The Lonesome GI

Johnnie is lonesome enough to eat dog biscuits.

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

SPEAKER_00 0:00

The loss of $5, a straight razor, and a notebook from Jim's barber shop was reported by James E. Bloom. 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 Friega, 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 front. On today's episode, Sea Ration Biscuits, Illiteracy in the Army, and G.I. Joe. So pull up a chair, get that coffee ready for Duncan, 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 15th, 1945. In military news. On the Eastern Front, Soviet armies are tearing through German defenses in Poland with astonishing speed. The Red Army's massive winter offense launched only days ago is now threatening to completely collapse Nazi Germany's eastern defenses. Soviet troops have captured the city of Kelsey and crossed the Icy Pilika River, driving westward toward the heart of Germany itself. For civilians in London, New York, or Detroit, the reports sound almost unbelievable. After years of terrible fighting in the East, the Soviets are advancing dozens of miles a day. German forces, once thought unstoppable, are now retreating in chaos. And somewhere deep inside military headquarters, many leaders are beginning to quietly ask the question no one dared ask before. Could the war in Europe actually end this year? Meanwhile, Adolf Hitler has met with his top commanders in Adelhorst, one of his military headquarters in Western Germany. There he orders German troops to continue resisting the Allied advance at all costs before departing for Berlin. This would be the last time Hitler ever visited the Western Front. Soon he will disappear underground into the Fuhrerbunker beneath Berlin, where the final days of the Third Reich are rapidly approaching. Over in Belgium and Luxembourg, American troops continue to tighten the noose around German forces trapped after the failed Battle of the Bulge offensive. Just a few weeks earlier, newspapers back home carried frightening headlines about Germany's surprise attack through the Ardennes forest. But now the momentum has shifted again. Near Baston and Saint Vith, exhausted German soldiers struggle to retreat through snow and freezing temperatures while Allied troops press steadily forward. For many American families, the relief is enormous. The German gamble that once threatened to split the Allied lines has failed. And for civilians across Europe, survival itself has become a daily battle. In London, occasional V 2 rocket strikes continue to spread fear and destruction. In the occupied Netherlands, people are enduring what would later be called the hunger winter. Fuel is nearly impossible to find. Food shortages grow worse by the week. Families burn furniture for warmth and survive on thin soups, potatoes, and even sugar beets. Children walk through frozen streets searching for anything edible. Even as liberation draws closer, suffering continues almost everywhere the war has touched. Across the Pacific, American forces continue their push through the Philippines. After recent landings at Lingayan Gulf, U.S. troops are now advancing inland on the island of Luzon, crossing rivers and fighting entrenched Japanese defenders village by village. Above Germany, Allied bombers continue around the clock attacks on rail yards, factories, and transportation lines. Entire cities shake under the weight of American and British air raids as the Allies continue to destroy Germans' ability to move troops and supplies between collapsing fronts. The war is clearly turning against Nazi Germany now. The fronts are collapsing. Allied armies are closing in from every direction, but no one listening that night could know exactly how much destruction still lay ahead before peace would finally arrive. And in other news? Back home near Detroit, the local newspaper reported this bit of crime in Johnny's hometown of Hazel Park. Thieves break in four HP stores in same block. Break ins at four Hazel Park stores in one block along John R. Street were reported to police today. In all cases, the robbers entered by breaking through a rear window. John R. Jones Real Estate Office, 22802 John R. was ransacked and two cabinets were broken open. A thirty-eight caliber Smith and Wesson revolver is missing. Stephen Kuimogan, proprietor of the Diamond Cleaners 22712 John R., reported that four suits were taken from his store. The loss of five dollars, a straight razor, and a notebook from Jim's barber shop, 22720 John R. was reported by James E. Bloom. Olive Hildebrand, owner of the Little Beauty Shop 22714 John R, reported the loss of $12. For my listeners familiar with the Detroit area, this is a stretch of John R. right between $696 and 9 Mile. It's no surprise that none of the businesses mentioned in this news story are there anymore. Instead, you'll find a rent a center, a pizza restaurant called Grinder Z, a Dollar General, Sunlight Dental, and Wild Bills Tobacco. One other interesting note, in that same newspaper there is a column written by a doctor Logan Clending answering the question, is coffee harmful? I won't go into detail, but the short answer is no. The article also asks whether smoking cigarettes is detrimental to someone with high blood pressure. Yes. And whether drinking ice water, quote, all the time, is harmful. It is not. And now the letter. Monday, january fifteenth, nineteen forty five. My dearest Mary, hello, sweetheart, this is your lonesome GI again. Here I am deep in the heart of Texas, and there you are way up in my heart, but a long, long ways away from my arms. So far I haven't found any way I can satisfy the longing in my heart for you. All that I can think of is that soon I shall be home again and have you by my side again. Then and only then will the ache in my heart ease. I love you, darling, more than anything in the world. Do you want to know what I've been doing while writing this? I'm eating dog biscuits. Yep, they are a part of our canned sea rations. Well not actually dog biscuits, I can't think of anything else to call them. We are on sea rations for two days during our bivouac, and this is one of them. The rations come in two cans. One is a can of meat and vegetable, and the other contains three pieces of hard candy, powdered coffee, cocoa, or lemonade, and five of the biscuits. It's not very good, but often it's a lot better than the chow we get from the kitchen. After it's been warmed up and the coffee mixed with hot water, a man can be satisfied for as long as two hours, if not less. However, apples swiped from the mess tent help throughout the day. That's where I was yesterday afternoon and evening. My turn came up again sooner than usual. But it wasn't too bad. The cooks took all the food back into the camp area and cooked it there, so all I had to do was help peel spuds and then sleep for about two hours. If it was like that all the time, it wouldn't be too bad, would it? We're all set up now for the next two weeks, and from the looks of things, it might not be too bad. The weather has cleared and it is dry. The nights are cold, but we sleep with all our clothes on, so we get by somehow. Hello again, here it is, twenty four hours later, and I haven't finished yet. Tuesday noon, and I love you another day more. The more I'm away from you, the more I love you. Maybe that doesn't sound right, but what I mean is that I love you more and more every day. We've been running all over Texas again, and I'm just about pooped out. I picked up a sweet cold last night and I have a continual running nose. Some fun with only two hangies. Well, dear, I haven't much time to write now. It seems that every time I pick up a pencil, our sergeant gets the idea that I'm actually going to write a book, and as he can't read, he resents it very much. So I have to humor him and do as he tells me. After all, he does have the last word, or will have till the day I leave, and then I have a few choice words for him to listen to. It will be a pleasure. Keep your chin up, darling. Three weeks more will see me through training and then home for a little while. A darn little while, but it's better than nothing. I'll be coming home by troop train, so the fare won't be too much. But anyway, if possible, scrape up some money for me and send it. By money order only. Mail it so it will reach me back in camp about the twenty ninth of this month. I'm going to sign off now, sweetheart. Kiss the kids for me, and here is more love than you know what to do with. All my love, sweetheart, Johnny. A few notes from today's letter C Ration Biscuits. The standard US military field ration from World War II through the Vietnam War almost always included some form of hard biscuits or hard tack style crackers. Veterans' memories of them are, well, let's say they're not always positive. The biscuits were very dry and dense, designed to provide calories and survive rough handling. Three or four of these were usually packed in a small can or waxed carton alongside powdered coffee or cocoa, sugar, and sometimes candy or gum. Many soldiers found them bland and extremely hard, closer to Civil War era hard tack than to any civilian cracker. They could be eaten dry, but most troops preferred to soften them in coffee, soup, or water to avoid breaking teeth. Common improvisations included crumbling biscuits into hot canned stew or meat to thicken it, mixing biscuit crumbs with water to make a paste or dumpling like addition, using them as a base for improvised sandwiches with spam or cheese from other rations, or heating them slightly to improve the flavor and texture. These biscuits sometimes became raw material for creative works of art, carved into picture frames or keepsakes, or even used jokingly as improvised ammunition in Barracks horseplay. Some veterans do remember the biscuits fondly as part of the shared experience of field life, while others recall them as dry, tasteless teeth breakers that they were happy to leave behind when MREs replaced sea rations in the nineteen eighties. I dug up a couple fond memories from World War II veterans, and here they are. The biscuits came three to a can, hard as a rock. We'd dunk them in coffee until they were soft enough to chew. If you tried to bite them dry, you'd risk a trip to the dentist. And that's from a World War II infantryman in the Italy campaign. Another one? They weren't so bad if you were hungry enough, we'd crumble them into the meat and beans to make it go further. Sometimes we'd trade them to guys who liked them better. And that was from a U.S. Army cook in the Pacific Theater. Also, Johnny jokes about his superior officer not being able to read. But in fact, illiteracy in the U.S. Army during World War II was a significant but often overlooked issue. When millions of Americans were drafted or enlisted between 1941 and 1945, the Army became a cross section of the country itself, and that meant it inherited many of the nation's educational inequalities, especially from rural areas, impoverished communities, and segregated school systems in the American South. By the beginning of World War II, outright illiteracy in the United States had fallen dramatically from 19th century levels, but functional illiteracy remained widespread. Estimates vary, but military records and later studies suggest that roughly 10 to 15% of draft age men had serious reading difficulties. Several hundred thousand men examined for service were classified as unable to read or write at the level the Army considered necessary, and tens of thousands of recruits entered the Army with reading abilities below a fourth grade level. The issue was especially pronounced among poor rural Americans, African Americans in the segregated South, recent immigrants, and men who had left school early during the Great Depression. The Army relied heavily on intelligence and literacy testing, particularly the Army General Classification Test or the AGCT. Men who scored poorly could be rejected from service, assigned to labor battalions, or placed in special training units. Now the Army divided these recruits into categories. Categories one through three averaged to excellent. Category four was low mental aptitude, and Category V was considered unfit for military service. Category four men became a major political controversy during the war because the Army desperately needed manpower but worried about training soldiers who could not understand written instructions. In 1942-43, the Army created programs that were informally and by some officers and enlisted men very cruelly nicknamed Moron Battalions. Officially, these were special training units or STUs. They were also literacy and remedial education programs. So these units taught basic reading and writing, arithmetic, military vocabulary, and how to follow written orders. Surprisingly, many recruits improved quickly. The Army discovered that a large number of supposedly quote unquote low intelligence soldiers had simply received poor schooling rather than lacking ability. By 1944, hundreds of thousands of soldiers had received remedial education. Many previously rejected men were retrained and successfully integrated into service roles. Illiteracy rates among black Americans entering the Army were disproportionately high, not because of lack of ability, but because segregation and chronic underfunding of black schools in the South had denied many basic educational opportunities. The Army's segregated structure often reinforced those discriminatory assumptions. Black recruits were more likely to be classified into labor units. Literacy tests were culturally biased, and possibly not surprisingly, Southern draft boards sometimes manipulated testing. Yet many African American servicemen used military education programs to improve literacy, gain technical skills, and later pursue college education under the GI Bill after the war. Since World War II was a highly technical war, soldiers needed to be able to read manuals, understand maps, operate radios, maintain vehicles, interpret written orders, and follow safety procedures. Even infantrymen increasingly needed technical competence. Illiteracy could literally become a life or death issue in combat. The Army discovered that modern mechanized warfare required a more educated force than earlier wars had. Ironically, World War II turned the U.S. military into one of the largest adult education systems in American history. The Army operated classrooms on bases worldwide. They published simplified training manuals. They produced instructional films, and they encouraged correspondence courses. For many soldiers, especially those from poor backgrounds, the military provided their first consistent educational experience. Historians will often argue that World War II actually helped accelerate adult literacy in America, and the issue of illiteracy occasionally appeared in wartime memoirs and films, such as recruits being embarrassed about reading letters aloud, soldiers learning to sign their names, and buddies secretly helping one another read Army forms. These stories reflected a broader truth about Wartime Army. It was made up not only of heroes and professionals, but also ordinary Americans carrying the scars of poverty and unequal opportunity. The top song in the U.S. on this date, January 15th, 1945, was Don't Fence Me In by Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters. Counting down the 100 most popular songs of 1945, though, number 96 on our list is Joe Stafford with There's No You. Now Joe Stafford was featured in last week's episode, so I'm going to jump directly to the song. There's No You is a tender wartime ballad, written by songwriter Tom Adair with music by Hal Hopper. The song was first introduced in 1944 and quickly became popular among big band vocalists of the era. Stafford's version, recorded with the orchestra of Paul Weston, is remembered for its understated emotional warmth and remarkable vocal clarity. Unlike many upbeat swing numbers dominating dance halls during the war years, There's No You belongs to a quieter category of wartime popular music. Intimate, reflective songs centered on absence, longing, and emotional devotion. The lyrics are simple and thereby key to the song's effectiveness. There's no you, no one else can take your place. That sounds familiar from Johnny's letters, doesn't it? No dramatic heartbreak, just clarity that the singer isn't merely lonely, but emotionally incomplete without one specific person. During World War II, when millions of couples and families were separated by military service, songs like this carried enormous emotional weight. And while I can't say if Johnny was a fan of this song, his letters certainly convey the sentiment. That said, Stafford was known among servicemen as G.I. Joe because they adored her recordings, and There's No You demonstrates exactly why. The musical arrangement is sophisticated pop orchestration, soft strings and brass moving gently beneath Stafford's voice, bringing to mind a wistful late night radio broadcast. The song also illustrates the beginning of a transition in American popular music. Big band music was still dominant, but vocalists were becoming the true stars. Record buyers increasingly connected emotionally with singers themselves rather than just the orchestras backing them. Jo Stafford excelled in this environment because of her technical precision and ability to sound emotionally sincere without over singing. Critically, Stafford was admired for nearly flawless pitch and diction. Fellow musicians often described her voice as one of the purest in the era. In There's No You, that technical control helps the emotional message land more effectively. Today, There's No You stands as an excellent example of wartime romantic pop, music designed not for spectacle, but for comfort. It captures the emotional atmosphere of 1944 and 1945. Separation, patience, devotion, and hope for a reunion after the war. 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, and that playlist is also titled Dog Tags and Paper Hearts. Please keep the feedback coming by emailing me at Dog TagsPaperHarts at gmail.com. And most importantly, if you have a story from World War II that you're willing to share on this podcast, please drop me a line and let's make that happen. Until next time,