Correspondence
from a Wartime Courtship & Marriage
Westervelt
(RC '43) & Marie (UC '67) Griffin
June
11, 1943 - June 12, 1945
1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-22-23-24-25-26-27-28-29-30-31-32-33-34-35-36
An Interview
With Marie Griffin (March 16, 1996 in Barre, Vermont)
[Cresskill, N.J.--from the envelope]
June 11, 1943
Dear Marie,
I told you so much of this and that over the phone last
night, I have to stop and think (I can do it once in a while), about what I
said, so I don't repeat myself.
It was good to hear your voice again, even if it had to be
over the phone, but I'm hoping maybe I'll be able to see you again soon!
The work I'm doing is gradually beginning to make sense,
and take on more and more clarity, as the days go by. It's natural, I guess for the first few weeks to be more or less
of a muddle, and rather mixed up. Each
day one more step is explained, and another phase of the work becomes my baby.
To date, the County Agent's Office is a clearing house for
advice and information for the farmers, incorporating everything from planting
schedules to disease control, and labor supply and management.
In addition, the victory gardeners and backyard poultry
flock owners phone, write, and visit seeking information relative to
management, feeding, spraying, housing, and every other conceivable problem
that confronts them.
At present my time is spent half in the office, and half in
the field, covering twenty to thirty miles a day, helping the farmers in
Passaic county in every way I possibly can.
This may make you think I'm an egotist, because it is
"I'd" so much, but one has to be truly an artist to talk about his
work and not make it a tale in the first person. Result, I'm not an "artist."
Betsy (the car), you know the one with the black body and
red wheels, is back safe and sound, with no damage done, for which yours truly
is very grateful. I think I told you
this over the phone, but no harm done in repeating it, (I hope)!
If you feel like writing a fellow Bergen County-ite, I would
like to hear from you. Lots of luck in
your nurse's aid course.
Very sincerely
Wes.
Paterson, NJ
July 16, 1943
Dear Marie,
This letter is long overdue, and I guess the author is in
the dog house for not calling you on Monday as I promised. There is an explanation.
Monday afternoon I left for New Brunswick and didn't get
back until Wednesday night about 10 p.m. Since then I have been working until ten and eleven Thursday and tonight
the same trying to catch up on work that came in while I was gone.
Monday, I had planned to come home by way of Hillsdale, and
surprise you but 3 pm a call came from the Experiment, and I was on the road
for New Brunswick in fifteen minutes.
The phone here in the office keeps ringing and interrupts
the line of thought, thus the jumpy words, and mark overs.
Very sincerely
Wes.
Cresskill, NJ
June 27, 1943
Dear Marie,
This month has fairly flown by, and for the life of me I
can't figure where it has gone. Each
day has found the work more and more interesting and varied. Some days have been very busy, which made
the clock spin so fast, quitting time came and nothing much seemed to have been
accomplished, but thank goodness it was only an illusion.
The night work comes in spurts. This past week I had no meetings of any kind, which this week I'm
out Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Not to speak of Friday, which I am looking forward to. It will be very nice to see you again.
Beginning Thursday, July 1st I live in Paterson,
and come home Weekends. I'd rather live
home, but when the purse strings man talks about Passaic County residence,
yours truly has to fall in line.
Today has been a busy one. Since 8 this morning, we've been out working about the place, weeding
the garden, spraying, and finally relaxing under the trees listening to the
radio just before supper. After eating
we all cleaned up and took life easy until bedtime.
This isn't much of a letter, nor does it say very much, but
I will be seeing you soon, so maybe you'll forgive a tired lad.
Very sincerely
Wes.
Paterson, NJ
July 28, 1943
Dear Marie,
I didn't mean to wait this long to write you, but the time just
seems to develop wings and fly away. I'm sitting at the office desk writing before I go out for supper. Now I get home weekends only, from Saturday
noon to Monday morning, the rest of the week is spent in good old Passaic
County. I've come across some very
pretty spots I never knew existed. Rolling hills, winding roads with lots of trees and woods, farms with
well kept bar[n]s and houses, some with white fences, others without.
The room I have is in a house on the side of Garrett
Mountain, and looks out over the valley. At night it is really pretty to sit by the window reading in a lounge
chair or to lie in bed and see the lights blinking on and off in the valley
below, while overhead the stars are almost close enough to touch.
Here's the dope on the garden [in Hillsdale] as far as I
can give it to you. The pH may be all
greek to you but the figures in pounds of ground limestone will be something
tangible.
the Right Hand section has a pH of 5.2. This section needs 50 lbs. of ground
limestone per 1000 sq. ft.
The center section has a pH of 6.2. This section needs 10 lbs. of ground
limestone per 1000 sq. ft.
The left hand section has a pH of 5.1. This section needs 55 lbs. of ground
limestone per 1000 sq. ft.
The center section, the wet one, has a high nitrogen
content as I suspected. There is no way
that this condition can be corrected, however it can be used to good
advantage. There are some vegetables
that could use this excess nitrogen to promote leafy growth. A few of these are, Swiss chard, New Zealand
Spinach, everbearing spinach etc. These
plants in the center section should give large succulent leafy growth.
In the other sections any vegetable or flower can be grown.
Most likely the brussel sprouts were broccoli in the first
place. The soil would not cause this
transformation.
Usually on Sunday nights, I'm just about ready for a long
night's sleep, so I don't listen to it very often. The few nights I have heard it, I did enjoy it very much.
We gave Grace a party last Wednesday night. I knew she was leaving for South Carolina,
Saturday.
The writing paper is very nice, and quite attractive.
I have a surprise to show you one of these days when I can
get up to the house. At present my
gasoline supply is very limited, so I have to use the car with caution. I will see you soon, so just have
patience. I hope yours is better than
mine.
I do get a bit of relaxation now and then, so I guess the
all work and no play--will be staved off.
Hope to see you soon.
Sincerely
Wes.
P.S. If you write again
address--
Room 100 County Adm. Bld'g.
Paterson, N.J.
Otherwise the letter will lay on the table home all week.
Paterson, N.J.
August 11, 1943
Dear Marie,
Just a short note, with not much in it. I just can't wait for Saturday to roll
around; most likely because I'm looking forward to such a grand time when the
week is over.
The work has slacked off quite a bit, and we are not as
busy now as previously. I'm going to go
mail this on my way to supper, so if there isn't very much in the letter, blame
it on an empty stomach.
See you Saturday.
Sincerely
Wes.
[Clifton, N.J.--from the envelope]
August 16, 1943
Dear Marie,
I didn't get around to calling you yesterday; somehow the
morning was gone and here I was on my way to Little Falls before I knew it.
You left your jacket in the car Saturday night, and dopey
me didn't see it, until I was in Little Falls. I'll get it over to you this week sometime. If you feel like pushing a pen address all missles [missives?] to
Mr. Wes. Griffin. 599 Valley Rd., Clifton, N.J.
All of the gang liked you very much and "I sort of
kinda do too!''
I'm leaving for New Brunswick again tomorrow, and will be
back sometime Wednesday.
If you would like to see a fellow Bergen Countyite Sunday
night, he'll stop off on the way to Paterson about 7:30 pm Sunday.
Let me know by mail if you want to.
Sincerely
Wes.
Paterson, N.J.
September 2, 1943
Dear Marie,
This week has practically flew, and still you haven't had a
letter from me. Every day has been so very
busy, this is the first time I've a few moments to myself. There really isn't very much to say, but
nevertheless even a short note is better than none at all.
The cold is gone and the cough with it; result I'm nearly
normal.
The work at the house in Cresskill has been piling up
rather badly, and does need attention. Dad would like to get the drain under the driveway built and that is an
all-day job. The gas situation is getting
terrific; and in some places over half of the stations are closed. I'm very much afraid that we'll have to skip
this weekend and take up the next one. I hope you don't mind too much, but I think you'll understand. I'll give you a ring on the phone over the
weekend.
Sincerely
Wes.
Paterson, N.J.
September 29, 1943
Dear Marie,
Today is Wednesday already and still I haven't written you.
The cold is gradually localizing in the chest, and causing
quite a bit of coughing, but not too seriously.
On the whole I feel good! Bedtime has been early except for Monday night. I don't know about the weekend yet--Saturday
night is out, but I don't know about Sunday. The family is having company for the weekend, but I won't be home until
Sunday noon, or thereabouts. I'm afraid
mother and the family will want me to stay home Sunday night; but I can tell
you better, come Sunday.
What have you been up to this week?
All day Monday and Tuesday, people have been bringing in chickens,
bugs, soil fertilizer, yes even apples to find what they were--or what was
wrong with them and what caused it--or what it was made up of.
Today has been a trifle slow, so I'm taking office time to
write you. "Nice work if you can
get it," and even nicer when you get away with it!
See you soon--I hope--
Wes.
Paterson, NJ
October 14, 1943
Dear Marie,
I'm about twenty-four hours late writing, but as the saying
goes "better late than never."
Still have two more "nights out'' to go, plus Saturday
afternoon work., and then one day off. Having a holiday Tuesday [Columbus Day] has made the week seem short,
and here it is Thursday pm already.
There isn't enough time to get all the things done, I want
to, but I guess the same holds with everyone else.
Right now I'm rushing along to get this done before supper,
and another meeting. So if there are
slurred words and mark overs, please ignore them and puzzle through as best you
can.
This desk of mine just seems to go higher and higher. Monday and Tuesday I'll be in New Brunswick
again for a 4-H workshop conference and must be back in Paterson Tuesday night
for a beekeepers meeting at 7 p.m. Do
you think I can make the trip and eat supper in two hours. If you make a bet negative, I warn you
you'll lose!
That['s] all for now.
Wes.
Paterson, NJ
October 26, 1943
Dear Marie,
Here it is Tuesday night already, and the week is well on
its way toward the halfway mark.
I didn't get back to Paterson from Stockton until 1 AM
Monday, that is Sunday just past midnight. This sleepy head was late for work, since he rolled over to get those
forty winks again. Result--about thirty
minutes late--not too serious!
Your letter was waiting for me, and so of course I had to
read it before I turned in. Such a nice
note it was too!
It seems as though every time I sit down to write you, I
have to rush in order to get it done. Tonight is till in the groove! We have an executive meeting at eight o'clock. It is now 5:15 pm. and here is what has to be done before the
meeting.
1.
Eat supper--yep. I can use
some vitils [vittles]
2.
Make up my expense account. I didn't get it done today.
3.
Write a report on the 4-H work done since June 1st.
4.
Work out arguments for 4-H sub-committee of County Board.
Result--letter written in a rush again as usual. Will call you on phone Wed. pm between 6:30 and 7 p.m.
Sincerely
Wes.
Williams Inn
Williamstown, Massachusetts [hotel stationery]
November 6, 1943
Dear Marie,
Here we be! Walt Klammer
and I have a room with an easterly exposure and look out to the mountains when
the sun has just risen.
It is a bit hazy, but the sun is gradually burning it away.
We came over these mountains last night about 9:30 pm. It was dark and not a light on the
road. The cities and towns seemed to be
miles below in the valley as we went over the top of them.
This is a genuine colonial New England setting. Mountains all around you, and even very
large old trees. How I would love to be
in this setting Thanksgiving or may[be] Christmas.
Sincerely
Wes
Paterson, N.J.
Nov. 22 '43
Darling,
I'm writing tonight instead of tomorrow, so you have a letter
to read before you go to bed Tuesday.
Last night it poured all the way to Clifton, and was a
first class "rotten'' night.
Today I have been running soil sample tests all day,
practically, except for a few interruptions. If I can make it, I want to try to get some of my Christmas shopping
after work before the stores close. What I'll get, I have no idea. A
doll for Betty Ann, and cigarettes for Dad. Except for that, I've not decided.
We have quite a steady snow squall this morning, with a
nasty cold wind behind it, but no signs of it after lunch. Guess it will be much colder tonight. Good thing the Pontiac has anti-freeze in
it! yes?!
I'll call Tuesday most likely before you get home, but I
wish it would [be] your voice on the other end! A happy Thanksgiving to you!
Love
Wes.
According to the Separation Qualification Record issued with his
Honorable Discharge from the U.S. Army,
Wes was inducted into the Army on January 25, 1944.
The following letter, in Marie's hand, ostensibly comes from
Marie's infant godchild, John Leslie.
[Hillsdale, NJ]
Wed. April 26 [1944]
Dear Uncle Wes,
Mommy and Auntie Mitzi think I'm fast asleep, but I wanted
to tell you I've got them both fooled.
Right after my 6 o'clock bottle I cried and cried, and, of
course, when Auntie Mitzi came she brought me downstairs to play for a little
while. I laughed & smiled, even
looked at myself in the mirror over Auntie Mitzi's shoulder. Mommy feeds me so well--I eat cereal every
day; she gets mad 'cause I spit it over her hair & her face. She looks so funny then that I have to laugh
& more cereal sputters out.
I weigh 15 lbs. now and am getting two teeth. I'll be a great big boy when you come home
to see me.
I'm even learning how to dance--Auntie did a few steps
while holding me close to her shoulder. Aren't you jealous?
They're busy downstairs--talking--talking--Just like all
women--they think I'm fast asleep. When
they come upstairs to give me the 10 o'clock bottle I'll pretend I was
sleeping. I'll yawn & yawn &
pretend I'm not even interested in the milk, just sleepy. But I'll drink my milk anyway. It's a long time till breakfast.
Oops--here they come--I have to make believe I've been
sleeping right along instead of writing to you. Auntie says you're the nicest soldier in the world, Uncle Wes, so
please come home just as soon as you can--you'll be able to pick me up, even if
I gain 5 more lbs. between now & June.
Your loving nephew,
John Leslie
Camp Wheeler, Georgia
Saturday the 29th [of April 1944]
Dear John Leslie,
For a little fellow, you certainly do write very well, and
I can see you're learning things fast. Confidentially, though, it's easy to fool the women, at least that is
what we men say, but sometimes I wonder! They seem to catch on to male tricks, and yet they don't show any
outward signs of that knowledge. You
had better be a bit conservative, and not overplay your hand.
So you're quite a dancer too! Am I jealous? You should
see my green eyes! But as long as
Auntie Mitzie dances with you why that will be all right.
I think your Uncle Wes is a very lucky fellow to have a
girl like Auntie Mitzie waiting for me. Sometimes we men have to go away to do a job we don't like, so everyone
can live a happy, peaceful life later on. Those who can't leave do other work home, so we can carry on here. Someday you'll understand all this, and
realize that the freedom we enjoy in our way of life is worth fighting for, and
even dying for, if the ones we love will be assured of the life they want.
Your Dad and Mommy are fine people John Leslie, and they
are so happy that you have come into their home.
One of these days we'll all be together again, and until
then--
Your uncle
Wes.
Camp Wheeler, Georgia
Saturday, May 20th [1944]
[The letter written a week ahead of the event described, so as to
reach Marie on time]
My Darling,
Word reached me via the Fair Lawn grapevine that you were
having a surprise shower tonight (Friday, May 26th), and so just a
few lines from a Yankee in Georgia greet you.
Writing this letter in the barracks is a far cry from [t]he
shower you are enjoying. The men are
preparing for the march to the bivouac tomorrow and are tolling field packs,
getting supplies ie cigarettes, razor blades, soap, etc. All in all a cyclone hit the place. Lockers are all messed up, barracks bags on
the floor with blankets, clothes and men's shoes bulging the sides ready to
[be] carried by truck to the bivouac area.
Darling, tonight is a night you will long remember. Not only because this is your shower and
your friends are with you, but it is another step toward the happiest day of
our lives. I wish I could be with you
to watch your face as you open each present with eagerness and anticipation you
cannot hide. I wish I could be with you
because I love you, and want to be near you always.
In a way I am with you, because when you are happy, I am
happy too. Nature has a way of bridging
distance, by her stars, the moon, and the earth itself.
Goodnight dear, and peaceful dreams, though I'm far away, I
am with you.
All my love,
Your Wes.
Camp Wheeler, Georgia
Tuesday, June 6th [1944, D-Day]
Darling,
Everyone, every where is talking about it. All seem to have high spirits, and
anticipation of success "goes without saying." Radios have been giving news flashes all
morning. There just hasn't been any
other programs at all. Commentators
give eyewitness accounts of the first troops hitting the beaches. Officers and enlisted men alike crowd around
loudspeakers, trying to form a mental picture of the invasion. We all wonder if it will have any effect on
us, and cause a change of plans. So far
no word of any kind has been given out. Much will hinge on the opposition or lack of opposition the troops may
encounter. Everyone places great faith
in the command, responsible for the invasion. We must, and will win!
Just one year ago tonight, I walked into Aunt Mabel's house
and met you! Since then my life has
changed. I met a girl who was to steal
my heart, and make me a prouder boy than I have ever been before. Because that love has become my most
precious possession on earth.
Now only a few days remain until I am on my way home to
you. They can't pass fast enough! There is so much about you I love. The way you smile and your eyes betray your
inner feelings--youth and vitality--the songs we sang, the things we did. The days that seemed so long and the nights
so short.
I have the platoon picture, but as yet I haven't had time
to look at it. The company picture
turned out very good, but I don't get that until next week. I just saw a sample print.
Ted wrote me a very long letter this week, or maybe I told
you already. If you [yes?] this is
repetition. He has put the car back in
commission, and said I can use it when I am home if I want to. It doesn't matter, I know mother will let me
use the Chrysler if I want it. Nothing
like having two cars at one's disposal.
Today is still, clear, and hot. The sun looked like a huge tomato as it popped over the horizon
this morning.
Have to go to lunch.
All my love
Wes.
Camp Wheeler, Georgia
Sunday, June 11th [1944]
My Darling,
This is the last letter from Camp Wheeler, and when you
read this I should be almost home. Now
that basic is over, it seems like a short time, but actually it is over four
months since that day in January when the bus left Bergenfield and took me to
Camp Dix [actually Fort Dix, New Jersey]. Many things have happened since then. I've become a soldier in the finest army in the world, fighting for the
fundamentals of human freedom, without which no peoples can hope to live a
happy and secure life.
God and my country have been good to me. Under my church and the stars and stripes I
have been able to choose my own profession, work for an education, and love the
girl of my choice. In none of the axis
nations is this possible. I need not
fear a knock on the door, what I may say in public, or what I may do
consciously or unconsciously. In this
country my home is my castle, my God my fortress. Everything a free people believe in, live for, and desire is at
stake. That people have called upon ten
million young men and women to lay aside their normal civilian lives, and take
up arms to defend and assure that way of life for the present and future
generations. All are working or
fighting for the day when the conflict ends and the flower of manhood and
womanhood return home to their wives, husbands and loved ones.
But the job does not end there. A way of life must be originated which will help all people to
live peaceful lives. The world has
withstood two major wars but it may not withstand a third.
[end of fragment]
Camp Wheeler, Georgia
[undated letter, sometime between June 11 and 16, 1944]
My Darling, only two and one half decades a go, another line of
American doughboys began a march across the Continent of Europe in order to
preserve the principles of freedom that we are fighting for today. They did their part, but we did not do
ours. We failed them, even though they
did not fail us. It must not
re-occur. Human lives cannot be
replaced. Nor will re-imbursement
alieve [relieve?] heart ache and memories. Only time can heal them, and sometimes even this cannot.
This is not just a war of armies, but rather a war of
people and their beliefs. One of
regimentation [sic] and subjection of one race to the will of another. The other a belief in freedom, and equality,
so precious, that some are willing to die so others may have them.
But I didn't mean to be so serious! It will be good to see Red, you, "our
folks," and some of the familiar things I knew years back. To feel the warm sun in the garden, and meet
friends.
Now that only a few hours remain until I'm on my way home,
I begin to feel like a caged lion, awaiting freedom; freedom and you.
Darling, I love you very very much!
All my love
Wes.
P.S. I'll have a barrack
bag full of clothes etc. with me and want to see about my Wasserman [?].
Camp Wheeler, Georgia
[June 16, 1944]
My Darling,
Do you remember a night in June, Sunday, to be exact, the 6th,
when Bud Westervelt came home from Fort Jackson for a short furlough? You were visiting Grace that weekend, and
spent the night at her apartment.
Sunday morning Bud arrived and you thought you should go
home to Hillsdale, however, you didn't and spent the afternoon playing ping
pong and badminton. You had supper at
Bud's house, and stayed overnight. While Bud and his family were eating, some relatives down the street
came in to say hello and spend the evening.
Bud's cousin, Wes, I think was his name, sat across the
room from you and a few times offered you cigarettes and chatted with you in an
off hand way to help make you feel at home. You were wearing a yellow dress that night, and after his family went
home Wes walked to Grace's apartment with you to carry your bag back, since you
were staying at Bud's house, and would go to work from there in the morning.
It was raining when dawn broke, and Wes stopped at the
station to say hello on the way to work at his office in Paterson. You were dressed in yellow and wore a white
hat, with all the freshness and fragrance of spring.
You made a lasting impression on him for he called during
the week to say hello. The hand holding
the telephone trembled, and he was skeptical of the reception his voice would
receive. You were glad to hear his
voice, at least your voice sounded so, and later when you agree to answer his
letter when he wrote, he was sure. He
made a visit to Hillsdale the following Sunday to meet your family. The evening was spent at home, and it really
was a pleasant evening. You played the
piano, one of the songs was "You are always in my heart." You never guessed that later he would
be! He hoped you didn't mind staying at
home instead of going out. All seemed
well, because you asked him to come again, and really meant it! He agreed to.
The summertime came and with it many hours of work in his
family garden. He like to work the
soil, and see things grow. He was an
agriculturist at heart, and the soil was mother earth to him. His family always had a large family garden,
fronting along Hillsdale Avenue, and He [sic] prided in the fact that it looked
beautiful from the road. Straight rows,
devoid of weeds, and a dust mulch on top to retain the soil moisture.
You did not see very much of him, since he boarded away
from home, and came to Cresskill only on weekends. Sunday night he would stop at Hillsdale to see you, or take you
out on his way back to Paterson. You
seemed to enjoy a mutual attraction for each other, but only in a friendly sort
of way. You cared for him, but did your
best to hide it.
Some nights you went to the movies, other times you stayed
at home, playing cards, reading or winding balls of yarn for your
bedspread. All the while both of you
were kidding each other, knowing you were falling in love, but not quite sure
enough to admit it. You knew you loved
him, and your eyes showed it, but he had to be positive of his love for you.
His work was in the Extension Service, helping farmers
solve food problems, and general adult educational work. The farmers had an annual outing each year
in the fall during October. He asked
you to go. I'll never forget the night
he spoke to you about it. You never had
given him any inkling as to your idea of outings, although you had been to his
house on Sunday a few times for barbecue [sic] chicken, and seemed to enjoy
it. He was hoping against hope you
would say yes, and was a bit timid when he asked you. You said yes, and so that weekend you found yourself Passaic
County bound.
The afternoon was warm and sunny and you danced the evening
away. The night was clear and the moon
and stars very bright. You walked with
him hand in hand, and sat on the rail fence beside the road. He wanted to kiss you but was not sure of
your reaction, and I don't remember whether he did or not, but that really
doesn't matter.
The Christmas season came, and with it the usual gaiety,
color and presents of the holiday. Your
family went to church on Christmas Eve, and opened their presents upon
returning home, until the early hours of the morning. Those days that followed were filled with much happiness for both
you and Wes. Going places together,
doing things together, and having a wonderful time.
In January Wes left for the Army, and your heart went with
him. You loved him very much, and now
your life seemed empty. Your nurses aid
work became even more important than ever to you, so much so that you overdid
it, and almost had a nervous breakdown as the result.
You were very proud to wear the service pin Wes gave you,
and your love for him shined in your eyes for everyone to see. And though your heart was breaking the day
you saw him off, you managed to smile and hide the tears, that you felt must
come. You wrote to him every day, and
he replied, both of you declaring your love for each other, and praying for the
day when peace would come and you would be together again.
Wes tried hard to be a good soldier, learning his lesson
well, and fitting himself to the mode of military life, so you would be proud
of him, and help to speed the day when millions of young men could return to
civilian life, and live as they had before the war.
My Darling, I've loved you dearly, more than anything on
earth, so much that nothing is worth doing, unless I do it well, and we both
share in the satisfaction of a job well done.
Tomorrow is your wedding day, and I must say goodbye to the
girl I took to movies, and picnics; Goodbye to the girl I love. For tomorrow when you are married you will
be my wife. I love you and always will.
All my love,
Wes.
Marie E. Picker and
Westervelt Griffin were married the next day, June 17, 1944.
Camp Wheeler, Georgia
[The stationery is Camp Wheeler, but the letter was apparently
written from Fort Meade, Maryland]
25 June 44
My Darling Wife,
This morning when I wrote the new address book material, I
saw the one you had written. Just that
little bit of handwriting brought a lot of emotion, almost as though you were
here along side of me praying for my safe return. I just had to sit down and write a note to you.
I can't put into words the feelings I had when the Chrysler
left Tenafly taking you back home and I went on to New York. I almost wanted to cry out to you and bring
you back, but you were out of hearing. I watched the car as it moved out of sight behind the buildings and the
flashed by the traffic light on County Road heading for Cresskill.
Everybody in the barracks [is busy--unreadable because the
binding obscures the line]: some writing letters, some reading, some singing,
and others just talking.
While in Washington yesterday, (we came into Washington
instead of killing time in Baltimore) we went out by the Washington Monument to
see the War Bond rally display of captured axis [sic] air corp equipment
[sic]. ME 109's ME 110's, barrage balloons, engines, etc. By the way I'm buying a $10 bond each month
out of my pay. It will be mailed to you
at 17 Cedar St. You can put it with the
rest. I'd suggest you put them
altogether [sic] and use your own discression [sic] as to where you keep them. I married a girl with good common sense, so
I'll leave it up to you, darling. I
have to get a G.I. haircut this afternoon if I can get a seat at the barber
shop. You know, one of those close
babies, that you don't like!
No more of the Wheeler gang have arrived as yet. I guess it is too early. Most likely later on this afternoon they'll
start to roll in.
Under separate cover I'm sending you a paper with
information you may want to know, and don't know where to go for the
answers. You'll find them in the
booklet. I hope it will ship free.
This is my complete address.
Pvt. Westervelt Griffin 42103421
1st Replacement Regiment
(Infantry)
Army Ground Forces Replacement
Dept #1
Co A, 2nd Bn. 1st
Regiment
Fort George G. Meade,
Maryland
Use the address on the envelope rather than the above; It
is much shorter.
It was rather comical yesterday--after getting to camp we
had breakfast at 9:30 and went back to our area for orientation. At 11:15 chow call sounded again. We told the Sgt. we had eaten only an
hour-and-a-half before, and he said, "Well go eat again. It won't hurt you." I couldn't eat a darn thing, but did manage
to down a cup of coffee and a piece of pie.
You had better not send any food down, since we won't be
able to take any with us, and I wouldn't want to leave any behind. It would be a job to keep it here since we
do not have foot lockers to go around and have to share them, three men to one
locker.
I love you darling, oh so very very much! I miss you in the evening, and most of all
at night. The bed seems so empty
without you, and your head on my shoulder.
I love you, dear,
All my love
Your husband Wes
Camp Wheeler, Georgia
[Again, the stationery is from Camp Wheeler, but the letter was
written from Fort Meade]
25 June '44
My Dear Wife,
I just had to tell you I love you before turning in. The hands of the watch are creeping toward
nine o'clock, and before long my first Sunday away from my wife will be a day
of the past.
This letter will not be mailed until tomorrow morning, but
you should have Tuesday or Wednesday. By the way if I write you at the office should I use the married or
maiden name? I would rather use the
married (Mrs. Westervelt Griffin) one. Can you blame me?
The twilight is very quiet and restful. The time of day I like to be with you most
of all. The ride in the hansom through
the park, a kiss or two in the dark seclusion of its interior, the touch of
your hand on mine, your cheek against mine, your head on my shoulder, have all
become a part of my life, just a tree needs its leaves.
I love you with a love so strong, it cannot be denied, nor
can time or space decrease it, rather it strengthens with each new experience.
I miss your goodnight kiss. The warmth of your body pressed against mine. The chills that run along my spine when you
take me skyward. Your hand in my hand,
and your fingers in my hair. Your bosom
so silken and soft, that brings such peace of mind after emotion.
I love you so deeply and dearly that words cannot wholly
express it. "My wife"-- the
words are music, the relationship a reality. Goodnight my dear. Peaceful
dreams--bright with the hopes and prayers of a new day. I miss you terribly.
All my love
Your husband
Postcard, Fort Meade, postmark June 30, 1944
Darling,
One card deserves another. Thanks for the thought. A letter
is on the way to keep you company, until I can write again tomorrow.
Lots of love
Your Wes.
Postcard, Fort Meade, postmark June 30, 1944
Darling,
Just another card to keep the postman busy!
Keep smiling, and get ready to make more fudge. You know an army travels on its stomach, and
what could be better on the inside.
Love
Wes
[No return address, but written from Fort Meade or Camp Kilmer]
11 July 1944
Dearest and Darling Wife,
I felt like chatting with you again tonight so here comes
another letter. I was thinking over
some of the things that happened before I came into the army, that in a way
were amusing, when I look at them now.
Do you remember my telling you about the time I was to
visit Joan and Karl for the evening, and then had to go back to the room in
Clifton, or was it home, because Karl's father was taken sick. Poor Joan was so afraid I wouldn't come back
and might be insulted because of the circumstances and the drive. And then the time I went to the Breeding
farm in Karl and Joan's car and had the flat with no spare. The gang really had some experience that
time!
I've often wondered what Arthur Butt would say now, after
what I told him at the farmers outing last fall, now that we are married. "No not yet'' has become an opportune
phrase at that. We did have so much fun
that Saturday!
I hope you don't mind my slipping back into the past every
once in awhile, but it is fun to talk with you about things we did together, or
things I did along business lines. I do
like to think and plan for the future too, so don't think I'm looking back over
my shoulder; I still have my eyes ahead.
How is the garden doing? Are those thirteen tomato plants I
put in still alive? Keep them watered and you'll be having tomatoes a plenty
[sic], especially the beef stake [sic] babies, even though your garden is
small.
I love you very much.
All my love
Your Wes.
Co F 4th Pl. APO 15374
c/o PM New York, NY
[no date; probably mid-July 1944]
My Darling Wife,
This is your first "V" mail letter from your
husband, and quite a novelty to write one. I still like the long type of letter better, but a few of these once in
awhile will make the letters a little different.
I read the Bishops Jaegers (?) this afternoon. For many a good laugh I highly recommend
it. Aunt Molly, I believe has a copy.
Keep your chin up darling, and say hello to everybody at
Hillsdale for me. I don't know what we
are heading into, but I'll be OK! Don't
try to do too much Nurse's Aide work, and get as much sunshine as you can. I love you very much.
All my love
Your Wes
On July 18, 1944, Wes was shipped to Europe. The night before he left, he began a letter
home, and continued it over several days.
Monday [July 17, 1944]
[location and possibly date torn out, probably by military censor,
the letter written at sea]
Darling Wife,
Just think one month ago was the big day! The time has slipped away so fast hasn't it
dear? No mail came this noon, and if
there is none tonight I will have had a mail-less day.
Tonight is lovely. A gentle breeze blows about the boat now and then, and thank goodness,
it is not as hot, and stuffy.
The sky is devoid of color. No moon, no stars, and no sun. It is just in-between the sunset and rise of the moon.
A fellow in back of me has just begun to play the mouth
organ, and the boys are collecting. They
always seem to be able to sing any time, any place. Most of the older songs like "My Gal Sal,'' "Daisy,''
etc. It is quite nice too. It has been a while since I sang to your
playing, but somehow I just didn't feel in the mood. I think you understand. My heart just wasn't in it.
The day light is fading rapidly now. Here and there a small purple cloud appears
in the eastern sky, with streaks of lighter purple for a background. I'm going to turn in. More tomorrow.--
Up and about at 6:15 am. Breakfast. Coffee, oatmeal,
bread and butter, and sausage. We had
cleared the harbor and were on the high seas before we were allowed on deck.
The sea is blue, really a dark blue, with white clouds in a
light blue sky. The sun is bright and
warm, and feels good since there is a breeze blowing. Everyone is on deck. Some
playing cards, some craps, some just standing at the rail, others sleeping, and
a few writing like me.
I went to the ship's canteen this morning. The soda was warm, candy soft, but
cigarettes were only 50 cents a carton. I didn't get any yet since my belt was full and I would have no place to
keep them. There is a slight roll and
pitch to the boat but not enough to cause any trouble. The water is calm. Wait until we hit the deep water. Then there will be men at the rail!
I watched the shoreline fade from sight as the sun broke
through the morning haze, and felt so far away from you. I miss you terribly, darling, and wish you
were right here with me. I love you
very much! I'm going to catch a few
winks of sleep. Be back later.
I woke up at noon and had lunch. The meals aren't too much to brag about, but they do satisfy the
appetite. That's about all.
I can't mail any letters until the boat docks but I will
write a few lines each day while on the water. I love you very much
All my love
Your husband.
Somewhere in England
Monday 31 July 1944
My Darling Wife,
You have no idea how good it feels to sleep on something
solid for a change and not in a hammock that swings and sways. It felt funny when we stepped off the boat
onto the dock. It felt as though the
dock was rocking. But now I have my
"land legs."
It was quite cool last night. So cool I slept in my fatigues with two blankets, and my overcoat
on top of them. It is a far cry from
the heat I left in 'Jersey.
It stays light a long time over here. Until ten or eleven p.m. making daylight for
seventeen hours.
I love you very much.
All my love
Your husband
Somewhere in England
Thursday 3 August 1944
Dearest Wife,
Today for the lack of a new letter I read one sent when I was
back in states. I opened it a[nd] there
you were, talking to me. A letter means
so much now, more than it ever did before.
Once in awhile we have access to a radio, and hear music
that plays on the heart strings, and cause that lump in the throat. They remind us of you folks and home.
The English people are friendly and we get along very well
with the Brittish (sic) Soldiers we have seen so far. The authorities back home and on the boat coming over cautioned
us about certain things that might be touchy spots, but from what I can see so
far, we have taken to them, and they to us in splendid shape. I think because the job we have in hand is
far bigger than either of us or our countries. Hitler and his stooges must be licked and the Tommy and the Yank are the
ones who can do it. But enough of
this! You'll be saying, why not
something about us! You're right
dear, but I just wanted to pass on these thoughts that come to me at a time
when they do become rather important to me.
Right now on the radio a short wave program from New York
is coming through. I guess they are
picked up and rebroadcast by B.B.C. Guess what the song is! "People
will say we're in love." Remember
one July 2nd when you played it and I sang it? Little did we know what lay in store for us
a year later. Another one, "Long
Ago and Far Away." Golly but they
make the place seem more like home! "Marie Eleana,'' and "Going my way." I remember sitting in the theater in New
York, (at your insistence) and seeing Bing Crosby, (for which I was glad
later), and holding your hand all the while. Your perfume floated upward and you were so close! Darling, I love you very very much. Gee I miss you so! I hope and pray you're all right, and long so to hold you close
in my arms.
I love you very much.
All my love
Your Wes.
Somewhere in France
Saturday August 1944 [the date is omitted; most likely August 12
or 19]
Dearest and Darling Wife,
This is some of the "V" mail paper I brought with
me from the states. The dampness make
the glued flaps stick together, and rather than throw them away, since all the
paper I can get is V mail stationery, I tore off the flaps and made it into ordinary
writing paper. As you can see it serves
the purpose.
Last night we went down to see the U.S.O. show. It was very good. A magician acted as M of C and in addition the program included,
a juggler, a dancer, a singer, and an accordion player. I liked the magician and the juggler the
best.
The former, took the dog tags from around the neck of two
soldiers during a trick and they never know it. Neither did the audience! The juggler had a metal vase that always seemed to have more water in
it. The boys really did enjoy it and we
take our hats off to the performers who go right into the battle zones to keep
up the morale of the men. They can't
put enough of the U.S.O. shows on the road for my part. We really look forward to each
performance. This is the first we have
seen here, and are already hoping for another very soon!
Suppose I tell you something about our home in France! It is a one room apartment, without bath or
running water. The room is very
spacious, measuring roughly eight feet long by six feet wide. The ceiling is a trifle low, about 3 feet,
tied to tree branches outside to do away with center posts. We are dug in the ground about two feet,
giving us a rifle rack for three rifles, a bar for gas masks and rifle belts on
the right wall, and a s[h]elf dug into the ground on the left to hold our extra
clothes, haversacks, toilet articles etc. Oh yes, on the right wall bar we also have hooks to hang the mess kits
so they can dry on the inside and not give any overhead reflection. The dirt walls are covered with cardboard to
keep the dirt from crumbling and going all over our bed. The bed has a straw
"mattress". This is about two
inches of hay spread over the ground to make the bed softer. Over this we spread raincoats to keep the
ground dampness from coming through underneath. Over these we spread the blankets, using a field jacket for a
pillow, and a GI towel for a pillow case. So can see under the circumstances we really are quite comfortable. In a way it is almost like the days we spent
camping on the Palisades in Jersey. We
certainly do get plenty of fresh air and exercise.
I love you very much. Remember me to the folks in Yonkers, and give my love to the family.
All my love
Your Wes.
Somewhere in France
Monday 28 Aug. 1944
My Darling Wife,
I ran out of writing pager so I'm using the inside wrapper
from a pack of cigarettes. I'm in good
health, sleep fairly well, and think of you all the time.
We move around quite a bit, and eat mostly K rations with a
hot breakfast. So many of the boys
seems to have post war plans like ours. I love you very much.
All my love
Your husband.
Somewhere in France
Sat. Oct. 7, 1944
Hello Darling,
I'm sending the one strap of my watch. Will you send me another one. This one is worn out. Today has been warm and sunny, more like a June
than an October day. The nights are
very cool and damp.
I love you very much dear, and think of you all the
time. The things we want to do later
when I can get home. I've pictured us
using our silver, crystal, linen, and candles. It will be fun, won't it? All in
good time I suppose. I hope you are
feeling OK, and the hospital work agrees with you. I am fine, and in good spirits.
Give my love to all, and say hello to Jack, Norine, Baby
Leslie, Mr. and Mrs. Aselford and the newlyweds.
Give my love to my family for me. I'll try to write them soon.
I love you very much.
All my love
Your husband Wes.
Wes was captured by the Germans two days later, on October 9,
1944.
[German postcard, written in pencil]
Kriegsgefangenenlager [Prisoner-of-War Camp]
Datum: Nov. 26, 1944
Hello Darling, I love you very much! Tell Ted to get Revelation long cut with plenty of papers. I have a swell lot of plans for us if they
meet with your approval for us when I get home. A happy Holiday season to you dear, and send my greetings to our
families and friends. Watch the stars,
dear, I am. I love you very much, all
my love
Wes
Kriegsgefangenenlager
Datum: Dec. 25, 1944
Hello Darling, Christmas Day! We have just finished supper, and are sitting about relaxing with full
stomachs. For dinner we had rabbit,
dressing, turnips, potatoes & coffee. For supper, brown gravy on bread and cake baked by the Frau at the big
house. A very enjoyable day. But I missed you. I love you,
All my love
Wes.
Wes was liberated by the 82nd Airborne Division at Wittenberg,
Germany, on May 3, 1945.
May 6, 1945
Somewhere in France
Hello Darling,
I have been recovered by the Yanks, and in a reception area
on my way home. These stamps are two
that I have kept ever since I was captured.
I'm in good health, and feel fine. I love you very much. Tell everybody I'll see them soon. In about four weeks, I think.
All my love
Wes.
Western Union telegram, 5-26-45
THE SECRETARY OF WAR DESIRES ME TO EXPRESS HIS PLEASURE
THAT YOUR HUSBAND PRIVATE GRIFFIN WESTERFELT RETURNED TO MILITARY PATROL 08 MAY
45
J. A. ULIO
ADJUTANT GENERAL OF THE ARMY
Wes returned to the United States on June 12, 1945.
Western Union telegram, 1945 Jun 12
GOOD NEWS YOUR HUSBAND IS HOME HEAR HIM ON WPAT 93 ON YOUR DIAL WEDNESDAY 1205 N0ON
DAVE GOLDEN
PUB RELATIONS WPAT PATERSON NJ.
Wes then went to Camp Joseph T. Robinson, Arkansas, for what passed
as debriefing for former prisoners of war in those days. He received his Honorable Discharge from
Camp Robinson on December 4, 1945.