From
this
Valley
By Pete Steiner
Letters of the Greatest Generation
E
ven in the midst of a bitter winter stretch, serendipity happens. Simple things to lift your spirit. My cousin gave us a bound book of letters our grandfather had written to sons, Bob and Dick, while they were serving in the South Pacific during World War II. The series of 50 letters began in 1943, and it has given me insights into J.A. Lloyd that I never had while he was alive. Then, paging through a book my dad had kept in his reading stand, I came upon a letter he had written the day WWII ended. Letters retain the fragrance of the soul. E-mail and texting, today’s preferred methods of written communication, do not. Unless you’re an FBI investigator, you probably regard e-mail as fungible, so susceptible to the delete key that it’s doubtful anyone will re-read them 70 years from now. But perusing written family heirlooms, I felt like I was suddenly in a room with their authors again, hearing them speak. The letters also serve to remind us that even during a conflict as monumental as WWII, life went on on the home front. •••• Letters from home were crucial for troop morale during the long years of the Second World War. My grandfather, whom everyone called “Jab,” dictated the series of letters to his secretary, Ida Enstead. A lumberman who also operated a farm near Judson, Jab’s registered Guernseys each had a name. Farmers may enjoy this letter to his sons, dated Oct. 16, 1943: “‘Little Honey’, with her first calf, is now giving 36 lbs. of milk a day. … We won’t be picking our corn until the latter part of this month. … This week I should market at least 8 pigs … that average 350 lbs. … I want to tile the low places down where the willows are. …” That same day, he mentioned local pilot Arne Wornson was missing in the European theater; of course, he would later emerge alive from the French underground. Remember, this was fall of 1943, and the war would grind on another 19 months in Europe, nearly two more years in the Pacific. But after two years of U.S. involvement, my grandfather wrote optimistically, “the war news has been very good. … If England, Russia, and the U..S can settle the difficulties that confront them diplomatically, I feel positive that the European war will be over before very long.” Still, there was worry: “We surely are anxious to know where you are. … We have our maps (of the South Pacific) pretty near worn out.” •••• My grandfather comes across as an astute businessman who liked to send encouraging news to his boys. Looking to the future, he wrote in one letter, “I have so many ideas … about the lumber business. … Save every single dime you can, that’s the banker’s first consideration … you have to have the wherewithal. … There is nothing that can stop us if we really set our minds to it. … The ambitious, smart
44 • february 2014 • MANKATO MAGAZINE
merchandiser is the boy that will reap the harvest in this post-war building boom.” By midsummer, a month after D-day, Jab would write, “I don’t see how the war in Europe can last much longer, as they have this boy Hitler cornered from all sides. … You fellows in the Pacific are surely doing a marvelous job … progress … better than anticipated.” Yet, war in the Pacific would grind on for 14 more months. •••• My dad, who had been dating Mickee Lloyd since ninth grade, had come home on leave in September 1944. Of the Marine officer who would soon ship out to Honolulu and then Iwo Jima, his future father-in-law would write, “(Bill) looks like a million dollars and is really in fine shape.” Six months later, a full month after the Fourth Marine Division landed on Iwo, my grandfather would write his sons regarding Mickee’s sweetheart, “… have not heard from Bill Steiner as yet, but am presuming they will be able to get some mail out of Iwo Jima before long. He must have gotten by or they would have heard.” Finally, after six weeks incommunicado, on March 21, Mickee received a “V-mail” from Bill saying he was OK. •••• The letter from my father is postmarked Sept. 3, 1945, U.S. Navy, San Francisco. It had also been stamped, “passed by Naval censor.” It was addressed to Mr. Louis Todnem, longtime coach at Mankato High. Coach Todnem apparently returned it to my dad some 40 years later, saying, “it might bring back memories.” Written on four pages of thin, crinkly stationery, it began, “Dear Mr. Todnem, I imagine I’ll surprise you … dropping you these few unexpected lines. … I imagine you … were just as thrilled as we out here at the sudden end of the war. … Up till now every thought of mine and of my men has been directed toward war. … (Now) we may get home (by) Christmas. … Since we returned from Iwo Jima we have formed a battalion basketball team that is a crackerjack. Our ace is (former Illinois whiz kid and future NBA star) Andy Phillip. … We have won 53 straight games. … I was a forward observer with a … pack howitzer battalion (on Iwo). It was a rough go … but thanks to God I was practically unscathed … I have seen how terrible war can be. I don’t want any more of it ever. One can’t imagine how horrible it is unless he sees it, and then he can’t believe it.” My dad finally made it back home in mid-January. He immediately proposed to Mickee. Less than two weeks later, on a frigid Jan. 26, 1946, they married. The cold of that January hardly bothered them at all. M Pete Steiner is host of “Talk of the Town” weekdays at 1:05 p.m. on KTOE.