Top: Left To Right; Horace Evers, George Haynes, Bill Chapin, Erwin Blonder
Bottom: Left To Right; Bill Lynn, George Rarey, Paul Mitchell, Frank Conwell
Dearest Mom and Lou, A year ago today I was sweating out shells on Anzio Beachhead ; today I am sitting in Hitler’s luxuriously furnished apartment in Munich writing a few lines home. ; What a contrast. ; A still greater contrast is that between his quarters here and the living hell of DACHAU Concentration Camp only 10 miles from here. ; I had the misfortune of seeing the camp yesterday and I still find it hard to believe what my eyes told me.- A railroad runs alongside the camp and as we walked toward the box cars on the track I thought of some of the stories I previously had read about DACHAU and was glad of the chance to see for myself just to prove once and for all that what I had heard was propaganda. ; But no it wasn’t propaganda at all ; if anything ; some of the truth had been held back. In two years of combat you can imagine I have seen a lot of death, furious deaths mostly. But nothing has ever stirred me as much as this. The first box car I came to had about 30 what were once humans in it. ; All were just bone with a layer of skin over them. Most of the eyes were open and had an undescribable look about them. They had that beaten "what did I do to deserve this" look. Twenty to thirty other box cars were the same. Bodies on top of each other ; no telling how many. No identification as far as I could see. ; And then into the camp itself. ; Filthy barracks suitable for about 200 persons held 1500. 160,000 persons were originally in the camp and 32,000 were alive (or almost alive) when we arrived.- There is a gas chamber and furnace room in one barracks.; Two rooms were full of bodies waiting to be cremated. ; In one room they were all nude -in the other they had prison clothes on ; As filthy as dirt itself. How can people do things like that? I never believed they could until now. Well enough for now- Miss you all very much. Your son, Horace
Letter from George Hynes Amberley Stalion, Australia Jan. 26, 1941
Dearest Folks, We are taking off tomorrow morning on a secret mission. I hope to be able to bring my ship through so that I can be of some help in saving the lives of my friends. If I get through you won’t get this, for this will be mailed after I’ve gone. Please don’t let my going change your life too much. I know that I’m the only son. Remember that I did try to make a success of myself and make you two feel proud of me. About my ship- It’s really beautiful. My name is painted on the left hand side of the cowling. My ... chief has taught me plenty on how to take care of it. I thought I knew something about air planes before I came here, but I really found out how dumb I was. My foot locker will be home before this will, so if you haven’t opened it before this gets there go ahead and dispose of the clothing in any way you see fit. Only one thing- I want Dad to have my camera. Mother, please take it easy. You and Dad deserve so much. You two really made me appreciate a good home- If everyone had the swell parents and good home that I have had there would be nothing like this happening. Pray for me and God bless you. Your loving son, George Jr.
Letter from Bill Chapin May 15, 1945 16th Fd. Hos. U.S. Army Linz, Austria
My Darling, I hope, and feel almost sure, that I shall get home before this letter does, but thought I’d better write anyway in case of any delay. Right now there are a few of us here in a hospital waiting for hospital airplanes to evacuate us to England. Probably right now you are worried about my condition after reading about the atrocities in Stalags. You may rest assured that I am not suffering from malnutrition, and don’t look like the pictures you’ve seen. We had them too, but they were not Americans. I don’t know if any of my letters from prison reached you. After I was wounded the Germans amputated my right foot. Again I assure you that it was necessary, because it was practically off anyway. After you get over the initial shock you will come to realize that it is of very little consequence with the artificial limbs they give you now. There are plenty of us like that, (four in our little group) and our morale is very very high, I assure you. We baffle the doctors and they have a difficult time keeping us from crutching all over town here. I read, here, of a P.38 pilot, (P.W.) now playing major league baseball with a wooden leg, so judge for yourself. I shall have to have another operation on the leg when I get home, but that is normal. Naturally I have enough to tell you to fill a book, and want to be with you when I do it, so I’ll only give you the barest details here. In short, it was dammed rough, but as you can see by the way they treated there political prisoners & civilian prisoners it could have been a thousand times worse. I expect it’s been just as bad for you, what with worrying, but it’s all over now. I was shot down in lower Yugoslavia over a disgustingly easy target. (I volunteered for the mission, in fact argued to get on it, it was no easy!). Then I took part in the German evacuation from Greece through Yugoslavia, considerably harassed by partisans, our fighters and bombers. Finally arrived at a P.O.W. camp at Krems, Austria, on the Danube, about 70 kilometers from Vienna. Most of the Americans there were 8th A.F. enlisted men, some with 2 years PW service. We were liberated by the Red Army after the capitulation, on May 10th. The Jerries didn’t lay down their weapons. One of my greatest moments was waking up one morning and watching Soviet artillery roll up to the camp. The Jerries had withdrawn under fire the night before. I think we were the last Americans to be liberated in Europe, about 140 of us. A greater moment will be when I see you again, my darling, and it won’t be long. So cheer up and don’t worry about me. I’m alive and very much kicking. Love, Bill
Dear Jerry, Today is the first time I have had to sit down and write some letters. I know how anxious everyone at home must be about me since I am now in combat. They will have to trust in God as I am doing and hope and pray that this mess is over soon and we can all come home. I am allowed to write of my own personal combat experiences and I can say that I have been fortunate so far. War is like something you cannot imagine. I had no idea what it was about and still don’t. The day I landed I got my first baptism of fire. When we hit the beach a few German shells came screaming in and one hit about 20 ft away from me. I was well protected because I still was on the boat but it sure scared the hell out of me and I never sweated so much in my life. I hope I never get that close to one again. As you know I am with the Service Company of our battalion and my job is to find out where the supplies are located and get them for the battalion. It’s kind of risky when you go through an area where German shells a falling. While driving in a vehicle -he only thing to do is keep moving. The other night we were driving on such a road and wham came a few shells which landed about 100 yds up the road. Well, until I had gone a 1/4 of a mile I had had another good sweat and praying to God for all it was worth. I haven’t encountered any small arms fire as yet or have come across any snipers and hope that I won’t have to. There are things I have seen here that I will never forget as long as I live. They are the things I finally feel we are fighting for. The French are wonderful people. I admire them a great deal. When you see the cheering throngs lining the streets of every village, town, and city you realize that the faces of these people tell you what this war is all about. For four years they have waited patiently and with hope for liberation. They haven’t smiled and keep their eyes on the ground where they walked. When we enter their towns they smile for the first time and they now walk with their heads up. They have done a wonderful job helping us and are saving us a lot of hard dirty work. They are true friends and ask for nothing. They shower us with flowers, fruits and tomatoes. They yell Viva La American. I will never forget these people here in Southern France as long as I live. Don’t show this letter to Shirley or Mom because I don’t want them to know about my combat experiences. I hope that this letter finds you all well and fine at home. I know that I will be back and when I get home I want to spend every minute of the day with my wife. I miss her tremendously and never knew that I could yearn for a person so darn much. I think of her constantly and feel that I really have her here next to me. Take care of yourself and write me a letter. Mom wrote and said she is going to Battle Creek with Dad so make sure they do it. Give my love to Dorothy and Karen. Your brother, Eric
Dear Mom, This is the lousy place in the world. Our cloths they gave us are to big for some of us. I got my shots today and they really do hurt me. The sargents crabby. Just because a boy forgot something when we were moving the man kicked him and made him run all the way over to the other camp & get it. We go to bed at 9:00 and get up at 5:00. Mom tell them the truth about my age & get me out of here. I am getting so lonley I think I will die. We had to get all of our hair cut off but about a half inch. Hurry as soon a possible if you can. Try to get me out by Sunday at least. We had to polish & wash windows last night at 9:00 o’clock. I have enclosed the bill. Sorry I did not write sooner. Mom if you only knew how I feel you would not wait to get me out. Send me some cloths when you come get me out. Write me some because I have put some stamps in for air mail. You have to walk on you tiptoes so it will not make to much noise. The Sarg. made that up. Tell evrybody I said hello. How’s Sandy. Your son, Bill Write to me: Pvt. William L. Lynn Plat. 120 R.D. M.C.B. San Diego, Ca.
Darling, Darling, Junie! Junie, this happiness is right unbearable ; Got back from a mission at 4:00 this afternoon and came up to the hut for a quick shave before chow and what did I see the deacon waving at me as I walked up the road to the shack? A small yellow envelope ; I thought it was a little early but I quit breathing completely until the wonderful news was unfolded ; A son! Darling, Junie! How did you do it? ; I’m so proud of you I’m beside myself ; Oh you darling ; All of the boys in the squadron went wild. Oh it’s wonderful! I had saved my tobacco ration for the last two weeks and had obtained a box of good American cigars ; Old Doc Finn trotted out two quarts of Black & White from his medicine chest and we all toasted the fine new son and his beautiful Mother. Old Bill is proud and almost as excited as I am ; He told me that he had known all along that Old Damon would show up ahead of schedule but he didn’t say a word until after the fine news ; Junie, you rascal, why didn’t you let me know? I think that I’ve had just about the easiest time of it that any father has had ; I was just getting down to the really serious part of the floor pacing ; When whamie! I find that Old Junie has done the whole thing without the unnecessary moaning and hollering from the Old Man ; And they say the Woman is the weaker of the sexes ; Fooie ; You’re terrific! Golly I’m anxious to know all the details ; I figure Damon was born on the 19th ; I wonder what he weighs and all about him. Tell him that he has the proudest, happiest and luckiest Pop in the whole world. Junie if this letter makes no sense forget it- I’m sort of delirious- Today everything is special ; This iron hut looks like a castle ; The low hanging overcast outside is the most beautiful hue of blue I’ve ever seen ; I’m a father ; I have a son! My darling wife has had a fine boy and I’m a king ; Junie, Darling I hope it wasn’t too bad ; Oh I’m so glad it’s over ; Thank you, Junie- Thank you- thank you- This is really living! I shall dash into town in the morning and get a wire off to you ; You send them from the post office and their hours are rather odd ; I’ll have to check on it ; Junie, thank Emily for sending the news so quickly ; She’s wonderful! Oh, Junie, I wish I could be there ; Now I think maybe I could be of some help ; There are so many things to be done ; What a ridiculous and worthless thing a war is in the light of such a wonderful event. That there will be no war for Damon! Junie, isn’t there anything I can do to help out ; This letter is pretty jumbled ; I haven’t been alone yet ; My thoughts are jumbled and the happiness and joy just sort of overwhelm me. I want to take a walk by myself tonight and just sort of order my thoughts a little ; I might even pray a little ; But Junie, when I think of you and Damon that’s in the nature of a prayer ; I worship you both and believe in you as in nothing else ; Oh my beautiful darling, I love you more and more and more ; Gosh, I’m happy! ; Sweet dreams my sweet Mother. Love, Rarey
In 1942, George Rarey, a young cartoonist and commercial artist, was drafted into the Army Air Corps. He flew a P-47 before he drove a car. During his service he kept a cartoon journal of daily life in the 379th Fighter Squadron. A few weeks after D-Day, Rarey was killed in combat over France.
This is a selection of some of his work and notes contributed by members of his unit and family. The sketchbook includes anecdotes, portraits and profiles of his fellow aviators, and a collection of airplane nose art.
Letter from Paul Mitchell May 28, 1944 Anzio, Italy
Dear Mitchell: As I told you in the V-Mail, I have seen some action- a few hard, hard, days in which I saw more than I imagined I ever would.... I thought I had been tired before in my life, but nothing like this; but still you can and do go on. You don't get so very hungry, but thirst drives you crazy. I have drunk water with everything in it and liked it. You have no energy but still you go on. The battle seems like something in a faraway land, and everything seems sad, lonely, and dark. The roar is even as bad as the movies have it. The cries of the wounded are pitiful. They seem so helpless. The dead seem forsaken, but they are out of it all as in the Masonic textbook-"The gentle breeze fans their verdant covering, they heed it not, sunshine and storm pass over them, they are neither delighted nor disturbed"- so it is in this battle, the things rage on all around them, but they are still and quiet. You wanted to know how I felt after I saw action and I have told you all I can that will pass the censors; I imagine all new men feel about the same and I know old men feel differently and so will I, but that's for now. Love, Paul
Letter from Frank Conwell W.O. Frank J. Conwell Headquarters Battery 103rd AAA (AW) Bn. APO 230, New York, N.Y. February 6, 1945 ON THE WESTERN FRONT
Hello John, Ann and all the Little Ones: The weather has been very cold over here with plenty of snow, snow and more snow. As I look at the kids sledding, throwing snow balls, etc., it brings back many memories of the good times I had when I was a kid. All us lads from the Northern states remember it well. As kids we loved it. Took out our Flexible Flyers and went belly-whopping down the hills. Made snow men with it. Packed it into hard, round balls that caught other kids in the head and melted down the backs of their necks. When our hands got red and our feet got cold we would call it a day. We would go indoors to a hot fire and a good scolding for getting our feet wet. We would put on dry socks and shoes and eat hot chow to take off the chill. When we were kids snow sure was fun. There’s a lot of snow on the Western Front these days, and the country looks like a Christmas card. The trees are like old queens stooping under the weight of their ermine robes. The wires loop from pole to pole like tinsel on a Christmas tree, except where the weight of ice and snow has pulled them down and the signal repairmen are patching them. Snow lies smooth on the hillsides ; it’s beautiful. But the Flexible Flyers have turned into tanks. The snow men are Schutzstaffel. The snowballs are grenades. The wet stuff trickling down the back of necks is often blood. And when you’re wet and numb with cold there’s no place to go to. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing but snow, Cold, wet, beautiful snow. The news certainly is good these days and I hope it continues. With so many Nazis dying for Der Fuehrer there is a possibility that Hades is beginning to look like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. And with all the bombing and shelling of Germany today, Hitler has achieved what he always strived for A CRATER GERMANY. Well folks this is all for now so I’ll say so-long for awhile. Hoping this letter finds you all in the best of health, I remain Sincerely, Frank
These letters were originally published by Stars and Stripes Newspaper, A Us Military Publication, shortly after VE Day, to inform people of the horrors of war, and what our WW2 Heros went through and saw. The reprint, on-line version of these letters and photos was presented by Military.com in about 2002.
In the short description in Military.com, it stated that these were the last letters written by these soldiers. As it turns out, some of the letters may have been the last letters written before returning home. It is now known that Erwin Blonder survived WW2, and possibly others. In recent correspondence from Erwin Blonder, he writes: Dear Sir: At the end of your article on letters you stated that all the men pictured were killed in action.I am happy to report that I am still alive and healthy at the age of 86. Do not include my name as one killed in action. A favor of a reply will be appreciated ERwin H. Blonder
Webmaster's Note: I misinterpreted "The Last Letter" as meaning "Killed in Action". This in no way diminishes their sacrifice for our country. They are important pieces of our history that are preserved on this webpage.
About Copyright: THIS WEBPAGE IS NOT UNDER COPYRIGHT, and is run as a Public Service. The letters and photos were copied from MILITARY.COM, which articles, like Stars and Stripes, are part of the Public Domain, as defined below:
17 U.S.C.§ 105 withholds copyright protection from any work of the United States Government, defined in 17 U.S.C.§ 101 as "a work prepared by an officer or employee of the United States Government as part of that person's official duties." Any such work is therefore in the public domain.
