Letters of WWII salators reveal one side of mother that we never knewExBulletin

Mary Louise Kelly, host:

Today is the 80th birthday of 8 May 1945 – the surrender of Germany and the end of the Second World War in Europe. That jubilee resonates for Bob Mondello from NPR because his family recently found forgotten letters that his mother had saved from the war. Because Sunday is Mother's Day, we asked Bob to share them.

Bob Mondello, Byline: They have been in a box in my sister's basement for decades.

This article is so thin.

Aaron: I know, yes.

Forrest: Feel this article.

Juanita: They called it the onion skin.

Forrest: I mean …

Aaron: It's like tracing paper.

Mondello: My sister, Juanita, and her sons, Forrest and Aaron, gathered in my dining room to view the unexpected treasure she dug up a few weeks ago – 43 letters from clearly beaten soldiers who had met my mother in Red Cross Dances in Rome in the last months of the World War – for our Astonishment, Commentaarts, Commentaarts, Commentaarts, Commentaarts, Commentaarts, Commentaarten.

Juanita: She was a Hussy.

Mondello: (laughter).

If she had died not long ago, Mama would have reached the century span this year, which means that she received some of these letters when she was only 19, and the boys who written her would usually have been about that age. So a quick memory for my family about broadcasting tiquettes.

These are people who really exist. They would all be one hundred now, so we will only use first names when we talk.

With that out of the way, on the letters – the first thing you notice after the super light air mail paper they used, according to the standards of today this biggest generation of boys are practically calligraphers – dazzling italics, lines straight, even on non -usual paper.

Aaron: punctuation and so is appropriate.

Mondello: beautiful handwriting, without necessarily writing skills. One man, Frank, starts every letter in the hope that it will find my mother in the very best health. Then he tells her where he writes – De Mess Hall, say – and how it is again. Others are more fun. Ed for example.

Forrest: (reading) Best Homha (PH).

Mondello: Mom was born in Panama, and her first name, Grandah, was unusual enough that Ed decided to play.

Forrest: (reading) Dear Homha. HOMAHA. OHMAHAHA (PH). Nationale. I bet you didn't think I could remember how to spell the above.

Mondello: There were two EDs and an Edmund (PH) among the letter writers. My sister looks through my mother's comment cards to find the right one.

Juanita: So this one is only addresses.

Mondello: You turn the card.

Aaron: And then you read that.

Juanita: Yes.

(Reading) Edward. Meet him at the APO. A very nice boy. However, we always have some kind of discussions. He is 28.

Mondello: That was old. Most of her correspondents were more like …

Juanita: (reading) Captain James. He will be 20 in October. He is a nice boy and he comes from Texas.

Mondello: Rome was released only a few months earlier by Allied troops, and the Red Cross, where mother worked, sponsored clubs for soldiers – table tennis, dancing almost every night. Mother was young, rave -haired and not connected and seems to have had a lot of lovers – some flexible, such as Charles.

Forrest: (reading) I hope to see you again, but until I do that, do you mind if I fall in love with you?

Mondello: others less flexible, such as James.

Forrest: (reading) Wonder how often I should ask you before I got a date. That has been worried since I returned.

Juanita: Mom had to explain that the Red Cross advised the young women they employed not to form attachments. She had discovered the basic idea. In the 43 letters she had kept a newspaper article about war babies born of unmarried mothers. And at least she seems to have been stuck with James.

Forrest: (reading) You immediately put me on many things, such as the reason why you don't have dates. I can't say I'm blaming you. It is even very smart on your part. I shouldn't agree with you, should I? – Because it will be difficult to convince yourself the next time I see you.

Mondello: Seriously sweet, these guys. And full of surprises, even in their signatures.

Forrest: (read) lovingly yours, Tommy. PS – Don't forget the cakes – Smiley face.

Mondello: (laughter) Smiley Face?

Forrest: he walks his y and then sets a smiley face.

Aaron: He is ahead of his time.

Mondello: Aaron shines.

Aaron: It's a bit cool, like family history. Simply walk through. I really enjoy.

Mondello: He's not alone. This is all a mother I have never heard about – my sister too. When I asked our brother, Steve, what he knew about mother during the Second World War, he was only …

Steve: She played Pingpong.

Mondello: Because in Family Lore, she met Dad. But she met Dad in New York years later and she died long before Forrest and Aaron were born. So this is really new – a mother and grandmother we had never known before, viewed by her interactions with boys she had never mentioned so much.

Juanita: (read) Oh, Sergeant Bob. I met him in the Snack Bar Office of the Depot Club. We also went a picnic on the lake on a whole day. He lives in California, was born in Illinois. He left to be again assigned. I think I love him. Winky, Hot, Bob, Cutie-Pie.

Mondello: (laughter) I have so many questions. Most of these guys were just in the city, and because she met them on dancing, what mother usually kept track of their Fred Astaire potential, such as …

Juanita: (reading) Ricky. Met him on Tiber Terrace on June 16, 1945. He sings, and when he dances, he likes to dive. He has a friend named Dave (PH). Dave apparently does not like diving.

Mondello: Apparently just as important, their bravery at table tennis.

Juanita: (reading) man. I met him in the Corso club, June 17, 1945. He plays Pingpong, but I defeated him.

Mondello: The loss seems to have come under Guy's skin. He sent this letter only a few days later.

Forrest: (reading) Cook (pH) and I was on Pass today, and we were in the city and had a few fast games from Pingpong. And to be honest, I think the boy can say he will learn something when he plays with me. In fact, if I would play you again and really try it, you could probably say the same thing. Every time you feel happiness, you just come down and we will arrange it once and for all. This time I will – temporarily – forget that you are a lady. PS – Seriously, I think you are a fairly good player. But don't you think I'm just a little better?

(LAUGHTER)

Forrest: four exclamation marks.

(LAUGHTER)

Juanita: Give him hell, Mom.

Mondello: Mother saved a letter that was more serious – from a commander, which means that he would have been at least 35, 40.

Mark: two days after Christmas.

Mondello: Juanita's husband, Mark, is our reader.

Mark: (reading) Grandah, someone somewhere said that there was no fool like an old fool, and I once said that I would never fall in love again. I also did reasonably well when holding my resolution until last July. That was when I first came to Rome. Three weeks later, on my way to my new assignment, I stopped to take another look at the girl I couldn't get out of my mind.

Mondello: In the coming months he came back again and again. He writes, they met, he had a silversmith he thought she would like. She gave him medicinal cognac when he had a cold. He goes three pages further about how he debated about her how he felt, but thought that this would be selfish. So he kept going back to the front without saying anything – in fear.

Mark: (reading) I was so much in love with you that I couldn't sleep at night and naturally took food.

Mondello: So he decided …

Mark: (reading) I would be this very selfish once. I wanted you.

Mondello: He finally decided to speak his opinion – even dreamed of her to marry him – and then returned on Christmas Day 1944 to see her.

(Soundbite of Music)

Mark: (reading) But this trip to the club was where I stumbled. I saw you with the background – all those guys of your own age, who look at you so admiringly, and the sergeant you worshiped, and how happy you were among them. Well, I pinched myself to wake up from my dreams.

Mondello: He quotes a little Tennyson, says he gives her back to her own generation and asks her to forgive him for slipping Naples without calling her – that it pops up his egoism again.

Mark: (read) I just want to see you while I dreamed – not in farewell.

(Soundbite of Song, “Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas”)

Non -geidified musical artist: (singing) Hold a Merry Christmas.

Mondello: The war ended a few months later, and against the next Christmas, mother was at Barnard College in New York, where she met a Columbia Law student about her age named Tony Mondello, about a Pingpong table. And yes, he could dance – that was probably the clincher. When we grew up, mum and dad went on the dance floor at parties, their friends a step back to watch.

(Soundbite of Music)

Mondello: So in a certain sense we knew the mother that these guys were writing – just didn't know or don't remember after all these years. Isn't it just like a mother to leave her children a memory? I'm Bob Mondello.

(Soundbite of Music)

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