Letters from World War II (3)
Part III: George & Charlie
Grandma Concetta Sciabarra had one daughter, Theresa (Tessie), and three sons — Carmelo (Charlie), George (Georgie), and my dad Salvatore (Sal). Two of those sons, my Uncles George and Charlie, went off to fight the Axis powers in Europe. Their stories are the focus of today’s installment.
Uncle George
Right before Uncle George answered the army’s “call to active duty,” his mom got very sick. On November 10, 1942, Dr. Emanuel Salwen wrote a letter requesting that George “who has just been inducted into the Army, be given a few days leave to be near his mother in her illness.” Six days prior to the request, my grandmother’s appendix had been removed, and she was suffering from peritonitis and abscess formation. Her condition was considered critical. George later recalled how he appreciated the efforts of the doctor and the family in helping him to get a furlough to see his mother during that difficult period. A year later, on November 9, 1943, he was already stationed in North Africa, having sent Mom a handkerchief from Tunis, along with some Algerian money (below).
Two years after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the war had taken a deep emotional toll on the entire family, not just those on the battlefield but everyone at home as well. Mom was trying to keep a positive outlook, at least in her letter writing, in her hopes for an early Allied victory. In a letter dated December 5, 1943, George replied:
I see you are still trying to predict when the war will be over with. I gave that up, not that I am discouraged but I guess I may as well get used to taking things the way they come. Even if the war would end tomorrow, I still wouldn’t come right home. It would probably take a good six months. … Well Ann I guess that’s about all except you tell me to ask for something. Well OK, you can send me a flashlight? I can really use one.
On May 19, 1944, the flashlight finally arrived in a “small package,” and he thanked Mom for sending it. He admitted how he could get lost in his thoughts and imagination, while taking in the North African sun. “It’s wonderful how you can be carried away by your thoughts. Just lie in the hot sun + I feel like I was in Coney Island only nobody steps on you here.” Indeed, those were the days when the summer sand on Coney Island beach could hardly be seen because every square inch of space was taken up by sunbathers.
In a letter dated May 15, 1944, George wrote to my mother’s sister Georgia. “I haven’t changed a bit in appearance,” he said, “but I guess I may act a little different when I get back but what soldier doesn’t.” Like Mom, Georgia had insisted on sending something to George in North Africa. “I hope you don’t get mad,” George replied, “but I really have so much stuff now. … So be a pal + don’t tell me to ask for anything. I hope you understand.” Alas, he capitulated: “Oh hell! Go ahead + send me some magazine or something to read.”
My Aunt Georgia was married to my Uncle George’s (and my Dad’s) first cousin — my Uncle Sam (Salvatore Sclafani) — who enlisted in the Navy in the wake of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Sam, among others, is the subject of my next and final installment.
Like everyone else in the service, George could never provide any details about his involvement in military campaigns or provide any information on his exact whereabouts, even if asked. Stationed in North Africa on June 7, 1944 — the day after the first wave of the Normandy invasion — he wrote to Mom: “I haven’t been doing much though I went to a dance + had a pretty good time. I also saw ‘Gentleman Jim’ with Errol Flynn. I hadn’t seen it + enjoyed it a lot.” Three days later, on June 10, 1944, he told Mom that he still hadn’t received any mail from her. “I can’t understand it, but I suppose you are writing.”
Some mail did get through. George requested some money from home, and on September 16, 1944, he thanked Mom for having sent him a money order. Two days later, he wrote a letter to Dad asking for a radio. He told Mom: “It sure will be swell if he can do us that favor. Then I can catch up on all the popular songs. Won’t that be something. … Oh yes one of the fellows here gets the Chicago Times (a paper) + in it I saw a picture of Frank Sinatra. … He sure did look swell + they gave him a good write up.”
Odds are that George never received that radio because by October, he was among the Allied forces advancing deep into Italy. On October 23, 1944, he wrote from the Italian mainland. Mom had apparently asked him if he received an absentee ballot to vote in the November 1944 Presidential election. “As to your ‘what’s new’,” George replied, “well quite a bit but I really can’t tell you. … Yes, I got a ballot to vote but I never mailed it + it is a little late now. … We had a dance the other night + it wasn’t bad. The music was real good considering just a few pieces. It was in a castle … it isn’t fixed up but it wasn’t bad.” It’s anyone’s guess what castle George was referencing. It may have been the Abbey of Monte Cassino, southeast of Rome, though it was practically in ruins from U.S.-led air raids in the months prior to George’s arrival. He lamented: “I wish this mess would end soon just as you do. But as we say in the army, we will just have to wait it out.”
Uncle Charlie
With George’s unit entering Europe from the south, his brother Carmelo (Uncle Charlie) was part of the military campaigns to the north. Charlie’s letters were much more extensive and far more harrowing, given the twists of fate that awaited him.
Among the first to be drafted into the army, Charlie entered military service on February 24, 1942 and made his way through basic training across a host of U.S. cities. On June 14, 1942, from Camp Cooke, California, he sent Mom and Dad a hilarious novelty letter, writing in the names ‘Sal + Ann’ in the salutation. The letter includes a copyright stamp, “Copyright 1940, Registry 1127634”, and an imprint for the Walter L. Earnshaw Co., Hollywood, California. It opens: “Promised myself I would write you a nice long letter.” The letter is indeed long (as in measurable length).
It continues:
So here it is. I’ll have to talk about California, as everyone out here does. It must be the weather. The sun shines most all the time, but when it does rain, or there is a wind, or it is hot or cold — it is always ‘unusual’. Anything two drops better than a ‘high fog’ they call a storm, and if it snowed — mind you, I say ‘if’ — the Chamber of Commerce would probably hide its embarrassment and label it a ‘fluffy rain’. California is about the only place I know of where one can get sunstroke in the daytime and chilblains the same night. I might mention that earthquakes are practically unknown. Nearly everyone claims it is just Florida propaganda. Even the air out here is a little different — much of it being ‘hot air’. There is a delightful air of informality in the way people dress (or shall we say ‘undress’) for the street. You can see anything and almost everything until one gets tired of lifting an eyebrow. Slacks with tight-fitting southern exposure are not uncommon, and there are some shorts that couldn’t be much shorter without being a necklace. It’s about 400 miles between the two famous rivals, San Francisco and Los Angeles. Each of these two cities delights in trying to outtalk the other. … While I can’t send you a sample bathing beauty, at least there is a sample of the sand she was standing on —
There is indeed sand glued to the letter … followed by —
Had to move her to get that! I’ll use a drop or two of the ocean to moisten the stamp. …
One reason people live to such a ripe old age in California is that there is so much to see they really can’t spare the time to die.
Knowing Mom and Dad, they probably got a real kick out of that letter. But laughter could go only so far. In a note dated January 5, 1943, Charlie wrote: “Boy when this is over, it sure will be a happy day for many.”
By the early spring of 1944, Charlie was on his way to England. His letter dated April 6, 1944, begins: “Just think in 5 days I’ll be 32 years old + here I am in Europe. Thousands of miles from home. I don’t know what good I’m going to do because I’m only 32 + feel like 62.” A week later, April 13, 1944, he wrote:
Sorry I can’t talk about how things look out here or we’re not allowed to + another thing we can’t talk about the weather so please don’t ask me. … We don’t hear any rumor about the war ending only what we read in the paper. To me it seems like it’s never going to end. … Hope you’re right in saying it will end this year but I don’t think it will end in another 2 years. We’ll really make up for lost time when it did end. Really don’t know what else I can say. … Best regards to all. Love + kisses + may God bless you, Love, Charlie.
With Easter having fallen on April 9, Charlie wrote to Mom on April 18, 1944, with a mixture of sorrow and amusement:
Easter was just another day to all of us but let’s hope and pray that the next one will be a better one. … The only real holiday will be after the war + all the boys come home again. … I’ll be drunk for a month if I get back home again. … I play the mandolin pretty often but I get to play all hillbilly music because the guys that are here are … from Texas + don’t know any of that jazz stuff. The English play all our American songs … they try to swing but they stink at it and they try to jitterbug but they can’t beat the good old U.S.A. for that kind of stuff. … Don’t worry. All the boys will come back some day and we’ll really have a good party won’t we.
On April 28, 1944, Charlie tried to persuade Mom that he was “making the best of things.” In contrast to his days at boot camp, Charlie wrote:
Well, I’m going to tell you something you won’t believe. I seem to be a lot happier here than I was back in the states. As a matter of fact one of the fellows made a remark today that I’m always singing. Back in the states, I never even smiled. So you can figure it out for yourself. … Let’s hope that someday it will all change + we’ll all be happy again if that’s possible. … After all, this is war. If I got to come home mentally unbalanced, I wish I get killed or I don’t want to be a burden to anyone. Things will be tough enough after the war. … This war is going to drive us all nuts if we’re not that already.
If Charlie was trying to convince himself, and not only the people back home, that things were as good as could be expected, his understandable apprehensions could no longer be camouflaged. But he held onto his hopes, reiterating them in a letter dated May 6, 1944:
I do hope that the next time I come home it will be for keeps. I think it will if I’m lucky enough to come back, after all this is war + there’s no telling what will happen. Let’s just hope + pray everything will turn out for the best. You’re not kidding a bit that will be a day that will never be forgotten.
In a letter dated May 20, 1944, he reassured Mom: “Anna I really feel swell + haven’t let a thing get me down. … I’m not saying that just to make you feel good.” But three days later, in a letter dated May 23, 1944, it was very clear just how ‘down’ he was.
I hope this damn thing ends one way or the other. I’m really sick of this damn life. I hope they get it over with one way or the other. I hate to think of living like this another 2 years. I don’t think I could take it. I’ve already lost 2 more years of my life + I could never make them up. Please don’t think I’m in a blue mood. … Tell me everything that happens even if it’s going to hurt me although I can’t be hurt very much as I don’t have much feeling left. Anna, let’s hope + pray that all this will end soon + we’ll all be back together again. Have to close now. Anna, if Sal dare go, promise me you’ll be a good Soldier + take it on the chin. I know you’re a good Soldier and I want you to prove it to me. … Your brother, Charlie
Charlie was very worried that his younger brother Sal, my Dad, would be drafted into the service and that their mother would have to worry about the lives and well-being of all three of her sons. He was also very concerned about his wife Ann. On May 25, 1944, Charlie told Mom:
I can’t think of anything else but my wife wondering how she’s taking all this as I know she’s really taking it pretty hard but there’s nothing in the world either one of us can do about it so we’ll just have to have patience + wait + see what the future will bring + hope + pray it’s something good which I doubt very much. … I’ll always take care of myself in the best way I can. I’ll try to … not let anything bother me although I fly off the handle once in a while. In the army they call it sounding off + when you do that they hold it against you but I guess you don’t realize that even though you are a soldier you’re still a human being + still have feelings which to them it doesn’t seem so.
A day later, he received welcome news from my mother; my father had received a IV-F classification and was rejected for military service due to a host of medical issues. He replied:
Dear Ann, Received your letter today + it was the best letter I’ve gotten since I’ve been in the army. … I was so happy to read that Sal was rejected that I wanted to cry + I really mean that with all my heart. … He’s still my kid brother. Need I say anymore. … It did my heart a lot of good to hear that for the first time in her life Mom actually cried for joy. Oh Anna if you only knew how that made me feel. Believe it or not I got tears in my eyes now just talking about it. Just think she finally got one good break in her life. I think it’s about time something good happened in our family.
After this May 1944 correspondence, there are no letters from Charlie among those saved by my mother. The next chronologically dated letter came from Mom, who wrote to Charlie on September 5, 1944:
I hope this finds you in the best of health and far from the thick of everything. Whichever way it is thin or thick, wherever you are or may end up, just remember we are all with you, praying for your speedy return. … Take care, God Bless You. I’ll try to write soon. Regards, love + kisses from us all.
The letter was returned.
Charlie had made his way to the European mainland as part of the Allied incursions into Belgium and Luxemburg. Mom had received word that Charlie had been hospitalized. But every letter that Mom sent from this point on was returned with the word “Missing” printed on the front of each envelope. These letters from Mom to Charlie were still sealed in their original envelopes. Mom’s heart must have dropped every time she saw that word “Missing” on the returned mail. Clearly, she couldn’t bring herself to re-open the envelopes or to re-read what she’d written. Her expressed anxiety was overwhelming.
I opened each of these envelopes very carefully so as not to damage their contents. From Mom’s letter dated November 15, 1944:
Received your letter and was so very happy to hear from you, above all relieved that you were out of the hospital. … Relieved to hear your cold has left you. So it was pneumonia that you had, you must have had quite a tough time at that. However, that spot that you speak of being on your lung is natural after pneumonia. That will be there for a while. Don’t let it worry you. I’m sure if it was something serious they wouldn’t have discharged you from the hospital.
Charlie, when I said ‘keep out of drafts’ it was just a figure of speech. I’m well aware of the fact that you are at war and live out in the open at all times and are under the weather. I guess it did sound silly coming from me. … It’s a comfort to hear … that you still laugh at it all. That’s the only way Charlie. You must have to take things in stride or you’re bound to be a goner. It makes me so proud to hear you talk like this. I’m thankful above all for it makes me confident that you can take it no matter how rough it is for you. Keep up the grand work Charlie, you’ll never regret it. I’m inclined to agree with you when you say ‘it sure seems as tho it will last forever’ — guess that’s because it has gone into the years already. But it’s only natural for us to all have that outlook when something goes on for so long a time and continues strong, not knowing just when the ending will be — but it will end someday, that we know, it just can’t go on forever. One must have faith and confidence. … Pretty quiet around these parts, but I guess that isn’t news anymore. …
P.S. — That fancy paper was really something. I’ll settle for the good old U.S.A. stationery tho. German paper huh — it looks as crazy as they are. But am glad you sent it. Sort of a souvenir. Catch?
In that letter, Mom also remembered Charlie’s wedding anniversary, which had just passed. She was saddened that she couldn’t find any card that seemed
appropriate with you in Belgium + Ann out here. I’ll say the Next Best Thing and most appropriate under the circumstances. I only hope and pray that by your next anniversary you + Ann are together again in your own home with nothing but the best for you and even the best isn’t good enough. You’ll make up for lost time Charlie. Mark my words. Never forget that.
Mom’s Thanksgiving Day note to Charlie, dated November 23, 1944, was inside another unopened returned envelope, marked “Missing” on its front. Charlie was most likely embedded in those American forces that reached the Siegfried Line (or “Westwall”), a defensive fortification built by the Nazis in the 1930s along the western border of Germany. The Battle of Aachen resulted in the first Allied capture of a German city. It entailed one of the largest urban campaigns fought during World War II. Charlie had been writing to his wife Ann, who kept other family members abreast of the developments. Mom wrote:
Time sure makes a lot of changes. … Today finds you many miles from home. … that’s the penalty of war. Thanksgiving is a day for thanks. Having you + Georgie away isn’t my idea of anything to be thankful for but to have you so far away and to be under the danger you are and have been and to know you are well and safe is plenty to be thankful for. … None of us will really enjoy any holiday until we are all together again. … Mom, Tessie + [her then husband] Joe had their dinner out at an Italian Restaurant somewhere in Coney Island — soup to nuts. Well, I’m glad especially for Mom’s sake as I know she never would have had her heart in fussing at home. It saved her a lot work. … The news of you being in Germany sure was a great surprise. Take care, Charlie, extra care — don’t fail us now.
Around this time, Mom received three letters from Charlie, which were not among the letters I found. At the time, Mom was dealing with a series of difficult health issues. She had a thyroidectomy and had struggled with recovery. Around Thanksgiving, she developed a severe case of bronchitis and was falling behind in her correspondence. Moreover, her nerves were frayed as the war raged on and as her loved ones were still fighting abroad. Things only got worse for her as the Christmas holidays approached.
On December 4, 1944, she replied briefly to Charlie:
Boy, I bet if the censors would allow it, you sure could write about many an exciting incident. Well that will have to wait till after this damn mess is over with. … We’re pulling for you Charlie.
Ten days later, Mom expressed her own anxieties every time she received either a letter — or a returned letter. She explained that having “nobody around is bad enough but to have such a great shock in the mail is more than we can take. It sure puts us into some awful disturbing moods.”
By December 20, 1944, in another unopened letter returned with the word “Missing” on its front envelope, Mom states:
It’s been quite some time since we heard from you. I know under the circumstances it’s pretty difficult for you to write as regularly as before however I do hope that we get to hear from you before the end of this week is up. … In your last letter you said we can keep up with the news on you thru the newspapers. Charlie — which army are you connected with? Is it the one you were always with or have you been changed. The news are really something and it sure sends me sick. It’s pretty hot where you are now.
With the Battle of the Bulge raging on the border of Belgium and Luxemburg, and the Siegfried Line sitting on the eastern border of Luxemburg, Charlie sure was in the middle of a “pretty hot” situation. Mom had received a letter from Charlie on December 29; his letter had been dated more than a month prior to that date: November 26, 1944. The delivery delays were, no doubt, distressing. Mom replied as soon as she received Charlie’s letter:
I messed up on writing you on Christmas day, this being the first time I ever messed up on any holiday. … Charlie, this was the worst holiday yet. It couldn’t have been more miserable. There was no spirit no how, nowhere, it just sort of left me so down in the dumps that I couldn’t write if I had wanted to for fear that I might bring you feeling too down. Must I say more Charlie? All I know is if we have to all be apart another Christmas, I will just close myself in my room + not go out at all. Next year must find us together again. This just can’t keep up like this much longer. …
Today I finally got a letter from you and tho it’s over a month old, I was nevertheless very happy to hear from you + to know that you were well. Your letter was dated Nov. 26 — and telling me that you received my package. … Don’t ever say that you really don’t deserve our treating you so swell. In the first place, it’s not being swell on our parts to write you as often as possible or send a little something now and then — that’s the best we could do for a guy whose out here sweating blood so we could live comfortably in years to come. As for you wishing you could send gifts, it’s a sweet thought on your part and we love you for it, but the only Xmas present we want from you is to have them send you home and until then a letter from you regularly to know you’re safe + well is all the presents we want. It did us good to hear that you were resting in Luxemburg and it sure sounded good to hear how peaceful + what a pleasure it is going to bed without having to hear their guns going off all night long. However that was a month ago. And from the news Luxemburg isn’t too peaceful anymore. Am I right? Does that mean you are back in action? …
Charlie Sitra [Dad’s cousin] came out with something that turned my stomach upside down. … They tell me that thru someone they heard that you spoke over the radio overseas broadcast from Luxemburg on Xmas day over WNEW — that you said you had a brother in Italy, your Mom lived on Kings Highway [in Brooklyn], etc. Charlie is it true? Damn it, leave it to us to not hear it. I could kick myself. What gets me, year in + year out I’ve listened to those broadcasts but this year affected me so that I was just a total wreck, not much use to myself. Why I didn’t even dress up for the supposed holiday. I can’t wait to hear from you that this was so and if you did speak on that day, tho I missed it as the cursed luck of ours always is to miss out on the good. All I can say is that I’m thankful to hear that you were well. … I’ll never get over it that we didn’t hear it. It just goes to show we must have patience. If I hadn’t lost patience this year + put on that broadcast like other years, I would have heard you. I’m still thankful to know you’re okay.
Though Mom typically wrote to Charlie, Dad also wrote a few letters to his brother. After the New Year, on January 3, 1945, Dad echoed Mom’s melancholy holiday mood:
I had a very miserable time Xmas + New Year because you guys are away but I am hoping for a much better time next year. I am hoping to have you and George with me and you two guys will have to carry me because I am going to get so drunk I am going to spend a week or so in bed. … All I have to say is I hope that the new year brings us victory and a grand reunion. Well let’s hope we will all be together next year.
Prisoners of War
Two days later, on January 5, 1945 — as I mentioned in my previous installment — my Aunt Joan’s husband, Frank J. Rubino, was killed in the Battle of the Bulge. After word reached the family of Frank’s death, all correspondence with Charlie went silent. The silence must have been beyond awful.
On April 11, 1945, Charlie’s thirty-third birthday, Mom received a letter from him. The letter is not among the group of letters I found. But according to Mom’s correspondence, Charlie’s letter was dated January 25, 1945, the day on which the German “Bulge” offensive ended. Charlie informed Mom that he had been captured by the Germans and was in a Prisoner of War camp. Charlie’s wife Ann and his mother Concetta received similar letters around the same time. Mom immediately replied to Charlie. Unfortunately, he never received any of her letters. They were all returned from the War Department. Mom wrote:
You’ll never know how happy and relieved we are to finally hear from you and right on your birthday too. These past months have been the most miserable, however I just knew you’d come thru for us right on your birthday. Thank God you’re well and safe, believe me that’s all that matters. … God there’s so much to say and somehow from the overwhelming joy to know you’re alive, I just can’t seem to find words to express myself. All I can say is that the first time in months, since you were reported missing, we are all feeling a little more like ourselves. Now more than ever, I believe and have all the faith in the world that you’ll come thru for us as long as you are away from home. … So much of your mail was sent back to us along with a couple of packages … Sure was an awful feeling while it lasted, thank God, that’s over with. Just take care of yourself. … Your card to Mom and Ann sure took long enough to get to them and only hope now that we get to hear from you a little more regularly. I don’t believe your time is your own so I doubt if you’ll be able to write as often as in the past. So if you can’t get to write to us don’t worry about it. You know as always the main thing is that Ann + Mom get mail from you regularly.
On April 15, 1945, Mom sent another letter to Charlie, this one addressed directly to the German POW camp. That letter was “Returned to Sender by Direction of the War Department. Undeliverable as Addressed.” Mom wrote:
Dear Charlie, Just a few lines to let you know we’re thinking of you and still so happy over having heard from you finally that it just seems unbelievable. … Hope by this time that the mail has begun to come thru to you. If we have had to wait 3 ½ months to hear from you, I can just imagine how much longer it has been for you, for we get mail back dated as early as the beginning of November, so it sure must be a heck of a long time since you heard. … Ann came over on Thursday [April 12, 1945], the day after she got your card and it sure was a relief … I still don’t know how our patience held out so long, it’s been quite a terrific tension we were under. … There’s so much I would like to know, but I know how hard it is for you to say much or any more than you do. However, I’ve learned to have a lot of patience so I guess I can wait for it all for another time.
Dad wrote to his brother on April 16, 1945: “Just to let you know how happy I am to know that you are well and safe, your birthday was the happiest day for us because that was the day we heard from you.” In a separate letter on that same date, Mom told Charlie how his mother was handling his capture and German imprisonment. She also revealed that George, who was still fighting in Europe, remained unaware of Charlie’s status:
Mom … proved to be quite a trooper, Charlie, bless her. She came thru for us with flying colors. Like any mother, well, she sure felt for her son, but never did she give up hope. … Still can’t believe I’m actually writing you and that soon you’ll be getting mail from us all. I can just imagine how terrible it must have been for you all this time not hearing from us all, but once the mail does start to come thru to you, you can rest assured there’ll … be no let-up, they’ll just keep rolling in. … I got a letter from Georgie today, still doesn’t know as yet that we have heard from you. Naturally his letter was … all on you. Wish I could be next to him when he gets the cablegram I sent him. He’ll no doubt be just like all of us a big baby — at least our tears were from joy this time.
Mom’s words resonated with me. Hearing of her brother-in-law Frank’s death during the Battle of the Bulge was devastating for her and the entire family. Now with another brother-in-law sitting in a German POW camp, Mom was experiencing “tears … from joy,” a relief from those unimaginable tears of grief. Mom always taught us, “where there’s life, there’s hope.” Just learning that Charlie was alive, gave Mom and the family the hope they needed to get through another day.
Mom continued to write daily letters to Charlie. Another went out on April 17, 1945: “Wish we could get more mail,” Mom wrote. “Your card was … practically three months old.” And on April 18, she wrote yet another letter:
Hope that our mail has begun to reach you. Meanwhile it can’t happen soon enough to get more recent news of you. … We are all okay, living under quite a tension but under the circumstances, it is expected. Only hope to God it won’t be too long before we’re all together, and this mess is good and over with. It’s going to be heavenly, so wonderful to go back to those good old days. You have plenty to look forward to so never give up hope, someday soon, that long awaited silver lining which we always spoke of will come out. What a happy day that will be for each and every one of us. … Try hard to not let anything get you down. You’ve been thru so much already, don’t fail us now, we’re counting on you more than ever.
Dad wrote to Charlie on April 19, 1945, letting him know that they had received a letter from George: “He is fine and always asks for you.” Three days later, on April 22, 1945, Mom told Charlie that she had spoken over the phone with his wife Ann, who had received an official government telegram
saying that you were a prisoner. That more or less made us feel that that must have been a more recent communication so it more or less helps to make up for your old card dated the 10 + 25 of Jan. Naturally, there’s nothing like hearing direct from you Charlie. … Don’t ever lose hope + patience, we’re too near the end to give up now. God keep you well and speed you home to us real soon.
By April 24, Mom continued sending daily communications to Charlie using shortened “Prisoner of War Post” cards, all of which were returned to sender — none of which had been re-opened until now. She told Charlie: “I called up Ann, your wife, tonight and spoke for quite a while with her. Much to my disappointment, she tells me she has had no further word from you but is hoping that soon she will hear. The same going for all of us.” She repeated that message on April 26: “No further word from you but are hoping that it won’t be too long before we’ll be hearing from you again.” And on April 30:
Our only hopes and thoughts are for you and naturally all of the boys who are away from home. We live from day to day with the hope that tomorrow will bring peace on earth and as the saying goes, good will to men. … Best wishes for a speedy return home. God bless you, watch over you, keep you well. Regards, love and kisses from us all.
A little more than a week later, on May 8, 1945, the Nazis surrendered unconditionally to the Western Allied forces (their surrender to the Soviets was delayed by one day). Charlie was liberated from that POW camp and he returned to the United States.
With “this mess … good and over with,” as they all had hoped, there’s no doubt that Charlie’s reunion with family provided long overdue moments of joy, which had escaped him for all those years he served honorably in the war. The family never quite returned to those “good old days.” They had wonderful times for sure. They celebrated birthdays, raised families, worked hard, and built lives for themselves and their loved ones. But in many respects, all those who survived were ‘prisoners of war’. Their collective experiences forever changed their outlooks on life.
In the years that I knew my Uncle Charlie, he was never a very talkative guy. His quiet demeanor was in sharp contrast to the lengthier letters of his that I read in preparation for this series. I was told by others that he never discussed his war experiences and that the trauma of those years had deleteriously affected him. His silence spoke volumes. There seemed to be a certain sadness about him that not even his sweet smile could conceal. It is not without some irony that he was officially released from the army on October 7, 1945 and that he died on that same date in 1973 at the age of 61.
By contrast, Charlie’s brother, my Uncle George, retained an effervescent sense of life that could not be dulled. He married my Aunt Margaret in 1953; they had a son in 1957, my cousin Carl, who sadly passed away at the age of 46 in 2003. George himself died of brain cancer at the age of 66 on December 30, 1988.
A Tribute to My Uncle Tony
Other relatives served in the European theater of World War II, including my Aunt Joan’s second husband, Albert Milella, who was involved in the North African campaign in 1942, and my mother’s sister Mary’s future husband, Anthony (“Tony”) Jannace, whose army war years extended from February 14, 1942 to October 28, 1945. It was on October 28, 1945 that Mary met Tony at the Brooklyn Army Base. They went on their first official date on November 2, 1945, and were married five years later, almost to the day, on November 5, 1950. They had three children: my dear cousins Paul, William, and Susan. My Aunt Mary passed away on October 12, 2024, at the age of 102.
In his eulogy for my Aunt Mary, my cousin William highlighted the issue of post-traumatic stress disorder, which affected not only his father but so many veterans who had returned from the war. He observed:
Marriages are often tested with health issues, but in my parents’ case it was tested before they were married. In 1945 [Mary] met a soldier who returned from WWII with a noticeable limp and shell shocked (what we refer to today as PTSD) in need of alcohol as a crutch.
Through her love and support, as well as with support from loving parents (my grandparents) and siblings (my aunts and uncles) particularly one sibling, his brother Joe, who was his guardian angel on earth, he overcame this problem and no longer needed that crutch. Her greatest legacy was to raise a daughter who embodied her altruism and selflessness. Our Sister, Susan, in many ways captures the essence of my mother’s heart and soul.
William also wrote a moving tribute to his father for the Eisenhower Foundation:
My father, Anthony E. Jannace, enlisted in the U.S. Army after Pearl Harbor was bombed and served in the Second Engineer Combat Battalion of the Second Infantry Division, in the European Theater of Operations [ETO] during WWII. He participated in five campaigns: The Battle of Normandy, Northern France (Brest), Ardennes-Alsace, the Rhineland, and Central Europe. The battalion he served in received a Presidential Unit Citation (one of 16 the division received) for its heroism during the Battle of the Bulge. During one week in the battle, approximately 25% of the battalion suffered casualties while being caught behind the German pincer movements in the Ardennes. He was wounded twice: frost bite and mortar shrapnel and he received The Purple Heart in April 1945 (one of approximately 5,193 awarded to his comrades). He participated as well in the Liberation of Pilsen in May 1945.
The Second Infantry Division participated in five campaigns in the ETO, including the Elsenborn Ridge Defense from December 20, 1944 until January 29, 1945 during the Battle of the Bulge … The Germans were defeated at Elsenborn and the Battle was won in Bastogne. It served approximately 337 days in combat, with 320 in contact with the enemy, including 209 straight days in contact with the enemy. It traveled approximately 1,750 miles in combat from Omaha Beach to Pilsen, capturing approximately 70,300 prisoners of war. The division sustained over 15,000 casualties during this period, including nearly 3,000 killed in action. The Second Infantry Division is also a recognized Liberating Unit, having been involved in the liberation of Leipzig Schönefeld (Buchenwald subcamp) and Spergau (labor education camp) in April 1945.
Like so many veterans, he spoke little about his experiences during the war. After active duty he served in the U.S. Army Reserves where he retired as an SFC [Sergeant First Class]. He was also a member of the DAV [Disabled American Veterans]. He died in October 1983 after having served nearly 30 years in defense of our country and our freedom. Although wounded twice, he considered his fallen comrades that never returned home the real heroes of the war.
During the Second World War, the battles in Europe weren’t the only ones being fought. Other battles were raging across other continents and vast bodies of water. The war against the Empire of Japan had its own unique challenges.
In next week’s final installment, I turn to “The Navy Boys”, those relatives and friends of the family who sent letters from the Pacific. It is a fitting finale to the series, since next Tuesday marks the eightieth anniversary of the date on which Japan formally surrendered to the Allied forces aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay, thus ending the deadliest war in human history.
Series Installments
Part I: Letters Found (August 12, 2025)
Part II: Frank J. Rubino (August 19, 2025)
Part III: George & Charlie (August 26, 2025)
Part IV: The Navy Boys (September 2, 2025)
