 11," Madaline continues, "and when he said goodbye to us he said, "So long, kids, and if I never see you again, goodbye." And he waved all the way down the road.

   "Going out that road, that mile," Maxine says, "he walked between us and there was snow on the ground, I'll never forget. And that snow laid for it seemed like weeks. And every day, when we went to school, we would walk in his tracks. That's how sentimental we were."

   Billy was assigned as a replacement in Company C of the 712th Tank Battalion on the first or second of March 1945, shortly before the battalion crossed the Moselle River for the second time. On 16 March 1945 the five tanks of Billy's platoon were called on to assist a company of the 90th Infantry Division that was taking heavy casualties in an engagement with elements of the 6th SS Mountain Division in the village of Pfaffenheck, Germany. In the ensuing battle the platoon lost two tanks with four crew members killed. One of those was Billy Wolfe.

   Three months later, following inquiries from Billy's family, several survivors of the battle made statements about what happened. One of them was written by Otha Martin, the gunner in another tank in the platoon.

   "8 June, 1945," Otha's statement begins. "I, Corporal Otha Martin, was a member of the Second Platoon of Company C, 712th Tank Battalion, when the platoon entered the town of Pfaffenheck, Germany, on the morning of 16 March, 1945. During the engagement with the enemy in the town, I saw the No. 2 tank of our platoon receive a hit by an antitank gun and saw the tank burst into flames. This tank was commanded by Sergeant Hayward, with Corporal Clingerman as gunner, Private Billy Wolfe as Cannoneer [loader], Private [Koon L.] Moy as assistant driver and T-4 [Wes] Harrell as driver. The tank continued to burn all that day, and during the burning all the ammunition exploded. The next morning, 17 March 1945, I went over to look into the tank. The interior of the tank was completely burned, and the exploding ammunition had turned the interior into a shambles. The only remains that I could see of Private Wolfe were what looked to be three rib bones, and these were burned so completely that upon touching them they turned to ashes. Staff S. Otha A. Martin."

   Over the years, I've interviewed a number of brothers, sisters and widows of men who were killed in World War II. The individual stories vary, but there is one constant: that a death in combat doesn't end with a rifle in the ground. Although Billy Wolfe was eventually declared killed in actions, his remains were never found, and his mother continued to write notes to him and hide them. Newell Brainard's mother eventually committed suicide. Don McCoy's mother joined the support group Gold Star Mothers. When she told the group she was going to France to see her son's grave in the American cemetery at St. Avold, another Gold Star mother said she would never be able to go to France and would Don's mother place some flowers at her son's grave as well.

   "Now if you're gonna cry now just you wait," Erlyn said as she related the story. I love that spot in the tape of our interview. It illustrates how even the saddest of moments can be tinged with humor.

   "There are thousands and thousands of those white crosses at St. Avold," Erlyn said. The cemetery guide left Major McCoy's mother at his grave, gave her a whistle and told her to blow it when she was ready to leave. Awhile later she blew the whistle and the guide returned. She showed him the number of the other Gold Star mother's son's grave. The tour guide pointed out that it was right across the walkway from her own son's grave. "And she was able to tell the other mother and your son and my son are neighbors."

   One of the drawbacks of analog recording as that on a 60- or 90-minute cassette, the side may run out at the most inappropriate moment. In the few seconds it takes to flip the tape and hit the record button, valuable information can be lost. Thus at least a few words from my interview with the Wolfe twins are missing from the part in which they read some of the notes their mother penned to Billy after his death. Nevertheless ...

 "In loving memory of my dear son who lost his life fighting for his country..."

            end of side

"...but it only fills my heart with pain, for while others' hearts will sing with joy, mine will mourn for my dear boy. He died for his country, his life he gave, his dear body is sleeping in a lonely grave. Dear God up in heaven, send your angels I pray, to watch over his grave on Christmas day. God bless our dear boys who are still in lands far away, who cannot be with us on this Christmas day. Speak peace to their dear hearts and remove all their pain, and bring them home safely before Christmas again."

 

   I'm working on a new audiobook featuring interviews with brothers, sisters and widows of young men killed in World War II. I still have some editing to do, but it should be ready in the next couple of weeks. I hope you'll watch for it. It will feature interviews with:
   James Bynum, younger brother of Quentin "Pine Valley" Bynum, 712th Tank Battalion.
   Erlyn Jensen, kid sister of Major Don McCoy, 445th Bomb Group.
   Sarah Schaen Naugher, widow of Capt. Jim Schaen, 445th Bomb Group.
   Myron Kiballa, younger brother of Gerald Kiballa, 712th Tank Battalion.
   Maxine and Madaline Wolfe, sisters of Billy Wolfe, 712th Tank Battalion.
   Kay Brainard Hutchins, sister of Newell Brainard, 445th Bomb Group.
   Elizabeth "Libby" Pitner, widow of Lt. Wallace Lippincott, 712th Tank Battalion.

Please email me if you'd like to reserve a copy when it's ready. Thank you, Aaron Elson

- - -

   

    






 

Gold Star sisters, Part 1

Maxine Wolfe Zirkle and Madeline Wolfe Litten, 1993

   A death in combat does not end with a rifle in the ground. Back home there are brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, in many cases even sons and daughters, as the American War Orphans Network can so eloquently testify. And those lives are almost always changed forever.
   I met the Wolfe twins, Maxine and Madeline, in 1987, at the first reunion of the 712th Tank Battalion I attended. I was there looking for veterans who remembered my father, who died of a heart attack seven years earlier. They were there at the invitation of John Zimmer, a veteran of C Company, hoping to meet Lieutenant Francis "Snuffy" Fuller, who commanded the Second Platoon of C Company on 16 March, 1945, the day their brother, Pfc. Billy P. Wolfe, was killed.
   Ray Griffin, the battalion association president, was a veteran of C Company. Before the reunion he made some inquiries about Pfc. Wolfe. As a result, while I was making my first inquiries into the history of the battalion, the battle of Pfaffenheck, in which Billy was killed along with three other members of his platoon, would sometimes come up in conversation.
   In 1993, I drove to Quicksburg, Virginia, and interviewed Maxine and Madeline. Their mother, who had since passed away, took Billy's death very hard, and never received the kind of closure the sisters obtained by attending the reunion and speaking with veterans who remembered Billy.

Gold Star Sisters, Part 1

(Audio of this interview will be included in my forthcoming Oral History Audiobook, "Widows and Siblings.")

  

Billy Wolfe

Maxine Wolf Zirkle

Madeline Wolfe Litten

Quicksburg, Va.

Oct. 30, 1993 

Gold Star Sisters, track 1

Aaron Elson (reading into the tape):  Following is an essay written by Billy Wolfe in school:

   "If I were to be blind after today, I would want to go off by myself in the mountain, climb to the highest cliff, and look out across the valley at the towns, farms and farmhouses.

   "I would want to picture each native tree in my mind, the rough bark and the shapely green leaves.

   "I would want to see the squirrels running and leaping from one walnut tree to another, and the birds flying.

   "I would like to see the deer run and jump swiftly and gracefully and leap across the fences, and lie in a tree that leans across the water and watch bass laying under the rocks and dart out after a fly.

   "I would go through the house from one room to the other picturing each piece of furniture, every corner and everything, in my mind.

   "I would like to see all my sisters, brother and parents together as we were, and picture each as they look for future reference.

   "I would want to see all my friends and relatives so I would know what the person looked like when I would talk to them after being blind.

   "I would want to go fishing and hunting and do the things I know I couldn't do after being blind."

   (Billy Wolfe got a C-plus on this assignment!)

Maxine Wolfe: This is another English assignment:

                           A deer

   "Last fall, during deer hunting season, I took my rifle and went out on a deer crossing. I sat down about 15 minutes, then heard something come quietly out through the woods. I stopped behind a clump of bushes. I cocked my rifle and waited. I could see the dim outline of a deer's head and shoulders.

   "I put my rifle to my shoulder. As the deer stepped out, I was ready to let him have it.

   "A doe stepped out and walked slowly through the woods. By this time, I had broken out in a cold sweat, and trembling like a leaf in the wind. Boy, was I relieved when I saw it was a doe."

Madeline Wolfe: Does that make sense? This is 1944, our older brother, Hubert, left to be inducted in the Army on the 14th of July, '44, and then, the next month, on the 23rd, Billy left for the army.

Aaron Elson: Was Hubert drafted?

Maxine: Yes. He was two years older than Billy.

   This is the newspaper that we received the day, on March 16th, Mom has written here that "This paper was printed the day Billy gave his life for the country."

   And this, on Pearl Harbor day, our church burned, our little country church.

A.E.: Which paper is this?

Maxine: This is the Northern Virginia daily, our local paper. And it's dated March 16th, that's the day he was killed.

A.E.: And the headline says: "Mile of Superhighway Held by Yanks/ Reds Slash East Prussian Pocket Into Two Segments/Five American Armies Strike Along Blazing Western Front/Assault Beyond Rhine Captures Four German Towns/Stab Into Five Others."

   "Paris, Friday, March 16th, AP -- The U.S. First Army deepened its Rhine bridgehead to six miles yesterday, seizing command of more than a mile of the great six-lane highway to the Ruhr, and the Germans said five American armies were striking along 235 miles of the blazing western front.

  "The drive beyond the Rhine gained more than a mile during the day, swept up four more German towns, and stabbed into five others.

   "The Germans said the new U.S. 15th Army had sprung into action on the bridgehead where 100,000 American soldiers now were massed.

   "The U.S. Third Army smashed six miles south from its newly won Moselle River bridgehead near Coblenz in an offensive that was cutting in 80 miles or so behind the Siegfried Line facing the Seventh Army front.

   "Already the push had sealed off the Rhine transit city of Coblenz, was nearing the Rhine south of the city, was pinching off the enemy's Little Ruhr, the Saar basin, and was challenging the Nazis' last 150-mile grip on the Rhine's west bank.

   "The Third Army was by far the deepest into Germany of any Allied army in the west."

Maxine: Hubert was at Coblenz.

   Gold Star Sisters, track 2 ("Mom just kept everything") 

Madeline: Mom just kept everything. This is the almanac for the year he was born, May 1, 1926. And here's his death certificate. That's the Purple Heart. And here's what he wrote, another assignment: "Why I don't want to choose an occupation now."

   "I don't want to choose an occupation now because I am not sure what type of work I want. I will soon be of draft age and may be put in the service.

   "After serving my time my views may be vastly changed. I may, if the war don't last too long, want to take a little more schooling. Or I may get specialized training from Uncle Sam which might be my life work..."

Madeline: It was his life work.

Gold Star Sisters, track 3 (Billy's last trip home)  

Maxine: That picture was his last trip home.

Madeline: He was sick when he came home and my sister was a registered nurse, and she wanted him to see a doctor and be delayed a little bit, but he would not because he didn't want to leave his buddies.

A.E.: Who's Grubby?

Maxine: That's a little neighbor boy and girl. Charles Turner was his name and his daddy nicknamed him Grubby. They grew up together.

Madeline: Here's the telegram. Our sister that was a nurse was home on just a little break I guess, and she walked to the mailbox and got it.

A.E.: How many sisters did you have?

Madeline: There were seven of us, five girls and two boys. We're the babies.

A.E.: Now this is May 4th, 1945, "Private Billy Paige Wolfe Killed in Action," this is the Shenandoah Herald. "Mrs. and Mrs. Hubert L. Wolfe Sr. of Edinburg, Va., received word from the War Department March 27 that their son, Private Billy Paige Wolfe, was killed in action in Germany on March 16th..." Now, who was the Paige that Billy got his middle name from?

Maxine: Mom just picked it up. We have no idea. She just liked the name.

A.E.: "Private Wolfe was inducted in service Aug. 23, 1944, and took his basic training at Fort Knox, Ky. Before going overseas in February he spent his furlough with his parents. He left for overseas duty Feb. 3 and spent some time in England and France, and was sent to Germany about March 1.

   "Billy was born in Shenandoah County May 1, 1926, and was a senior at Edinburg High School and a member of the Congregational Christian Church Palmyra since childhood.

   "He is survived by his parents, five sisters and one brother, Miss Geneva Wolfe of Portsmouth, Va., Mrs. Eugene Bowers, Woodstock, Va., Madeline and Maxine Wolfe, and Mary Wolfe, R.N., at home.

   "His brother, Pfc. Hubert L. Wolfe Jr., is now serving in Germany with the First Army.

   "Billy was a highly esteemed young man of amiable disposition. He had many friends who grieve with his family over his death."

Gold Star Sisters, track 4 (The Purple Heart) 

A.E.: What was your mother's reaction?

Maxine: Oh, she clammed up and Mom would not talk about it. She thought it was all a mistake, that he would eventually come home. And at night we would hear crying and she'd be up, and later we found letters that she'd write to him, but just keep 'em. She always thought he was coming back, until it went on, for years.

Madeline: But she would set up and write him letters, every night.

Maxine: Of course we wrote, that was our ritual, we wrote to the boys every night.

Madeline: She never got over it.

A.E.: How old was she at the time?

Maxine: Fifty-six.

A.E.: And how old was she when she passed away?

Maxine: Eighty-two. And she never knew what happened. She didn't know the stories that we know.

Madeline: She knew nothing beyond this right here. This counter is what she knew about. This counter right here.

A.E.: Now this is Henry L. Stenson, "April 21, 1945, Dear Mr. Wolfe," (this is the Secretary of War) "At the request of the President I write to inform you that the Purple Heart has been awarded posthumously to your son..."

Madeline: This is the letter from Woodle, that was with Billy, he didn't write until 1949, and he wrote Mother a letter and sent a picture, the last picture we have of Billy.

   "Dear Mrs. Wolfe, For some time I have been gone to write to you in regard to your son Billy.

   "I took my training at Fort Knox with your son and was rather close with him. We went overseas together, and even shared the same seat on the train when we crossed England.

   "We were both assigned to the same outfit, 712th Tank Battalion, but not the same company, after we arrived in France. He was assigned to C Company and I went to Headquarters Company for a short while. It was at this time your son was killed.

   "I and several others were sent to C Company after they were badly hit. They lost several tanks in a short while. I was then assigned to a tank that the driver was with your boy when he was killed. He gave me a snapshot of your boy which I am sending you. I am only sorry that I haven't sent it sooner.

   "I was not right where your boy was killed and cannot name the town or place, but I will give you the name of the fellow that was with him, and in that way will he be able to get any information you want.

   "I was going to write sooner but I thought that you might have heard from some of the others sooner. I cannot express myself the way I feel, and I want you to know that I will never forget him.

   "If there is anything that I can tell you, please don't hesitate to write." Truly yours, William Woodle, Box 153, Mapleton Depot, Pa."

Maxine: He's passed away...

Gold Star Sisters, track 5 (Shipping out)

Following are some letters from Billy Wolfe:

   "August 24, 1944,

   Dear Mom,

     "I am now at Fort Meade, Md. I don't know how long I will remain here. I am in Uncle Sam's Army.

    "We got in here about 9 o'clock this morning. We rode almost all night.

    "I washed windows in the barracks this afternoon, went for my meals, and slept. A real busy day.

   "Give my best regards to the friends, and I will write a letter later when I get an address. My address is on...where you can write. Love, Bill"

 

    "August 31, 1944 -- I received your letter "A" yesterday. I wrote to Hubert, Peg, Gigi and you the other day.

   "I had to cut Peg's card short and go scrub barracks. I didn't go to church Sunday. I was on KP. I have been on day KP twice and on guard from 12 to 3 o'clock once.

   "By the time you receive this I will be on my way. I am shipping out at 3 p.m. today. I will write the first opportunity when my destination is reached.

   "Vic Fleming and Doug Bennett are going, too.

    "Love, Bill."

    "August 25, 1944 -- Dear Mom, While I think we get our uniforms tomorrow, I think I will get an overnight leave this weekend, too.

   "I am on guard duty from 12 to 3 o'clock tonight.

   "I just watched a parade, and I'm waiting for supper or chow.

   "I wrote a card yesterday. I suppose you received that. We haven't taken any shots yet.

    "We will get some tomorrow.

   "I just went over to the PX to get some stationery. I didn't bring any along.

   "I will try to write more after chow.

   "Saturday afternoon -- I got back from chow. We have good food but it don't taste like it does at home.

   "I am sending some important papers -- save them for me. Tell all the folks back there hello, and I will write to them when I get time.

   "I have my uniforms. I go on KP tomorrow, 5:30 a.m., ain't that something?

   "Well, news and time is scarce, so I will say so long. I am going to send my clothes home Monday I think.

   "We were in line for a pass this weekend, but we go on KP. Love, Bill."

Gold Star Sisters, track 6 (That rough tank business)

 

This is Sept. 2, 1944:

    "Dearest folks, We left Fort Mead 6:20 p.m. Thursday, arrived in Indianapolis, Indiana, about 11:30 p.m. Friday. We got in Louisville, Ky., about 7:30, had dinner, and arrived in Fort Knox, Ky., where I am now stationed, at 3 a.m. Went to bed about 4 and got up at 5:45.

   "I am to begin training in the tank corps week after next. The lieutenant took us around and showed us a few important places.

   "I don't know where Vic and Kenny Fleming went. They were with us a while. I think they went to St. Louis, Mo., and hard to tell where after that.

   "I hate to think of that rough tank business. That is really rough. I just watched about a dozen and saw enough to turn my stomach. We just had a physical checkup this morning. I received your letter "A." I don't believe I have mentioned the twins in any of my letters. Are they still awfully fat? Are they ready to go to school? I am to start training with the infantry about tanks, then shift to a medium tank.

   "I haven't written to anyone except you and the family since I left. I bet Miss Cleda wonders what happened to me but I have been too busy to write much. Will you please give Mary, Gigi, Dad and Hubert my address."

Maxine: Miss Cleda was the lady that lived down the river from our home, and the day that Mom got the telegram she went down and spent the afternoon with her, she couldn't stay at home so she went down and stayed with Miss Cleda until we got home.

    "It seems like I can't find time to write. Boy, twins, you should see your handsome young brother in his uniform. I have most everything dirty, that damned train..."

Madeline: Momma would get so angry when he'd say "damn!"

   "We just had a fire drill and a lecture on military courtesy. It is about time for chow so I will have to cut this short. Be sure to have my adress, you know what. I mean even if I have forgotten the spelling.

   "P.S. I just got back from chow. White beans, cooked tomatoes, buttered bread, coffee and jello. It was good. Well, I think I will close and go to the PX."

Madeline: After he got away from home he could say those little words.

 

   "September 3, 1944. Dear folks, Are you old, fat twins ready to go back to school? I'll bet both catalogs are worn out by now. How about that, Mom?

   "I just got back from a trip to the swimming pool with Doug Bennett. We couldn't go in because we didn't have bathing trunks. How about sending me mine?

   "Did Gigi and Peg come up today? I haven't written to Peg yet, only a card from Mead. I wrote to Gigi and Miss Cleda yesterday.

   "The camp is right in the mountains. Big trees and hills. It is almost as pretty as Virginia. Indiana is pretty, too. The soil is almost black.

   "It is level as a walk, and pretty big farmhouses. It isn't quite as pretty as Virginia.

   "Well, I don't know anything else to say, so I will close for this time. Please send my trunks soon, before it gets too cold to go in swimming. The weather here is almost like back there. It may be a little warmer.

   "Write soon. You can send my stationery, too, if you can pack it. I had to buy some at the PX. I wrote to Hubert twice and haven't heard from him yet.

   "Tell Mary M I will get around to writing to them one of these days. What is Scorcher..."

Madeline: That's a neighbor. Scorcher was his nickname...

Gold Star Sisters, track 7 (A big pile of money)

   "Sept. 18, 1944, Dear Maxine and Mom and Madeline, Maxine, I received your letter just before chow. I just back from eating and am going to try to answer it.

   "I got a letter from Elaine Painter, too. Tell Perry and Shack, also Neff, to write.

   "So Lloyd Thorpe is home? Has he a discharge? Was June Bug in? Yes, Doug and I still run around together. We went to the PX last night and to the new hall, had a couple of games of ping pong, met a Puerto Rican boy, and the three of us went back down to the PX. The boy's name is Bisiena. He is nice.

   "I had KP yesterday from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. Just my luck to have it Sunday. And Mom, I thought of you Saturday and Sunday almost all day. We haven't been having so much rain down here. It has rained about twice.

   "We had grenade and gas mask drill so far today. Also a film on camouflage. So far, we go on an eight-mile hike with and everything tomorrow. We are supposed to have a gas attack and everything just like real battle. A lot of boys got gigged Saturday for not having their shoes greased, or dubbed, as we call it. Polish is strictly forbidden. I will have to get a pair of brown slippers for dress. They have to have plain toes. If I ever get to Louisville I will, but I will need a stamp. Oh, well. I don't really need them.

  "Miss Matt (Madeline), what is wrong with you? Are you miffed? I will add your name to the salutation, but you had better write next time. I suppose you have the boys on your mind. How about that, Maxine?"

 

    "Dear Madeline, Here is your pin. Take care of it, and no boys are to wear it. Also I want a big letter of thanks, understand? That costed me a big pile of money, you old soak. You never write. Maxine does. Well, don't be too bad, now. I am in a hurry. So long, Love Bill."

Gold Star Sisters, track 8 ("So long, kids ..." 

 

Madeline: This was the last time he was home, January 30th, 1945. We didn't have any transportation, and we walked him to the Greyhound bus, up to Route 11, and this is the last time we saw him. And when he said goodbye to us he said "So long, kids, and if I never see you again, goodbye." And he waved all the way down the road.

Maxine: But going out the road, that mile, he walked between us and there was snow on the ground, I'll never forget. And that snow laid for it seemed like weeks. And every day, when we went to school, we would walk in his tracks. That's how sentimental we were.

(to be continued)

 Gold Star Sisters, track 1

Gold Star Sisters, track 2 

Gold Star Sisters, track 3

Gold Star Sisters, track 4 

 

Gold Star Sisters, track 5

Gold Star Sisters, track 6 

Gold Star Sisters, track 7

Gold Star Sisters, track 8 

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Gold Star Sisters, Part 2