Phil Wood's Letters
Letter #70
All Tangled Up In Memories
To Margretta & Gretchen
22 May 1944
22 May
Dear Girls,
Your letters have been swell – especially your last, Gretch, recalling the old days. It’s hard, very hard to realize that out memories go back almost twenty years now – and we are grown up. Childhood is now gone, we are quite mature, and I don’t like it.
As you say, we have so many memories to share, and somehow most all of them are happy. Or at least even memories of happiness seem pleasant to recall. The only part I don’t like to think about, as you said, was that stretch of a couple of years at 200 – for some reason, adolescence I guess, I remember being perpetually nasty to all of the family.[1] Not knowing why I did it, but doing it nonetheless. Long arguments with Mother, lectures by Daddy and teasing you – and, worst of all, the sitting alone afterward – worrying, wondering why I did it and whether I was going to be that way always. Those were not happy days, but all that went before was, and what came after, the sunny little place at 120 Park and getting to know you after you had grown up.[2]
I got all tangled up in memories last night, went out for air and before I knew it it was one and I had been sitting out there for a couple of hours, watching the moon coquet [sic] with darkness.
We have been having a good time lately – quite a bit of liberty in the Big Town and most of the rest of the time athletics, recreation, fights. We have a bunch of good prizefighters in the outfit, and it has become the most popular thing here. I never saw a fight before I got in the outfit, but now I like it.[3]
A group of officers at a “smoker” – boxing match – in the spring of 1944.
1Lt. Charles W. Carbeau, Jr., is at left in the raincoat. Captain Irving Schechter is in the middle row, second from right.
Our chow has taken a radical turn for the better. I’m almost ashamed to say that we have had fresh, rare, delicious roast beef twice this week, steak once, chicken, lamb chops, etc. We have always had two full meat meals a day; all the eggs, etc., that we want for breakfast. Though rationing has been slacked off, I imagine prices are still high, stuff unavailable.
I am writing to Stew telling him to go ahead if he thinks there is anything to it.[4] I’m not crazy about it though, really. I thought it was a good letter, accomplished what I intended, but not a complete article. I could do a lot better, I really could. This was just a set of notes, more or less. Next time I’ll do a full dress one.[5]
I’m worried about this sickness Gretch – probably too much work running around & worry, Ellis included. Try not to take things like that too seriously, Sis – and you’re not fully recovered from last fall yet, that was a heavy drain on your [system?] and it will take a long time to get all squared away. Try and let some of the emotion of the times bounce off you, ride it, don’t commit your reserves until you have felt out the enemy strength with your front line.[6]
I am very glad about the estate, Mother – that should come just about the time when you need it most. How did they manage to sell them all so suddenly? When I talked to Fred last fall he seemed gloomy about the prospects.[7]
A .45 revolver would be quite alright, Mother. That was what Jack was talking about. An automatic would be better, but either will do.[8]
Thank you all for the cookies – they were delicious – they didn’t last long either.
Lots of love,
Phil
Footnotes
[1] “at 200” – childhood home at 200 Old Broadway, Hastings-on-Hudson, NY.
[2] “120 Park”–probably their Manhattan residence, 120 East 19th Street, off Gramercy Park.
[3] Informal boxing events, called “smokers” in Marine parlance.
[4] Author and editor Stewart Taft Beach, a family friend. “Stew” provided a character recommendation for Phil to join OCS in 1942.
[5] Referring to publishing his letter of 2 April.
[6] Gretchen discovered, much to her surprise, that Ellis Loree was married. (Shortly after this letter, Loree headed overseas with the Army Air Corps and flew over Europe as a bombardier with the 464th Bomb Group.) Phil is also referring to an ailment Gretchen suffered late in 1943, which necessitated an emergency leave back to New York City.
[7] Reference unknown.
[8] It is now, unfortunately, far too late for Phil to receive a pistol from home. In a few days, his division will depart for combat in the Mariana Islands. “Jack” may be Jack Zinsser, a former neighbor and family friend.
Phil Wood’s breezy tone and mentions of liberty and good eating belies the truth of his situation. At this point, his company was living aboard the USS Calvert and moored at Honolulu – in the very final phase of preparations for Operation Forager, the invasion of the Mariana Islands. They have been out of Camp Maui for about two weeks at this point.
He might be feeling especially introspective in this letter because of the events of the previous day. On 21 May 1944, an explosion occurred at a marshaling area called West Loch. LSTs carrying troops of the Second Marine Division exploded and burned, with a force that shook the ground at Honolulu. Rumors flew thick and fast about sabotage or even a Japanese attack (“a second Pearl Harbor,” some thought), and there was a great deal of chaos and confusion. Several ships were completely destroyed, and hundreds of Marines and sailors were killed and injured.
Ultimately, the destruction did not delay the planned operation in the slightest – but it decidedly put the men bound for combat in a pensive mood, re-thinking their mortality.
In her unpublished memoirs, Gretchen recalled the unpleasant side of her big brother’s personality – noting that he had an uncanny knack for knowing the single word or knowing look that would send her into paroxysms of fury. For years, this defined their sibling relationship, and there are still a few little barbs that come through in these letters as grown ups. Despite this acrimony, Gretchen adored her brother and Phil was fiercely protective of his sister.