Ku'uipo

Johnny games the system and finds beauty in darkness.

Links:

1.               The Hat Man: Legend, Sightings, and what it might mean

2.               TS Card | The Chaplain Kit

Spotify songs:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/02U2OAJJSiouQAEzmy4EqW?si=C6ut7UWXTxuzYn6iMIW_3g&pi=rSW-kgCWR1mMr

Please send comments and suggestions to dogtagspaperhearts@gmail.com

Spotify playlist:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/02U2OAJJSiouQAEzmy4EqW?si=Jg8CANxwRVCD6smIny0C4Q&pi=dmQkyBg9Rrqiq

Transcript

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SPEAKER_00 0:00

I guess times were different, but golly, that scene is pretty cringe today. Welcome to Dog Tags and Paper Hearts, a chronicle of my grandfather's letters home during his time in the service. I'm your host, Don Frieda, and in each episode we'll travel back to a time when swing bands ruled the airwaves, ration books shaped the dinner table, and handwritten letters carried love across oceans. Join me as we uncover the stories, sounds, and surprises of an era defined by courage, change, and a touch of romance. From the battlefront to the home fronts. On today's episode, Here Come the Waves! As dark as the inside of your hat, Huipo and Wahini, and T.S. cards. So, pull up a chair, gaze out at the fireflies, and let's rewind the clock together. Because the 1940s weren't just about war and worry, they were about hope, humor, and heart. This is Dog Tags and Paper Hearts. A couple of news items from the front on the day this letter was written, January 1, 1945. From the European front, the Great Winter Battle in the Ardennes continues as Allied forces press to contain the German offensive known as the Battle of the Bulge. Enemy troops, launched under orders from Adolf Hitler, remain engaged in fierce fighting against determined American resistance. Reports from the front tell of bitter cold, heavy snow, and unrelenting combat. The town of Bastone, held by U.S. forces, stands firm despite encirclement in recent days. Military officials express cautious confidence that the German advance has been slowed and may soon be turned back. In the Pacific, American air and naval power continue to strike at Japan across a wide front. Bombing raids are increasing in intensity, aimed at weakening the enemy's ability to wage war, bringing Allied forces ever closer to the Japanese homeland. From the Philippines, forces under General Douglas MacArthur press onward in their campaign to liberate the islands. Fighting remains fierce, but progress is steady as American and Filipino troops reclaim ground from the enemy. At sea, Allied convoys cross the Atlantic with increasing security, though enemy submarines remain a threat. Naval authorities report continued success in protecting vital supply lines. And on the home front, Americans observe New Year's Day in a time of war. Across the nation, celebrations are tempered by thoughts of loved ones overseas. Rationing continues, and officials urge renewed support for war bond drives in this critical year. There's a growing sense that 1945 may bring victory, but also recognition that difficult days still lie ahead. And now the letter Monday, january first, nineteen forty five. Happy New Year, darling. Hello, sweetheart. How do you feel this morning? You must have done a little celebrating last night. At least you saw the new year in, didn't you? Ah, come on now, I know you did. Well I did. I saw it right in my bed. Yep, by ten PM I was sound asleep and no amount of racket could have woke me up, so I had a full night's dream of you. You were so close and so real that I can still feel you in my arms. And it is the most pleasant feeling I've had in three months. You smiled at me and told me how much you loved me, and my heart did flip flops all over the place. Golly, I love you. What kind of a day did you have? Busy, slow, full, or what have you? The kids probably drove you nuts as usual, but I bet you wouldn't want it any other way. If they were all quiet as little mice, something would be wrong and you'd be worrying yourself sick. Maybe you let them stay up to greet the little new year. Did you? If you did, they probably were sitting up and sound asleep by the time twelve o'clock came around. Am I right? Oh well, they will see a lot more New Year's come in and then I'll be home to help them celebrate. It was very quiet here over the weekends. We quit work at the usual time, 5 15 p.m. Saturday. For some reason or other they cut down on passes and most of the fellows had to stay in the camp, which was perfectly alright with me. We didn't get paid for the month and my total fortune consisted of 22 cents. But I have enough cigarettes to last me until the middle of the week, and that's all I usually buy anyhow, so I just took in a show. Here come the waves, Bing Crosby's latest with Betty Hutton. And it's pretty good, too. Try it and see when you get the chance. That took care of Sunday afternoon. The morning I spent catching up on my mail. I wrote to Johnny, the Gutsons, Pop, and a fellow at Camp Maxie here in Texas. That all took me up to Chowtime, after which I went to the show. I spent the evening at the service club library, as you probably noticed by the letterhead of this paper. I caught up on a little bit of my reading and browsed through half a dozen books, just killing time till lights out so I could get to sleep. And sleep I did, as I mentioned before. Our schedule for the next few weeks is going to be plenty tough, and I figure I had better get all the sleep I can, as it will be a scarce commodity from now on. So up early in the morning to be pleasantly surprised to find that we have one whole free hour this morning. So how better could I use it than to start a letter to you? It's the best way I can think of to start the new year right. What do you think? It has finally stopped raining. One solid week of rain, and then within two hours the clouds rolled away and the sun came out clear and bright. How long it will last is impossible to say, but we're going to enjoy it as long as we can. I only hope that there is no more rain until we come back from our bivouac. The next two or three weeks tell the story and the hardest part of our training will be over. And then it won't be long until I can hold you in my arms again and tell you how much I love you. Will you do me a favor? Tell everyone that we're out in the field and not to expect letters from me. I know I won't be able to do any writing while out there, except of course to you. I believe I've told you all there is to tell about OCS. I haven't heard anything new since the interview last Thursday. Probably sometime this week or next week we'll be called before the IRTC board and get another grilling. Golly, they certainly do get personal when asking questions. Why, they know more about myself than I do, and there's no use trying to BS them. If you've a certain question one way, you had better answer it the same way again, for they have a volume of paper with all the data on you. Mostly though, they check for aggressiveness and accuracy. If you can answer a question quickly and have it right, it counts more in your favor than anything else. So far I've done okay, but if I have to face many more officers, I'm going to be so damn nervous that they'll think I've got St. Vitus dance. Wow, blackout. Don't mind me, honey. Just as I had finished the last line, all the lights in camp went out. Transformers in the powerhouse blue. Kripes, it's as dark as the inside of your hat around here. I've swiped a flashlight to write by. Looking out the window you can see what looks like a million fireflies. I guess everyone who has a flashlight is out trying to illuminate the camp. Hell, let them walk around in the dark. I'm satisfied right here. Ah, they're on again. Must have fixed it. Did you notice the change again? I started to write at 7 AM. That only lasted till 8. Started again at 7.45 PM and now it's 9.15 PM. We've got another inspection tomorrow and everyone is working like beavers. That is, all but me. I pulled a fast one and swiped a mop and broom at noontime, hid them, and half an hour after chow, the area around my bunk was spickin' span. All I've got to do now is dust in the morning and mop the floor again. Pretty good, eh? Oh yes, payday today, and I'm pretty damn mad. They shorted me a buck and a half, charge it up for laundry, and I have never used the darned thing. I argued with the lieutenant, but he said there is nothing I can do about it. Everyone is supposed to sign up for the GD service unless they write a statement to the effect that they don't want it. Of course, they neglected to tell me that at the time. Very convenient for them. About a hundred and fifty men out of the company were rooked the same way, so it makes a nice little profit for the laundry company. So by way of consolation, we are all going to the issued TS cards. Figure out what that means. Well, honey, it is now six oh five AM Wednesday morning. Don't ask me what happened to Tuesday. Everything has been snafu and we don't know whether we're coming or going. Just get started on one job and first thing you know, off we would go to another area to start another problem. Hell, we didn't finish anything all day, running from one place to another like a bunch of scared chickens. That went on till four fifteen PM. Then a GD parade. Holy cow. Know what we had to wear? Our OD uniform with leggings and overcoat. Of course, the weather would have to get clear and warm for the benefit of the reviewing officers. It would have been too bad if they had to put on their heavy uniform coats, tisk tisk. It took us about two and a half hours to get that business over with before we could eat chow. Just as we thought we could relax, what do you think happened? Detail, detail, detail. Clean mortars, machine guns, automatic rifles. Kripes, we haven't even fired them yet, and already they've got us pinned down on the job. Oh well, if it hadn't been that, it probably would have been something else. We didn't get back to the barracks till ten thirty PM, and every one of us was so dog tired we didn't even take showers. God how we stink. So it was early, haha, to bed and early to rise, four fifteen AM. Now we are waiting for trucks to haul our fannies, I'm being polite, out to the machine gun range. If I never get there I'll be satisfied. We probably won't be in again until about 7 30 PM. Busy little bees, aren't we? I'll keep on writing till the trucks come and then try to finish this out in the field. Our lieutenant talked to us yesterday about saving some dough. He says, You guys better save your pay, because you'll be getting a furlough in a couple of weeks and you's gotta have enough for the fair home before you's can leave. Those are his words, not mine. So from the looks of things we are on a shortened schedule. I wish to God they'd give us something definite to go on, but that's not the army way. Keep 'em in suspense and they'll be willing to do anything is the way they feel about us. Excuse the looks of this letter, please, dear. I've been carrying it around in my pocket all day, and it's been getting some pretty rough treatment. It is now nine PM Wednesday evening. That will give you some idea of how much time I have for writing. Say I got the box of cookies. Yippee! Again, I am the most popular man in the barracks. Honey, they were swell, and just what the doctor ordered. I'm only sorry that I can't take them out on bivouac with me. By the time I got them out there they'd be nothing but crumbs. So I believe I'll enjoy them on this, our last night in camp for a week. Might as well make merry while I can. But gosh, honey, it was swell of you to bake all of them for me. I certainly do appreciate it. Kath sent me a box of cookies too. Those I passed out. I'm no fool, keep the best for myself. And I also got the identification bracelet from Mother. It's a very nice gadget, name and serial number engraved on a broad plate. Pretty snazzy. Also a box of Sanders candy. I'm all loaded down with food again, and I'll have to do some fast eating to take care of it all. Well, Mary dear, I'll have to be quitting now, I guess. I've got a lot of stuff to pack up for our trip, and as we're getting up in the early, early morning again, I had better get started. I don't know how soon I'll get another chance to write, as we will have night problems all the time we are out, so please bear with me. I wish that I could be with you tonight, dear. Leaving your pictures behind will be a tough deal, as I go to sleep looking at it, but if I take it with me, I'd have nothing left of it at the end of the week. However, I can still dream of you, and that is one thing I can always take with me. The nights that I sleep without dreaming of you are far and few between, and I count them as lost. Every moment that I have free, I'm always thinking of you, sweetheart. I can feel your arms around me and your lips on mine, and it thrills me through and through. If I didn't have you to love and you to love me, I wouldn't be worth a tinker's damn in this world. Only since I've known you have I really known what living was for. And now, more than ever before, I love you, darling. Love you with all my heart and soul. So good night, my little coup Ipo. Kiss my little wahenies good night, and here's a heart full of love for you. All my love, darling. Johnny. A few notes from today's letter Here Come the Waves. Johnny mentions seeing a Bing Crosby movie titled Here Come the Waves, a romantic comedy with co-star Betty Hutton, who plays a dual role as twins. Those who enjoyed it at the time saw it as a lighthearted comedy with an unforgettable musical number which became an immediate hit. Accentuate the positive. Unfortunately, this film doesn't age well. Current viewers see it as a propaganda film encouraging women to join the Waves, a branch of the U.S. Navy which allowed women to serve in non-combat roles to support the war effort. Waves being an acronym for Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service. Propaganda in Hollywood films was not uncommon, nor was the other major element of this film which draws criticism, Bing Crosby performing that hit song Accentuate the Positive in Blackface. Oof. I guess times were different, but golly, that scene is pretty cringe today. On a different note, Johnny describes the blackout as being as dark as the inside of your hat. Now that's a phrase I haven't heard before, but the meaning is really no mystery. It was a phrase used to describe a very dark place or situation, even a state of being overwhelmed by darkness. Interestingly, it is also associated with a folkloric figure known as the Hat Man. You can probably picture exactly what the hat man looks like, a tall, shadowy figure wearing a wide brimmed hat and trench coat. Several cultures, European, Japanese, American, as well as others in South America, contain an oral tradition of people waking in the night to see the hat man in the corner of their bedroom. Interpretations of this phenomena vary. In some cases the hat man is a bad omen, in others he serves as a guardian, and in still others he is merely a traveler. We all dream, and the hat man may simply be a universal archetype. But why the hat? Pre internet it may have once represented authority, but as we become more connected it's more likely that the power of suggestion simply allowed that particular detail to become embedded in our collective psyche. Another element of the letter that puzzled me was Johnny's use of the word kuuipo and wahini. The words looked Hawaiian to me, and indeed they are. Kuuipo being Hawaiian for beloved or cherished one, while Wahini is a word meaning young woman. Why Grandpa suddenly drops a couple Hawaiian words is a mystery to me, as I've never heard him use these words in my life. I guess those Hawaiians at basic training simply rubbed off on him. And finally, TS cards. Johnny tells Mary to figure this one out on her own, which I also had to do. In the letter, Johnny indicates that these were issued to the men after their complaints about paying for a laundry service they never used. Essentially, these were intended as a humorous way to discourage whining by directing the GI to, quote, tell it to the chaplain. More modest chaplains would define TS as theological solutions, but the more widely accepted definition, if you haven't guessed already, was tough shit. The following is an example of what was printed on one such TS card. This beautiful blue sympathy card entitles the bearer to one half hour of crying or beefing in my crying room, artificial shoulders provided. Others contain references to Bible quotes and or a number of checkboxes which could be used for actual visits to the chaplain. I've provided a link to a blog containing several examples in the show notes. Check it out, it's pretty interesting. The top song in the US on this date, January 1st, 1945, was Don't Fence Me In by Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters. Looking forward in the charts, there is nothing that I haven't covered in this podcast until we get to April of 1945. So I'm going to try something different. I found the top 100 songs from 1945 and will highlight one each week starting at 100 and moving steadily toward number one. So, the 100th most popular song in 1945 was Poor Little Rhode Island by Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians. Poor Little Rhode Island is a light, affectionate novelty song that sits at the intersection of big band pop, novelty songwriting, and patriotic Americana. The song was written by lyricist Sammy Kahn, later famous for standards like Let It Snow and composed as part of the 1940 Broadway review Inside USA. That show was built around a tour of all 48 U.S. states, with each number celebrating or gently poking fun at a different place. Poor Little Rhode Island reflects that concept. It playfully focuses on the country's smallest state, framing it as overlooked but lovable. The title itself comes from Rhode Island's tiny size. Lyrics emphasize its teensy weency nature, while ultimately praising it above larger, more famous states. After its stage debut, the song spread through recordings and radio. Lombardo's version became one of the best-known interpretations, benefiting from his enormous popularity in the 1930s and 40s dance band era. Even though it never became a chart-topping smash, his wide audience meant it still sold well and was widely heard. The instrumental style is typical Guy Lombardo, smooth, melodic, and easy to dance to. Lyrically, it contrasts Rhode Island with larger states, Texas, Iowa, and the Carolinas, ultimately declaring the singer's preference for a little roadie. It never became a major hit, but thanks to the wide appeal of Guy Lombardo at the time, it did reach a wide audience through radio and record sales. Today it's remembered mostly as a curiosity of 1940s Americana, a sentimental artifact of a time when Broadway reviews and radio hits celebrated regional identity. Thank you for listening to Dog Tags and Paper Hearts. You can find links to information contained within this episode in the show notes. I've also provided a link to my Spotify playlist of number one songs during the course of this correspondence. That playlist is also titled Dog Tags and Paper Hearts. Please keep the feedback coming by emailing me at Dog TagsPaperhearts at gmail.com. And most importantly, if you have a story from World War II that you're willing to share, drop me a line and we can make that happen. Until next time,