Keeping up Morale
There was probably no factor more vital to the fighting man’s morale than frequent letters from home. For many of the soldiers, this would be their first time away from home. Nothing perked up a day more than having your name called out during mail call, which meant a letter or a package from home had arrived.
To help keep up morale, articles were written on V-Mail etiquette for person’s writing overseas. “A soldier’s morale can be ruined by the wrong kind of letter. Spare him home front worries and the really small hardships of civilian life.” Writers were asked the question, “Is your letter fit to be read in a foxhole?”
Charlie Crooks, of Dayton, took the idea of writing to the men overseas quite seriously. As a teacher and basketball coach of Wilbur Wright, Lincoln and Belmont schools for twenty years, he had made a number of friends. And Crooks did not forget his friends. Beginning in 1942, Charlie spent two evenings a week writing letters to his friends, students and “anyone who might be lonesome” in the Army and Navy. Crooks wrote to nearly three dozen Dayton servicemen.
“It’s nothing,” he said in an interview in 1944. “I only write a page. I just give the boys some of the sports news, because I remember how much that old mail bag meant in France the last time.”
His correspondence began during a Wednesday night prayer meeting at the South Park Methodist church. Names of boys in the congregation who had gone into the army were put into a wicker basket. Crooks drew the name of Sgt. Richard Thomas, one of his Sunday school pupils. With Sgt. Thomas as the nucleus, Crooks gathered correspondents. His group ranged from air force pilots to naval officers. Ages ran from 18 to 54.
Taking care of such a large group meant devoting two weeks each night to letter writing. The letters that went overseas could take up to two months to reach their destination.
Asked if he ever got tired of writing to the few men who didn’t respond to his letters he said, “Now, my wife argues a lot about that. She says I ought not to write if they don’t send me a postcard or anything. But I figure that maybe they are out of paper somewhere in one of those foxholes. It doesn’t matter to me. I don’t write to get answers anyway.”
Most of the men, however, did answer Crooks. And when they arrived home on furlough “they always pile in to see me and we have big long talks about everything.”
A note sent by Major Roy Arn summed up what Crooks’ pen pals thought of his “letter service”.
“No one seems to give us the real dope, Charlie.” Arn wrote. “We’re depending on you to tell us the results of the Ohio State - Illinois game.”
Throughout the war, Charlie never let down the men who were depending on him.
Charlie wasn’t the only one writing letters. A survey in November 1942 showed that mail shipments to soldiers overseas took up more than eight times as much room as it did in November 1918 during the First World War.
The Army welcomed overseas letters, but steps were taken to eliminate some of the bulk involved in shipping the letters. The V-Mail system was devised for the purpose of conserving cargo space and represented a saving of 98% in space over ordinary mail. Letters to soldiers were photographed and microfilmed. The microfilmed letter was then shipped by airplane, where it was reprinted and sent on its way. The original letter was never destroyed until the plane carrying the microfilm reached its destination. The equivalent of 25 sacks of airmail letters could be carried in one small V-Mail sack, recorded on 16mm film. V-Mail always went by air, which made it quicker than letters on ships going overseas. Although the text allowed on a V-Mail letter was shorter, since it only allowed writing on one side of one page, the government was quick to point out that servicemen preferred frequent letters from home, no matter how short, than receiving longer, more infrequent letters.
In July 1943 the postmaster general gave permission for individuals to transmit photographs on V-mail stationary to men in service overseas. Commercial photographers were allowed to print the photographs of infants born after their fathers went overseas, or of children less than one year old, on one-third of a special V-mail stationary that could be sent overseas.
Sometimes news about soldiers overseas wasn’t received by mail. E. E. Alderman, of Dayton, probably brought more happiness to more Americans during the war than any other individual.
Before Pearl Harbor Alderman had been interested in short-wave reception and listened regularly to programs from around the world. When the United States entered the war he continued to listen to Axis broadcasts, and in the spring of 1943 he began hearing messages concerning American war prisoners, sandwiched between propaganda programs.
Alderman wondered if relatives of the men knew that they were prisoners. He decided to forward on a few of the messages. The response was immediate and so touching he felt obligated to relay all subsequent communications as soon as he received them.
Alderman began spending an average of eleven hours a day without pay in order not to miss any news from overseas. His day started at 1 a.m., tuning into an eight-minute broadcast from Tokyo. Back to bed, then up again at 5 a.m. for a five-minute broadcast. During the day he would send out reports of the men to the next of kin mentioned in the broadcasts. About 5:45 p.m. he donned his earphones and settled in to await the first evening broadcast, a French report from Berlin. At 6:15 p.m. Radio Tokyo came on the air with news and records of prisoners of war. At 7 p.m. Radio Berlin took over with news and prisoner of war reports. These reports also included messages from prisoners of war, most written down and read on the air in English by the enemy.
Eventually, his files were filled with several thousand letters from grateful family members who had learned the fate of their loved one overseas through his service. Sometimes, though, the messages Alderman received contained bad news, in which case he would contact someone in the community to act as an intermediary who could convey the information in the most tactful way.
Toward the end of the war he was receiving twenty to forty letters a day from grateful families, as well as appeals from those who had men missing overseas. By 1945 it was thought that he had relayed to more than 9000 families the news that their loved ones, many of who had been reported killed or missing, were alive.
It was important to keep up the morale of the soldiers that were far away from home and family. The United Service Organization for National Defense, later shortened to U.S.O., began as a governmental agency on February 4, 1941. The federal government donated fifteen million dollars to support the organization. The first civil organizations involved in the U.S.O. included the YMCA, the YWCA, the Salvation Army, the National Catholic Community Service and the National Jewish Welfare Board. These agencies in Dayton combined forces to answer the need of every service man and woman, and made up the agencies represented in the U.S.O. council.
When soldiers arrived at Union Station in Dayton they found a USO lounge waiting for them. Magazines, comfortable chairs, a telephone, letter writing facilities, food (cookies, apples, coffee and donuts) were all there for their use. A hostesses was usually on hand to supply information about the city.
On the second floor, in a quiet corner, was a dormitory. Equipped with army cots, blankets and pillows, the dorm offered a place for travel-worn soldiers who had short stopovers in Dayton to be able to catch some sleep. On the foot of each cot was a card on which the serviceman would write the hour he would like to be awakened. Military police would check the times every now and then to make sure the soldiers would catch their next train on time.
One of the first servicemen’s club to open in Dayton was located in the Parish House of Christ Church. On December 19, 1941 over one hundred enlisted men stationed at Wright Field and Patterson Field were guests at a dance that evening which marked the formal opening of the club. It wasn’t long, however, before the Parish House was overtaxed to handle the steadily increasing attendance. On April 6, Army Day, a larger serviceman’s center was located in the Municipal building at Third and Ludlow, which formerly housed the YMCA. This included a lounge, library, washing rooms, showers, kitchen facilities a huge game room labeled “Men’s Haven” where there were comfortable chairs and davenports where men could take a nap. Typewriters were provided for writing letters home. By 1944 over 20,000 soldiers a year were using the facility, all free of charge.
For the women in the service, the YWCA offered everything the YMCA offered the men. In addition, it offered overnight housing to women in uniform and to wives and babies of soldiers.
The Linden Community Center offered service men the use of lounge rooms, gymnasium, swimming pool, social rooms and a dorm for 30 soldiers.
The Soldiers’ Service Center officials had a list of homes where soldiers could stay overnight free or for a small charge. This list came in handy because, although Dayton had approximately 3,000 hotel rooms, it was practically impossible to secure a room unless reservations were made over a week in advance. The YMCA was in the same class as the hotels in so far as reservations were concerned.
The Jewish Federation was also active in looking out for the welfare of soldiers. The federation arranged dances, picnics, breakfasts, and other recreational services for men of the Jewish faith.
The Travelers’ Aid ran an information booth at Third and Main that helped both servicemen and civilian alike find his way around the city. The Salvation Army ran a mobile canteen at the C. & L. E. bus depot every day from 4 to 9 p.m. The National Catholic Council of Community Activities would throw open the facilities of the Loretto to service men and women and also war workers.
Volunteer Work
A good way to build up morale on the home front was to volunteer in some way that helped in the war effort. The volunteers of the “production corps” as they were sometimes called, worked under the guidance of the Red Cross. Literally thousands of women, at home, at their churches and in their club rooms, worked day and night knitting warm sweaters, mufflers, socks and mittens for men on the front, and sewing hospital gowns and robes for convalescent soldiers and sailors.
In less than a year the Red Cross had set up a core group of over 13,000 volunteers in the Dayton area, who in 1943 alone, packed and shipped almost 90,000 garments. More than 28,000 Red Cross packages assembled by Dayton area volunteers were shipped to Navy personnel overseas. Most packages contained thread, needles, pins, soap, cigarettes, playing cards, small hooks, writing paper, mints, razor blades, shoelaces and a Red Cross first-aid book.
Dayton was second to none when it came to its citizens helping the less fortunate. During the war, over 31,000 volunteers in Montgomery County logged in more than 3.5 million hours of service.
Much of this time was spent helping in the Dayton Community Chest. Formed in 1918 as “The War Chest”, the Community Chest claimed to be the “guardian of the home line of defense”.
Typical local services offered included free or part-paid hospital care, day care for pre-school and school-age children of working mothers, emergency financial aid, arrangements for child adoptions and training for the handicapped. Contributions during the war also helped in the United Nations Relief Fund, the U.S.O., the United Seamen’s Service, as well as aiding war prisoners.
Sidebar text:
Letters to and from soldiers overseas during the holiday seasons were especially cherished. For many, this would be the first time the family would be separated.
In a letter to his sister a soldier from Dayton wrote that “Mail is the most important thing to a soldier. Sometimes he becomes so tired and worn out he just doesn’t care what happens. Then when a letter comes he feels like sticking to the job.”
A lot of Dayton soldiers learned that their old gang at the office did not forget them during the holidays. In 1942 NCR sent Christmas packages to 1,800 employees in the Armed Forces. The box contained cigarettes, soap, three pounds of candy, handkerchiefs, razor blades, shaving cream, a toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, pencil, a Rand McNally folding map of the world and a certificate for a $25 War Bond.
Keeping up the morale for civilians was also important. The ten-men crew of the famous Flying Fortress airplane, the Memphis Belle, visited Dayton July 9-10, 1943. The stop-over included a speech at NCR, where the crew drew cheers as they spoke of how the employees there were their “team mates” in the war effort. They also took the time to sign autographs and dine with their mascot “Stuka”.
Over 26,000 pints of blood were given by Dayton citizens for use by the armed forces during the ten visits of the Mobile Blood Donor Unit from June 1942 to May 1945. By the time the war was over, nearly 46,000 young people had enrolled as members in the Junior Red Cross. One of their many contributions included collecting toys for children in area hospitals, as well as help pack Christmas boxes for children overseas.
Everyone loves ceremonies, especially when they involve a parade with its bands, floats and bunting. Army Day in April, Memorial Day in May, Navy Day in October, all were celebrated by three-mile long parades of military organizations. Thousands of Daytonians would pack both sides of Main Street and watch as floats, jeeps, marching soldiers and sailors, Red Cross nurses and aides, Blue Star Mothers, civilian defense volunteers, high school bands and drum and bugle corps passed by. It wasn’t unusual for a parade to take 45 minutes to pass by Third and Main Street.
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