Tag Archives: Care

WWII – Packages from Home


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These Marines were fortunate to have mail call out in the Pacific during WWII. A package from home – with new socks perhaps being the ultimate gift – provided huge emotional uplifts.

During WWII, receiving a package from home was the ultimate morale booster for our boys in uniform.  These packages brought tremendous joy to the men, especially when they were near or at the front, subjected to the brutality and extremes of environments.

Upon experiencing the joy of receiving a parcel, very little could surpass finding the lingering scent of their girl’s perfume on a knitted muffler; candy and gum ranked up there, too.   Socks were also in high demand as socks wore out much more quickly than sweaters or mufflers and dry socks were essential necessities to ward off trench foot.  Indeed, trench foot¹ and frostbite took their toll on our boys in battle more than being wounded by bullets or shrapnel.

While machines produced millions, there were even “knitting parties” where women knitted socks, scarves, vests and “fingerless” mittens.  In fact, Eleanor Roosevelt just months before Pearl Harbor founded a “Knit for Defense” effort in the US.

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But within today’s capsule of electronic bliss, many of us civilians in all walks of life see no difficulty with a family trying to communicate with their loved one who is not at home because he/she is in uniform.

Cell phones.  GPS.  Email.  “Facetime”.  Skype.

Even packages from home are viewed as no big thing anymore by the general public.  They are taken for granted by many civilians because the packages leaving the front porch seem to be riding on a beacon radiating from a soldier’s open palms now – think FedEx.  Perhaps this could be one possible reason why so many Americans seem to feel gifts from home are “no big deal”.  They see our men in uniform as being as close as a laptop.  That is far from reality as are many TV shows.  They still long for home.

One thing hasn’t changed from World War II: the morale-boosting smile that erupted on a soldier’s face when he received a package from home.

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Operation Gratitude

So what got me thinking about these now long-forgotten packages from home that brought so many smiles to GI Joes on a WWII battlefield?

My oldest daughter Robyn spearheaded an effort with family and friends to bring together hundreds of donations to be sent anonymously to our military through the efforts of a non-profit organization called “Operation Gratitude“.  Among many other essentials, there were razors, hand wipes, sunscreen, foot powder, Chapstick and most importantly, letters from students thanking the unknown recipient for their service to our country.  In addition, Robyn purchased thousands of yards of “paracord“.  It had to first be cut in 7.5 foot lengths; then, the open ends have to be sealed with a small flame.  These were then hand braided into survival bracelets – 300 of them.

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My oldest daughter applauding her three siblings on their effort to braid survival bracelets after Thanksgiving Dinner. A total of 300 were eventually made.  Survival bracelets can be quickly unraveled then used for many situations while deployed: bundling, strapping down equipment, securing netting… and in the worst scenario as a tourniquet.

 

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My youngest son Jack the morning before heading off to volunteer for the day at Operation Gratitude. The items were donated by my oldest daughter, family and friends.

 

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Jack and Brooke taping together boxes at Operation Gratitude. Jack kept count of the number of rolls of tape he used. With four rolls used, he taped together about 280 boxes. Photo from http://www.operationgratitude.com.

 

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A volunteer is transferring bags of personal items donated by donors. These were then taken to the “assembly” line where volunteers stuffed Priority Mail boxes with them and other items. Photo from http://www.opeationgratitude.com.

 

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There were HUNDREDS of volunteers this day. It was Operation Gratitude’s first assembly day at their new location in Chatsworth, CA. Photo from http://www.opeationgratitude.com.

Through their volunteers and generous donations from the public, Operation Gratitude has delivered over 1.4 million parcels so far!

These smiles make it all worth it, yes?

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The Journey of a WWII Package

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During WWII, a package sent from home took weeks if not months for a soldier to get it…  Or in the worse possible scenario, the young man would never receive their package from home because they were either killed or missing as this photo below graphically shows.  It would exponentially worsen for the family as they would have likely received the infamous telegrams only to have the battered package marked “DECEASED” left at their doorstep many weeks later:

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All of these packages – many for Christmas of 1944 – were returned as they were undeliverable. All are marked “Deceased” or “Missing”, visible if you enlarge the picture. I cannot imagine how the sender felt having the package being returned. National Archives.

The packages from home would make their way via ship.  For the European Theater of War and before D-Day, a number of supply ships were likely attacked or sunk by U-Boats.  After surviving the voyage and unloading at a European port (permanent or man-made like at Normandy), the packages, along with sacks of mail, would be transferred to trucks.

Europe did have mapped roads making delivery somewhat more certain but the trucks were subject to destruction via enemy air attacks, shelling or road mines.  I understand mail pieces were primarily sorted at battalion headquarters then filtered down to a company or OP level which could be moving in the course of battle.

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These soldiers were lucky to be able to use a jeep to reel off phone line. My thought would be the area was pretty secure. Otherwise, foot soldiers would have to work through the combat zone and quietly lay down then cover up the phone lines. Signal Corps photo.

Making it to the individual soldier was not a sure thing.  The package would have to make its way to the platoon then to the individual soldier’s last known position.  Perhaps there was a makeshift “post office” but if the front was fluid, their location would be a question mark.  Communication with a unit on the move was by field radio with an average range of five miles or so until actual phone lines could be reeled off (above).

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Wire reel can be seen next to field radio. Signal Corps photo.
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A corporal receives firing orders via a field phone for a mortar crew. National Archives.
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When close to or in a combat zone, walkie-talkies with a maximum range of about a mile (under ideal conditions) were used to communicate with units. Signal Corps photo.

It was MUCH less certain for Marines serving on those islands scattered about in the Pacific.  For example, the package may never get there as a ship would be sunk or damaged, would rot in humid cargo holds exceeding 130F, or the Marine just couldn’t be located because they kept moving, especially if in combat.  Communication was a wild card and without it, finding the Marine’s location was difficult.

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Marines ford a river, laying down phone wire on Guadalcanal, 1943. Imagine the luxury of cell phones in combat today. USMC photo.

On these sweltering Pacific islands and unlike Europe, few or no roads were the norm until the engineers came ashore to build them.  Mud greeted the Marines.  Any dirt road became mud rivers and muddy hills made it worse.  When mail did reach their island, the mail drops on many an occasion were truly drops – they were pushed out of cargo planes with parachutes at low altitude:

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In some Pacific battles, mail would be delayed as there were no “front lines” on these islands for some time.  Iwo Jima was a typical one as the enemy for the most part were hidden underground and would pop up out of holes and caves to kill.

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A Marine tries to communicate with HQ using a field phone while hunkering down for dear life in a foxhole. Communication woes made for difficulty in mail delivery.  USMC photo.

 

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A long awaited mail call for Marines on Tinian, 1944. USMC photo.

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“CARE” Packages

Today, we frequently call packages sent either from home or from efforts like Operation Gratitude “CARE packages”.

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A sample WWII Red Cross package, sent to POW’s in German POW camps. Source unknown.

During WWII, the American Red Cross spearheaded monumental efforts (below) to produce Prisoner of War packages.  They were not called “CARE” packages as of yet.

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National Archives

More than 27 million parcels were prepared by over 13,000 volunteers and shipped by the American Red Cross to the International Red Cross Committee in Geneva, Switzerland, for distribution in the POW camps.

These packages may have included:

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The sample contents of a Red Cross Prisoner of War Package No. 10. Source unknown.

Prisoners held by the Germans did better than those in the Pacific.  While many packages were intercepted by Nazis and used for their own use, the Japanese provided almost no cooperation to the International Red Cross efforts.  In some cases, the prisoners in German POW camps would keep only the cigarettes and chocolate then “volunteer” the rest of the food articles to the Nazi camp cooks.

However, the actual term of “CARE Package” did not pertain to these life-saving parcels.  Instead, “an organization called CARE was founded in 1945, when 22 American organizations came together to rush lifesaving CARE Packages to survivors of World War II. Thousands of Americans, including President Harry S. Truman, contributed to the effort. On May 11, 1946, the first 20,000 packages reached the battered port of Le Havre, France.”²

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All in all, Operation Gratitude fulfills both roles: the precious package from home combined with the CARE package concept.  With the economy the way it is and coupled with the unacceptably low budget for our military, I feel these packages do bring smiles to our men and women in uniform.  It tells them that in spite of how the media chooses to report on mostly negative incidents involving them, it shows millions of us support them 100%.

A crisp salute to Operation Gratitude, my daughter Robyn and of course, our men and women wearing our country’s uniforms so proudly and valiantly.

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The GI in the driver’s seat shares his cherished Christmas package from home. National Archives.

 

NOTES:

  1. During WWII, there were about 60,000 trench foot casualties requiring removal from the battlefield.  85% of these casualties were from rifle companies.  Only about 15% made it back to the field.
  2. Source: CARE

Jack, I Miss You


One year ago tomorrow.

December 23, 2011.

Old man Jack left us.

To be with his beloved wife Carol…and his comrades who were left behind “on those stinkin’ islands”.

Came by to say hi...and Merry Christmas, Jack
Came with two of my kids to say hi…and Merry Christmas, Jack

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Life is so fleeting.  Some people go through a whole lot.  Some of us don’t.

Old man Jack was one of the former.  I need to find the time to write more of what he experienced as a young man.

So that at least those that read this blog will know…and appreciate.

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Old man Jack had his health problems in his last years.

But when he was a young sailor, he had malaria, dysentery…leeches between his toes, all from fighting on those damn islands in the Southwest Pacific during WWII.

And in 2009, he nearly died from a horrid intestinal infection.  His abdomen had swollen.  Fat Albert would have been jealous.

He was in ICU for a couple of weeks.  After they transferred him to an extended care facility, I made it a point to see him every day…even if it was for brief time.

He looked forward to it as did I.

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But soon after being transferred, he went into a depression.  He wouldn’t eat – especially what he called the “Army slop” they had at his hospice.

Man, he complained about the chow – but his eyes lit up when I (secretly) took him a Mickey D’s burger and fries once in awhile.  He’d smack his lips.  But I’d make him eat the chow when I didn’t bring him his hamburger and as usual, he’d get pissed.  But not really.

One evening, he was really weak.  He wouldn’t raise his head off his pillow.

I told him, “Jack…  What’s the matter?  Haven’t you been eating?”

He never answered the question but he was off in a different world.  While he realized I was there, he said to me softly, “Carol came down to see me last night.  She sat right here,” gently patting the mattress on his gurney.  “She said, ‘Honey, its about time now.  I’m waiting for you.'”

Carol was his wife.  He loved her greatly.  She had passed away eight years before.  I think he wanted to be with her.

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Well, I pushed him to get better.  And he did.

He finally consented to get into a wheel chair a couple of weeks or so later.  I can’t exactly remember but it was June of 2009.

Perhaps you can get a flavor of Old Man Jack’s true character although my Blackberry did a lousy job of recording:

Soon after that, in spite of his pissing and moaning (which I loved as it meant he was getting better), I forced him to use his walker:

It was his way of saying, “Get lost,” by the way…but didn’t mean it as usual.  He loved the attention.

Hilarious.

Old Man Jack was on the road to recovery.

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Well, the recovery was short-lived.

He is now with his beloved Carol and eating her wonderful cooking.  She cooked things exactly as he wanted.

Hamburger patties burned to a crisp.  Scrambled eggs WELL done.

He never complained – as he knew he wouldn’t eat if he did.

Deep down, he knew who was the boss.

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I miss you and your hollerin’ and moanin’, Jack.

And I knew you never meant it.

And as sad as I am, I also know you are now free of those horrible nightmares from combat that you endured for 70 years…and that you and Carol are on your second honeymoon.

You deserve no less.

You were a helluva representative of the Greatest Generation.

Merry Christmas, Jack.

Love,

Koji, Little Jack and Brooke