In today’s age of technology we have a variety of ways to instantly communicate with our loved ones, even those who are serving overseas in the military. We have cell phones that allow us to communicate by phone call, by text, by social media apps like Instant Messenger, Snap Chat or Instagram. We can even communicate face to face using programs like Skype.
Not so during World War II. In the 1940’s the most used form of communication was the letter. Yes. Actual hand-written, paper letters. Many a romance blossomed through letters written over the long months and years of separation.
The telephone did exist, but long-distance telephone calls were expensive. You couldn’t dial the number and have your loved one answer, not if you were calling someone out of town. You had to get a long-distance operator and have her place your call. Yes, I said “her” because all the telephone operators were women. This wasn’t a wartime thing. Women were always used for telephone operators.
It would have been rare and extremely expensive to place an overseas telephone call during the war, although these were possible due to the undersea cables. But they were very limited. Roosevelt may have called Churchill in England but the average person could not call up their son stationed over there.
Another mode of communication used in the 1940’s was the telegram. Western Union operated telegraph offices in practically every town in America. If someone wanted to send an urgent message to a loved one far away, say a son stationed at a military base in another state, then they would go to the Western Union office and send a telegram. Western Union employed delivery boys or girls or older men to deliver telegrams from the telegraph office to the addressee’s home or office. Mickey Rooney earned an Academy Award Nomination for his role as a telegraph delivery boy in The Human Comedy. It is a little known film well worth watching.
Although telegrams could deliver joyful news, like the birth of a baby or a loved-one’s pending arrival, telegrams often conveyed bad news, like a death, so many people dreaded receiving one. The U. S. Government used telegrams to notify families when a soldier was killed, wounded or missing in action.
Telegrams and telephone calls weren’t instantaneous but, for the time, they were quick forms of communication. On the other hand, letters could take anywhere from days to weeks to reach their destination. Mail sent to soldiers or sailors overseas might take two weeks each way. And they might not arrive in the order they were sent. Pretty hard to carry on a conversation at that rate. And if the mail bag was blown up or sunk the letter never got to its intended recipient.
The military devised a method to both speed up the mail and to cut down on the bulky shipments. They called it V-mail or Victory Mail. The person at either end would write their letter on a special, V-mail form. After mailing the V-mail form would be photographed and put on microfilm. The microfilm would be transported overseas, to Europe or Australia or wherever, and at the other end the microfilm would be printed. This printed “V-mail letter” would then be delivered to the addressee.
So be glad you live in this modern age of instant communication. Or maybe not. Back during World War II when you wrote a letter you had to think about what you were going to say, weigh the words your loved on would read far away on some battlefield or home worrying about you. The letters were often saved and cherished for years, especially love letters from someone special far away.
My mother saved a box of letters my father wrote to her during World War II. Reading them not only told me about the events of the time but also gave me insight into who my parents were as young people, their thoughts and feelings. It’s the kind of thing this current generation won’t have thanks to our various technological modes of communication.
While researching the history of the 4th Armored Division during WWII, I came across a fascinating memoir “Battle Rattle” by Roger Boas. The memoir was written when Boas was older as an effort to convey to his family what he had been through during the war and how those experiences influenced the rest of his life.
The deeply moving account begins in the author’s early years and provides an insightful background as to his physical and emotional state at the beginning of the war. Although a practicing Christian Scientist, Boas was acutely aware of his family’s Jewish heritage. This gave him a perspective that was different from many American soldiers. A graduate of Stanford and its Artillery ROTC, Boas entered the Army as a Second Lieutenant in early 1942. The newly minted officer went through training in several locations around the country and was eventually assigned to the 94th Armored Field Artillery Battalion of the 4th Armored Division.
The title of the book, “Battle Rattle,” is a term Boas says was used to refer to the ailment soldiers suffered as a result of combat similar to the term “Shell Shock” used during World War I. The term “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” which defined the psychological and physical disorder that results from experiencing various types of trauma, did not come into use until Boas was much older. As he says in the book, after World War II soldiers were given no assistance in returning to civilian life. No one acknowledged that military personnel who had been in combat might have problems that prevented them from settling down, from making sound decisions, from dealing with the stresses of everyday life. Many of these combat veterans had trouble holding down jobs. Some developed drinking problems. Some suffered from bouts of depression or raging tempers. Boas realized late in his life that he suffered from PTSD, as did many others, including my father-in-law.
The book is well written and provides many personal accounts of events during the war. One event in particular that affected Boas deeply was when he and another officer, Bob Parker, came upon the Ohrdruf Camp which they would later learn was a sub-camp of Buchenwald. Images of emaciated bodies piled up after being executed and partially burned bodies would stay with him the remainder of his life.
If anyone is wondering why I am interested in the 4th Armored Division, my father-in-law’s unit, the 276th Armored Field Artillery Battalion, was attached to the Fourth Armored Division in March and April 1945. I wanted to learn more about the 4th Armored Division’s activities during this time. It was an added bonus to find a memoir of a soldier who had served in an Armored Field Artillery Battalion and whose experiences might be similar to those of my father-in-law.
There were differences between the two which affected each’s view of the war. My father-in-law was a sergeant assigned to one of the M-7 track-mounted artillery guns where Roger Boas was a lieutenant who served as a Forward Observer for the 94th AFA. Nevertheless, the memoir provided insight into the thinking of a soldier and how he dealt with his experiences. The account also provided vivid accounts of the action that the 4th Armored Division saw during the time the 276th AFA was attached.
Another reason for my research is for my current work-in-progress. I strive to make the information about the war as accurate as possible. Roger Boas has provided me with insight into not only the mind of a soldier but also into his emotional responses to very stressful events. This will be invaluable in creating a realistic hero in my novel.
In the movie “The Holiday” (2006), Eli Wallach’s character explains to Kate Winslet’s character what a “meet cute” is in the movie business. “It’s how two characters meet in a movie,” he says. In other words, it is the scene where something brings the hero and heroine together and often the chemistry between the two is evident from the start. In Romantic Comedies the writers try to make the meeting something awkward or unusual or “cute.”
The term isn’t used as often when referring to novels, but romance novels always have a scene where the hero and heroine meet. There is a “meet cute” scene even if it’s not “cute.”
When I hear how couples met during WWII, I imagine the “meet cute” scene. I go on to ask what brought them to this point in their lives and how did their relationship develop into lasting love. Many had challenges such as parental disapproval, religious differences, physical separation due to the military, differences in social status or simply their own uncertainties. These challenges create conflict within the love story. Yet the challenges are overcome.
In real life the initial meeting may not seem so dramatic. Yet to those involved, it was life changing. My in-laws met on a blind date and, incredibly, married twelve days later before he shipped out. I wrote a post about Frank Towers who met his wife-to-be at a church social held for soldiers far from home, a social he didn’t want to attend. I wrote in another post how Irving Grayson’s future wife saw him showing off his skills at a skating rink. All these are “meet cute’s.”
In my novel, Kitty’s War, the hero and heroine first meet when she pulls him from the surf and saves his life, which is less of a “meet cute” and more of a dramatic encounter. Their second meeting is the awkward, unsure moment we think of as a “meet cute.”
Of course, plenty of couples knew each other before the war started. Maybe they went to school together or lived in the same town. Even in these instances, the war accelerated their desire to get together and see where their mutual feelings took them.
What makes these meetings during WWII unique? Many couples would never have met if it hadn’t been for the war. Servicemen trained far from their homes in different places across the country before going overseas. Other men and women met while serving overseas in the military. Even defense plant workers moved from their home towns to cities where factories and shipyards had geared-up for wartime production. In these places far from home, lonely men and women found each other. And the war added an element of urgency to the romantic relationships.
“The Clock” (1945) with Judy Garland and Robert Walker is a good movie example with a “meet cute” in a train station. A soldier on 48 hour leave in New York City meets a girl in Pennsylvania Station. The two fall in love before he ships out.
The Second World War caused a great mixing in our population. Millions of men and women moved all around the country during the war. Most had never traveled very far from home. They were exposed to different cultures, different scenery and different climates. My mother told of eating Italian food for the first time while renting rooms from an Italian family in Florida. My father-in-law saw the ocean for the first time when he sailed across the Atlantic to fight in Europe. Raised in New England, Frank Towers trained in the humid heat of Camp Blanding, Florida. They had so many unique experiences.
During World War II, many young Americans found love in unexpected places. Just imagine all the different “meet cute” scenes.
I am excited to announce that my novel, Kitty’s War, is in the process of becoming an audio book. My publisher, The Wild Rose Press, has partnered with ACX to produce an audio book which should be available around the beginning of 2019. Stay tuned for more information.
Kitty’s War is available in print or e-book at Amazon and other online outlets.
Kitty’s War Back Cover Blurb
Seeking adventure, shy Kitty Greenlee joins the Women’s Army Corps. In 1944 England, as secretarial support to the 8th Air Force, she encounters her dream man, a handsome lieutenant who only has eyes for her blonde friend. Uncomfortable around men, Kitty doesn’t think the handsome officer could want someone like her.
Recovering from wounds, Ted Kruger wants to forget about losing his closest friends and have fun before returning to danger as a bomber navigator. When Ted recognizes Kitty as the girl who rescued him two years before, he must choose between dating the sexy blonde or pursuing quiet, serious-minded Kitty even though he knows he’s not nearly good enough for her.
As the war gears up with the D-Day invasion, will Kitty and Ted risk their hearts as well as their lives?
On Memorial Day we remember those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. I recently learned a little more about one of those fallen heroes – Private Joaquin Arambula who died November 29, 1944, in France, at age 19. Joaquin served in the 276th Armored Field Artillery Battalion, the same Battalion as my father-in-law, Dewey Paul Whitaker.
Joaquin Arambula was brought to my attention by Darren Lanier and Tim Lanier, the grandson and son of Jacob J. Lanier who served, along with Arambula, in Battery “B” 276th Armored Field Artillery Battalion. Pvt. Jabob J. Lanier shared stories of his close friend Joaquin whose memory remained with him for the rest of his life.
Jacob J. Lanier told his family of the events surrounding Arambula’s death and how he mourned his friend. The 276th held a position near Freybouse, France, on November 23, 1944, Thanksgiving Day. The Germans began shelling their position and their Lieutenant called to Lanier and Arambula to go up to the road and stop an approaching Army mail truck before it came under fire. Both men ran toward the road. Pvt. Arambula was ahead of Lanier as they ran through some nearby woods when a German artillery shell came in and hit close to the two men, mortally wounding Arambula. He was evacuated to a field hospital where he died a few days later.
Jacob Lanier felt both guilt for having survived the blast and sorrow for the loss of his friend. In later years, Lanier often thought how close he came to dying that day. The fact that he didn’t run as fast as his buddy not only saved his life but also enabled him to return from the war and have a family, something his friend Joaquin didn’t get to do.
Joaquin Arambula, the son of Frank Arambula, was from Enid, Oklahoma. Since Joaquin could not see very well without his glasses, his family was upset when he was drafted. After training, Pvt. Arambula landed on Utah Beach on August 25, 1944, with the 276th Armored Field Artillery Battalion. They journeyed across France and joined the fight in Eastern France with Patton’s Third Army. The 276th fought valiantly that fall in several engagements, including repulsing the German counter-attack at Landroff, before Pvt. Arambula’s tragic death.
Of the three Arambula brothers who served in World War II, only Joe Arambula came home after serving in Europe where he fought in the Battle of the Bulge. Their other brother, John M. Arambula, died November 16, 1943, age 20, while serving in the 7th Infantry Regiment, 3rd Infantry Division in Italy.
Pvt. Joaquin Arambula is buried near Saint-Avold, France, in the Lorraine American Cemetery. His brother John is buried in the Sicily-Rome American Cemetery in Nettuno, Italy (Find-a-grave). To locate service members buried overseas or missing you can search on the American Battle Monuments Commission website.
So it is with sadness that we remember these young lives cut short by war. We honor their memory and their sacrifice. And we honor the sacrifice of their family, who lost so much so that we could have the freedom we enjoy today.
Many thanks to Darren Lanier for tracking down the family of Joaquin Arambula and to Joaquin’s family for sharing their pictures and their story.
My World War II romance novel, Kitty’s War, is available on Amazon, ITunes, Barnes & Noble, Kobo and The Wild Rose Press.