Читать книгу Home Front to Battlefront - Frank Lavin - Страница 18

After spending months at college, enjoying Edith’s company and experiencing New York City as best he could, Carl was back on the parade grounds. He was posted to Camp Shelby near Hattiesburg, Mississippi, where spring brought pleasant weather but summer could unleash wilting temperatures in the 90s.

Not only was school over for Carl and the other ASTPers, but ending as well was the path to officership, the camaraderie of the classroom, and the safety of academia. The students had been told they were the nation’s smartest soldiers, specially selected for advancement, but instead of becoming officers, Carl and the rest of the ASTP bunch were being sent back to the regular army without anything to show for it. There were no extra stripes, promotions, or fast tracks. Worse, through their ASTP participation they had foregone the normal military training and advancement that would have been available to them. And to add the misery, they were late in joining already established units, with settled leadership and friendships.¹

At one time, Camp Shelby was the busiest US training facility during World War II. With an official capacity of 84,000, Camp Shelby found itself with a population of over 100,000 at least twice during the war. At Camp Shelby, Carl was assigned to the 69th Infantry Division and became a rifleman. General Patton noted that riflemen “inflicted 37% of casualties on the enemy, but took 92 per cent of the formation’s losses.”²

Now placed with a combat unit for a second time, Carl rekindled his thoughts as to how he could take his leave from it. If the system had an opening, Carl would try to find it.

And, to Carl’s consternation, Dorothy would pursue her motherly designs as well.

. . .

Mar 25, 1944

Friday nite

Hi, Mom,

Just arrived here, but haven’t gotten assigned permanently yet, so I don’t know my address as yet. But it’ll be on this envelope. So far all I know is that I’ll be in the 69th Division here at Camp Shelby Mississippi. I’ll be in either the tank destroyers or the infantry; I hope the former but I’m afraid it’ll be the latter. We’re all getting split up, so I don’t know who, if, or how many of the guys from Queens will be in my company.

We’re only 130 miles from New Orleans, Ma. Don’t we have a lot of relatives there? Give me the addresses of someone I’d like to see, willya? I don’t know I’ll have a chance to see them or not, though, because we’re going out on maneuvers in three weeks.

You should see the weather down here now. We couldn’t ask for any better spring weather. The temperature is around 70 and everything is green and blooming. Of course, everything is also getting washed away by the floods, but we’re discounting that.

Well, write as soon as you receive this and let me know what you know, and what Fred knows.

Love—Carl

. . .

Leo, who served stateside during World War I as a Supply Corps Sergeant, passes on some sound advice to Carl: See if you can stay out of the infantry.

. . .

Apr 2 1944

Sunday

Dear Pop,

I told some of the guys about the advice you gave me. It got quite a laugh. When I learned they were closing ASTP I said that the last thing I wanted to get into was the infantry. If there were any possible way of getting into anything else I assure you I would take them. But there isn’t—you can’t even volunteer for the paratroopers anymore. If anything does come up in the future I intend to do what I can to help myself. You needn’t worry about that. Incidentally, about a third of my company is made up of former ASTP men, so that I still have the kind of guys to go around with that I did back at school. I’m really very lucky in that respect. Everybody from Queens came into this division with me, and quite a few into my regiment so that I’m continuously running into them. (It comes in quite handy at times. In the evenings, there are always long lines waiting to see the movies and it’s nice to know that no matter which one you go to, you’ll find someone that’ll let you get in line beside him.) Three of the guys from Queens are in my company and in my barracks. My friend, George, is in the next company to mine, so we get to see quite a bit of each other.

I can’t exactly say I like the place, but at least it’s tolerable. We’ve been having all you could ask for in the way of perfect spring weather, the food is the best I’ve had since I entered the army, the training has been easy and even interesting at times, and I’ve become closely acquainted with some of the guys in our company. For the first five or six days it was pretty hard though. I was really homesick for New York I guess. And then it was raining continuously and they were giving us some training that I’ve had at least three different times before and that is very uncomfortable physically.³

I spent the last three days going through Combat in Cities, the Infiltration Course, and the Close Combat Course. This is the one you probably heard about, where you crawl under machine gun fire and through barbed wire, while they set off charges around you and you fire at targets that pop up. It wasn’t as dangerous as that sounds—everything is well-controlled—and besides I’m all through with it now. Before I went over these courses I didn’t think I’d like them very well, but it turned out to be a lot of fun. The only trouble was that it was kind of dirty. Every time a charge would go off near you, you’d get covered with mud and water. It was worth it, though, to see the looks on other guys’ faces when that stuff was coming down on them.

Love Carl

. . .

Apr 6 1944

Thursday

Hello, Mom,

Today is a day of grace for us. They worked us all last Sunday, so they gave us today as a substitute. The only trouble is that there’s absolutely nothing to do.

I still don’t have anything new to report on what’s going to happen to me. It seems to be pretty definite that we’ll go out on bivouac on the 17th, though.⁴ There’s a rumor circulating that those of us here that had basic training in something other than the infantry will be returned to their respective branches. I hope it’s true; I can’t exactly say I like the Tank Destroyers, but I didn’t dislike it as much as the infantry.

However the training here is still almost interesting. Most of the men are old-timers and so our training is advanced and specialized. I now know the proper method of loading and securing equipment on railroad flat-cars, the habits and habitat of the anopheles mosquito (malaria), the German army’s methods of training, how to lay mortar positions, and a few dozen different ways of killing a man. Well, they may come in handy in civilian life. You never can tell what’ll happen.

I still haven’t been outside this camp since I came. And I don’t think I will, either. You have to go clear to New Orleans to get to anything decent, and that takes up half a week-end.

We spent Monday on the rifle range and it was quite enjoyable. Things here aren’t nearly as strict as they were back in Camp Hood, and another guy from Queens and I got together and had a lot of fun. We worked our way into taking charge of part of the ammunition and gave ourselves about twice as much as we were supposed to get. Then we ran it all off in the practice rounds. We used the M-1 rifle, the Garand that you’ve heard about, and it’s a marvelous weapon. Except for the fact that it’s not made of very good steel it’s one of the best rifles ever made. It hasn’t got very much kick to it. In fact it’s possible to fire it by just holding it in the hands from the waist. (I tried it.)

I received the box of fruit candy that you or Sugardale sent me. It wasn’t bad, but don’t you think it’s a little late for Valentines? Anyways the boys and I appreciate it.

Tell Fred to write, willya? And write yourself. Love –Carl

P.S.—Probably get a furlough in about four months. Oh, well.

. . .

Many of the guys on the firing range put wadding in their ears to protect their hearing. Not Carl. He was too proud to do such a thing as stuff his ears. It was a foolish decision he would pay for later. As he reached middle age, he developed hearing loss in his right ear, the ear closest to his weapon.

. . .

Apr 10 1944

Sunday

Dear Mom,

This is an emergency. Send me ten dollars right now, will you please? You see, we get paid the first of every month, but since we left Queens at about that time we didn’t get paid then. They told us we’d get paid the tenth and since the “cost of living” is very low here I figured I could last that long. Since we were getting paid tomorrow I decided to go into town last night and borrowed five to do it. Well, today they told us we wouldn’t get paid until the 20th so that leaves me with ten days to go on a capital of minus four dollars.

It isn’t really a life or death matter, but ten would help out.

I hate to tell you this, but I have once more taken the fatal step; I got a G.I. haircut.

Nice and cool and I don’t have to comb it. But don’t worry, by the time I get a furlough it’ll probably be down to my shoulders.

I got a letter from Fred Friday. He seems to be enjoying things pretty well. He’s probably left for Hawaii by this time.

We’re going to start getting a five weeks basic course starting Monday. The “we” referring to the ASTs. The only thing I haven’t had is bayonet drill out of all the things they’re going to teach us. Oh well, there’re worse ways of spending five weeks. Thanx. Love –Carl

. . .

After being commissioned as an ensign, Fred was sent to Hawaii and was waiting for a ship assignment when he was given his first job: He had to act as a sort of a foil for the shore patrol. His job was to walk down the street with the shore patrol discretely following. They would then pick up any sailor who failed to salute. As this included “old salts” as well as men returning directly from combat, it left Fred feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

. . .

Apr 11 1944

Monday

Dear Mom,

I received the wallet you sent me today. Thanks very much. It is really “just what I need” as you noticed when I was home. A nice one, too. But more than the wallet even, I think I’ll appreciate the pictures you said you were sending. Have you sent them yet?

I got another package today. For some reason or other the Jewish War Veterans of Canton decided to send me a package of pin-up girls. Very sweet of them. But they’re behind times. The magazines say that the army doesn’t like pin-ups any more.

Did I tell you in the letter I wrote yesterday that I tried to go to New Orleans last week-end? Anyways I did. Try, that is—I didn’t succeed. Travel conditions are worse here than in any camp I’ve been in. I’ll make one more attempt in a few weeks; give’em one more chance. If I do get there I’ll try to look up what’s-their-names.⁵ Nothing new going on here. So—goodbye.

Love, Carl

. . .

Apr 13 1944

Wednesday

Dear Mother,

Your timing was perfect. I received both your letter and the package on my birthday. Thanks very much. I appreciate it.

Yes, I heard from New Orleans. I got a letter yesterday from Mrs. Marcus [Leo’s cousin]⁶ which was very nice. She has a daughter of 18. Invited me to stay any week-end at her house. Of course, now my only problem is how to get there. I think I told you of my attempt to get to New Orleans last week-end didn’t I?

Lights out now—so goodbye, Love Carl

. . .

Apr 16 1944

Sunday

Dear Mom,

Received your ten and on behalf of the boys in the hutment may I express my thanks?⁷ Also received the letter the Old Man wrote me. It arrived at the right psychological moment. I was going to write and thank the [cousins] Marcus’ and the Panglin’s (they both asked me to stay with them) but I was going to put it off for a few days. So with your prompting, Pop, I wrote them both last night. Told them I couldn’t accept since I’d never know in advance when I’d be able to make it. (the odds are about four to one against my getting out of here and making it there on any given week-end) but I’d look them up to see them when I do get to New Orleans.

I think I told you they’re giving us basic all over again (short course) didn’t I? Well, we’re starting to take those damned long hikes all over again, which is the part of the army I hate most. (For someone who doesn’t like to go on marches, I haven’t got myself a very good position, have I?) Almost a tenth of the guys fell out of the one we had yesterday—pretty fast cadence. I was pretty surprised, and pleased, to learn that there aren’t very many guys that can take it as well as I can. I’ll be damned if I know how I got into that condition, but it’s a nice condition to be in.

I’m going to try to get transferred to the anti-tank company of the regiment. I think I may be able to do it. In that company you ride wherever you go—you don’t walk.

Learned yesterday that all that stuff about moving from Shelby was just stuff. We’ll be here indefinitely.

‘Bye now—love Carl

. . .

Apr 18 1944

Monday

Dear Mom,

O.K.—I’m ready for those pictures—let’s have them. Are you and Daddy getting some made together? I think it’s a great idea, personally.

Figure 4-1. Camp Shelby letter and envelope, Mississippi, April 18, 1944. Author collection.

I’ve got some pretty good news. It looks like I’ll be getting a furlough in about six weeks instead of four months as I originally expected. Maybe even sooner. I’ll sound out the powers that be and give you a more accurate picture as soon as I can.

What do you think of the idea of having Edith come and stay with us during my furlough? I imagine we can work out some sleeping arrangement or other. (In fact if things come to the worst she and I can sleep in the same room—but I don’t suppose either you or she would agree to that.) I haven’t said anything to her about coming to Canton yet.

Spring has officially arrived at Camp Shelby. We went into cotton uniforms today. A terrific cold snap is expected by all concerned. The army is still determined to make something out of me physically. I don’t know yet whether it’s good or bad. But they’re working us like—ah—beavers.

Let me hear from you. Let me know of all the excitement of and in Canton.

Love –Carl

. . .

Dorothy Lavin was in contact with her congressman, Rep. Henderson Carson⁸ (R-OH, 1893–1971), in an extensive effort to attain some type of consideration for Carl. This type of constituent request was frequent during wartime and when you add to this the fact that Carson was in his first term in Congress as well as a member of the minority party it should not be surprising that her efforts were not particularly fruitful.

. . .

Apr 18 1944

Friday,

Hello, Mom,

I’m still very dubious about what Carson can do. If you’re going to get some good out of him, why not have him get me into an O.C.S. or some special training of some kind? That metabolism stuff sounds like a lot of bunk to me, but if a chance comes for a transfer, I’d welcome it.

Whatever happened to those pictures you were going to send me? I’m still waiting for them. By the way, physically I’m better off and can take more than about half the guys here. I’m disgustingly healthy. It’d be pretty much of a joke if I got out of here because of a physical disability. You know my metabolism is normal.

It’s late mother, so good night.

Love –Carl

. . .

A letter from Edith:

Brooklyn NY

May 2, 1944

Dear Mrs. Lavin,

When I received Carl’s letter asking me to come to Canton during the time he’s home on furlough, I was hesitant, naturally, about accepting—though there’s nothing I wanted more—not knowing what his family thought of the idea. When your warm-hearted and thoughtful invitation came it was very sweet of you to ask me, Mrs. Lavin, especially when I know you and Mr. Lavin would much prefer having Carl to yourselves, for the short time he’s home, to sharing him with anyone.

Because I do want to meet all of you and because, needless to say, I want very much to see Carl, I’m going to be as selfish as you’ve been unselfish, and accept. I’d love to come—thank you.

I know I’ll have a wonderful time—being with Carl and his family is guarantee of that.

Sincerely, Edith

. . .

May 4 1944

Wednesday

Hello Mother,

First I want to thank you for writing to Edith and I know you would write her as hospitable a letter as you could. You didn’t have to assure me of that. I have confidence in your judgment (even if you don’t in mine—but wait ‘til you see her.)

Yes, she goes to school, but she gets out on the seventh of June and I won’t get my furlough until about the middle or end of it, as near as I can tell.

I don’t believe any harm can come from writing to Carson, don’t worry about that. But, by the way, has any good come from it yet? I mean, if he wants to make me an officer I won’t object.

The watch hasn’t come yet, but I’ll start thanking you for it anyways. I do appreciate all the trouble you went to get it. It’s coming at an opportune moment, since the crystal fell out of mine a few days ago and I haven’t been able to have it fixed yet. I’ll send it back. There’s nothing wrong with it but the crystal and it’d be a good idea to have it fixed and cleaned when you receive it. By the way, take it anywhere but to C’s.⁹

Those cartoons you’re sending me are really very good. No, I don’t see them in any other papers, so please keep it up, please.

Yesterday we got back from a four-day bivouac out by the rifle range. We shot the carbine and the rifle for record. I presume you’ll be proud to know your soldier scored “expert” (highest you can get) on the rifle and “sharpshooter” (above average) on the carbine. Scored a 45 out of 45 on rapid fire at 300 yards, and I think I was the only one in the company to do it. That should prove to you, pop, that I can think and act quickly.

Only about five more weeks and I’ll be seeing you, I hope.

Until then—love Carl

. . .

May 10 1944

Tuesday

Hello, Mom,

Received the watch! It’s really wonderful! Although I didn’t ask for the sweep second hand, it’s exactly what I wanted! Thank you very much.

I’ll tell you in a week how it runs, but I’m pretty sure that you couldn’t ask for anything better.

About two weeks ago I told you I was getting my furlough in six weeks, remember. Well, now I’m getting it in seven weeks. (not even holding my own.) That’s as definite as anything can be in the army (which it can’t.) That is, the orders for my furlough are definite; the time isn’t. There are forty-five guys ahead of me, and they’re sending new men out as the old ones return, so the time is rather indefinite. But I think we can figure on about the last of June.

Tonight at two o’clock we go out on a twenty-five mile hike, with full field pack and gun, of course. The infantry’s got something new out called an expert infantryman’s badge and you have to pass a lot of physical and mental tests to get it.¹⁰ So this is supposed to be the toughest physical part. Probably by tomorrow I’ll be about two inches shorter after being pounded into the ground for eight hours and having my feet worn away for ditto time by all that weight.

Well, I’ll let you know what’s happening and what’s happened, when it does. Same from you?

Bye now—with love Carl

. . .

May 12, 1944

Mother’s Day Card

“A tender greeting

Filled with loving cheer

To tell you, Mother,

How very dear

You are to me

On Mother’s Day

And all the year!”

And a hand-written note:

I hope that it does, Mother! You are, believe me, although I’m afraid I don’t show it very often. With Love –Carl

Figure 4-2. Mother’s Day card, May 12, 1944. Author collection.

Separate letter

Thursday

You asked whether I liked fudge or something else. Maw, that’s not a very hard choice. There isn’t anything I’d rather have than fudge, than your fudge, rather.

I wish you’d forget about trying to get me out of this because of any physical reasons. If Carson has any pull, push him into getting me into O.C.S. but he’d have to have more than pull for that, he’d have to have a prime mover.

Remember I told you I was trying to get a position as a driver? Well—that’s out. I am now working on something new and 100% better—battalion intelligence. It means interesting (comparatively speaking, of course) work and a chance to use more brain and less brawn. About 50% more men volunteered than there are room for so I won’t know for a while whether I’m one of the fortunate or not.

Yesterday morning we finished that 25 mile hike I told you about. You should have seen everybody hobble, crawl, limp, or what-have-you around the company area all day yesterday—it was like a slapstick comedy. But my God, were my feet tender! And did I wake up stiff this morning! Ah, the rugged life! Nothing like it, thank God! But—didn’t hurt me, I guess.

Bye Love –Carl

. . .

The Lavins’ house in Canton contained two bedrooms, one for Dorothy and Leo and one for the boys. A houseguest in that home meant that Carl would sleep on a couch or on the back porch, and the guest would take the boys’ room. In May 1944, Dorothy and Leo decided to purchase a larger house about six blocks away.

. . .

May 16 1944

Monday

Dear Mother,

Today in the 69th Division, of which I have the somewhat dubious honor of being a part, is celebrating its first birthday. So, after a parade this morning, we are having the rest of the day off. Personally, I think it would have been a nice gesture on the part of the general had he waited two more days to hold this celebration, for then both the 69th and myself could have celebrated our first year in the army, together. Yep, two more days and I’ll be practically an old army man. But the general is a stubborn man.

Since this is my first typing endeavor in about a year, you’ll have to overlook my mistakes and you’ll have quite a few of them to overlook.

The watch is completely good, except for one thing. It really works automatically; I haven’t had to wind it since I got it. But it gains about a minute and a half, or two, a day. By the way, in case you’re wondering why my old watch hasn’t arrived yet, here’s the reason, I haven’t sent it yet. But I will as soon as I get a chance.

If I ever manage to get out of this place over a week-end, I’ll call you some Sunday morning (It takes at least six hours to get a call through from camp.) So far, I’ve been able to get out on exactly one week-end out of eight, what with the transportation the way it is, which is negligible, and the detail list the way it is, which is almost all-inclusive. If I get a chance on other than a week-end I’ll try to call you then, too. But don’t worry if you learn that I’ve called when you weren’t home some time. If anything important ever turns up I’ll let you know by telegraph, not by phone.

Incidentally, what kind of sleeping arrangements are you figuring on when Edith and I get there? It’s going to be a little difficult for you, I guess. I hope all this isn’t going to trouble you too much, but it means quite a lot to me. I may as well warn you now, Mom, we aren’t going to get much sleep during those seven days and it won’t do you any good to try and get us to. Also you might notify the Lavin family and friends that any glimpses they get of me beyond the absolute minimum will be purely coincidental.

Just got your letter. Was surprised to hear you’re really intending to sell the house now. But your plan seems to be a very good one. All I want is that you keep it until after my furlough, which you said you are doing.

Goodbye for now—Love Carl

. . .

May 19 1944

Thursday

Mother,

Friend Carson must really be something, after all. I’ve never seen anything move so fast in the army before. And somebody must have thrown a scare into somebody. Yesterday I was called in out of the field (orders were marked “emergency”!) and sent to the hospital. There two majors and a lieutenant colonel worked on me. While this was going on there were majors and captains out in the field questioning my squad leader, platoon leader, first sergeant, and C.O. about my physical condition.

They put my hands and feet in ice water, asked me question after question and I’m afraid they arrived at the conclusion that I am healthy. They aren’t done yet, though. Today they tried to give me a metabolism shot, which didn’t take. (Remember when I tried to take one before?) But they’re going to try again tomorrow.

Yes, I’ve done everything and said everything I can. Don’t worry about that. I’ll tell you what happens as soon as it does.

But if Carson can do all that, why don’t you put his powers to work along a more helpful line? Maybe he can get me transferred into something requires more brain work. Some kind of specialized job. If he wants to know if I’ve any experience in anything he mentions within reason, say yes. It’s surprising what you can bluff through in the army.

Have you heard again from Fred lately? Let me know. Meantime—Lots of Love –Carl

. . .

May 26 1944

Thursday

Dear Mom,

I’m afraid your hopes that the army will make a neat, punctual person out of me are due for disappointment. Every soldier’s first post-war plans include such things as getting a rifle and throwing dirt on it, never walking in step, never hanging any clothes up, sleeping until two every day, and never walking more than twenty consecutive steps at a time. In other words, to do just the opposite of what he’s been doing under compulsion.¹¹ This may explain daddy’s behavior.¹² Maybe if he’d never been in the army he’d be happy in sleeping normal hours. But the stigma of regimentation has probably lasted all this time and so he can’t bear to sleep as everybody else does. So it’ll be the same for Fred and me.

That telephone talk was pretty nice. Shame I didn’t get a chance to talk to pop. But one of these months maybe I’ll get into town again, and there’ll be another chance. After I talked to you, I called up some people that A wrote me the address of. Her roommate’s family, in fact. They invited me out there, along with the guy I came in with, for Sunday dinner (which was the reason I called them up—don’t worry, I was very diplomatic—“Oh, no, I couldn’t think of imposing on you like that, and besides I came in with a friend.”) So we went out there and had a wonderful time, surprisingly enough. We spent the whole afternoon and evening with them. Met about all the family relatives and friends, as they’d drop in and we went for a ride in the car and called on several people. Everyone we met was very nice and treated us wonderfully. It was a week-end just like one back home—everything peaceful and quiet and civilized. Nothing to remind us of the army. There was a fifteen year old daughter—quite pretty and smart—which added to the amusement. We helped her with her homework after supper. (They insisted on supper—what could we do?) By the way, don’t worry about the watch being fast. (sent the old one back on Tuesday—get it yet?) the mother works in a jewelry store—or owns it—father is dead—and so she is having it fixed for me. I’m sure they’ll do a good job. Simple to do anyway.

Have you gotten any kind of report on my “condition” yet? Keep me posted. Oh, and keep sending those cartoons, please. They’re excellent.

And by now it’s only five more weeks. I hope.

Love and kisses, Carl

. . .

Jun 1 1944

Wednesday

Hi, Mom,

Glad to hear that your finish in the Hadassah was such a climactical one.¹³ But why quit? How are you going to spend all your time now? It seems to me that these activities need you, and you need them.

A new order came down on furlough. No one gets one until six months after his last one. Which means that it’ll be the beginning of August for me, instead of July as I thought. That’s eight weeks away. I’m not even holding my own. (a month ago I thought I’d have one in seven weeks.)

Yes, I told them about those operations.¹⁴ But naturally they don’t mean anything. How could they?

Oh, by the way, the length of the furlough was also changed—but this one for the better. Now it is ten days plus traveling time. Which I can make eleven days at home. That’ll be almost twice as long as any furlough I’ve had so far.

Lights out now—so ‘Bye—With Love –Carl

. . .

A letter from Edith:

Jamaica NY

June 3, 1944

Dear Mrs. Lavin

Now that the inevitable “eleventh hour” rush of end term work is over, I can do what I meant to do long before this, write and say hello.

Friday was my last day of class. (A good thing too that the end of the semester came when it did! For several weeks now I’ve been letting a bad case of Spring Fever and an awful lot of daydreaming about Canton of course play havoc with my powers of concentration—and, probably, with my grades.) I’ve still a few exams threatening me, but they’ll be over soon and then I can really let go and relax.

Speaking of relaxing, I’m afraid I’m not going to give you a chance to, am I? Carl told me you’re very active in organization work. Mother’s interested in the same type of thing and knowing June is one of her busiest months, I imagine you’ll be pretty rushed yourself these next few weeks. Then, instead of having a chance to recuperate you’re going to have to be bothered with a houseguest. (I might have said this before Mrs. Lavin but I mean it, truly. I hope you and Mr. Lavin won’t feel you must put yourselves out to entertain me. I’ll feel very badly if you do.)

I agree it was thoughtful of the Army to postpone Carl’s furlough till I finished school. Thoughtful as far as my studies were concerned, that is. As far as my feelings were concerned, however, I’m not so sure.

According to Carl, the Army intends to keep the exact date of his furlough a closely guarded secret—until just a few days before it comes through. At least so for a while yet, I won’t be able to make definite plans. As soon as I can though, I’ll write.

Say hello to Mr. Lavin for me won’t you.

And one thing more, thank you for taking time out to write. It meant a great deal to me.

‘Bye Edith

. . .

The United States and Allies launched the liberation of Europe—D-Day—on June 6, changing the pace of the war and Carl’s narrative. As one historian wrote, “The 8,230 U.S. casualties on D-Day included the first of almost 400,000 men who would be wounded in the European theatre, the first of 7,000 amputations, the first of 89,000 fractures.”¹⁵