The Three Fs

Things heat up!

Links:

1. Water fluoridation / Grand Rapids, MI
2. History of the flamethrower

 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

A common philosophy was don't fight each other, save it for the enemy. 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, Fluoride, Fighting and Flamethrowers. So pull up a chair, pour yourself a flaming cocktail, 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 25, 1945. January 25th was a pivotal day in World War II. The war in Europe was entering its final months, and events on both the Western and Eastern fronts signaled the approaching collapse of Nazi Germany. The biggest headline was the official end of the Battle of the Bulge, Germany's last major offensive in the West. After more than five weeks of brutal winter fighting in the Ardennes region of Belgium and Luxembourg, Allied forces had pushed the Germans back to nearly all their original positions. The battle had cost tens of thousands of casualties on both sides and became one of the bloodiest engagements ever fought by American troops. For newspapers and radio listeners in the United States, this was welcome news. The German gamble to split the Allied armies and force negotiated peace had failed. While the Western Allies celebrated victory in the Ardennes, the Red Army was advancing at breathtaking speed in the east. Soviet troops crossed the Oder River in several places and were now little more than 100 miles from Berlin. Major cities had fallen and German defenses were crumbling. The rapid Soviet advance triggered panic throughout Eastern Germany as civilians fled westward ahead of the approaching front. German forces in East Prussia were effectively isolated from the rest of Germany. On January 25th, one of the largest evacuation efforts in history began as German authorities attempted to move soldiers and civilians across the Baltic Sea. Millions would eventually be involved in this desperate operation. As Soviet troops closed in, German forces blew up and abandoned Hitler's famous East Prussian headquarters, the Wolfslayer. The complex had served as a major command center for much of the war, including the site of the failed July 1944 assassination attempt against Hitler. Its deconstruction symbolized the shrinking territory still under Nazi control. Facing disaster, Hitler ordered a major reshuffling of his military commands. Army groups on the Eastern Front were renamed and reorganized, and the newly created Army Group Vistula came under the command of Heinrich Himmler, despite his lack of military experience. Many German officers viewed the move as a sign of Hitler's increasingly desperate decision making. In the Pacific, American forces continued their advance on Luzon. U.S. troops occupied much of Clark Field, one of the most important air bases in the Philippines. Securing the airfield would help support the drive toward Manila and further isolate Japanese forces in the region. American Naval and Air Forces intensified their bombardment of Iwo Jima, softening Japanese defenses ahead of the amphibious assault that would begin less than a month later. Battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and heavy bombers all took part in those attacks. And in other news, the city of Grand Rapids, Michigan, became the first American city to add fluoride to its public water supply, beginning a public health experiment that would later be adopted across much of the country. With a population of just under 200,000, Grand Rapids is the second largest city in Michigan. Detroit, of course, is number one. On the afternoon of January 25, 1945, municipal workers at the Grand Rapids Waterworks began feeding powdered sodium fluoride into a system of basins, hoppers, filters, and tanks. That powder dissolved into the water supply and flowed out to the citizens of Grand Rapids. For nearly a year, Grand Rapids had prepared for this moment. Local children had undergone preliminary examinations, and the local newspaper, the Grand Rapids Herald, boasted about how the fluoride trial would prove fluoride's cavity fighting power. Not everyone shared this view. Weeks before the start of the fluoridation, city officials began receiving complaints about sore gums and peeling tooth enamel after press accounts wrongly informed readers that the trial would begin in early January. The trial continued as planned, with public health service scientists observing a significant decrease in tooth decay among children sooner than they'd expected. The results were deemed so successful that the control city forty miles away, Muskegon, Michigan, demanded fluoridation of its public water. Doing so brought the comparative study, intended to last fifteen years, to an end after only six. But by then communities across the country had begun fluoridating their water, with support from the Public Health Service, Surgeon General, and American Dental Association. In 1951, five million Americans drank from fluoridated supplies. By 1960, that number grew to forty one million. Today, about two hundred and ten million Americans, or about seventy three percent of the population, drink fluoridated water. Despite the success and prevalence of fluoridated water, though, there are still skeptics. Critics have generally raised three types of concerns. First, health concerns. Some researchers and advocacy groups argue that long-term fluoride exposure may be linked to dental fluorosis or a mild discoloration of the teeth, skeletal fluorosis, which is a bone condition associated with much higher fluoride exposure than typical US water levels, and potential effects on thyroid function, bone health, or neurological development. Second is personal choice. Some opponents argue that fluoridation amounts to mass medication without individual consent. They contend that people should decide for themselves whether to use fluoride through toothpaste, mouthwash, or supplements. And finally, government trust. Particularly in the 1950s and Cold War era, fluoridation became entangled with political fears and conspiracy theories. Some groups claimed fluoridation was a form of government control or even a communist plot. These claims lacked credible evidence, but contributed to public resistance in some communities. Today, most major public health and medical organizations continue to support community water fluoridation at recommended levels, concluding that the cavity prevention benefits outweigh known risks. And now the letter. Thursday, January 25th, 1945. My dearest Mary, hello, sweetheart. Guess who? Yep, it's me again. Don't you get tired of reading these screwy letters, especially when they're written as bad as these are? But it's the best I can do while laying on the ground with my pack for a desk. Maybe someday I'll be able to invent a portable desk I can slip in my pack and make it a little easier. Well, there's nothing new I can write about today. Yesterday, Wednesday, we spent chasing ourselves all around a couple of fields until 11 PM last night. Lots of fun. Especially when you sneak up on the enemy thinking you're going to surprise them and all of a sudden, wham, right in your ear, somebody lets loose with a blank. Dead duck, that's me. If we used all live ammo, three quarters of us would never see another day. But as it is, we all survive to learn another day. Today we had quote unquote free time, till eleven AM. So we spent it cleaning our rifles and cleaning up the bivouac area. By order of the CEO, Mother. Someday somebody's gonna knock him off. This afternoon we will learn all about flamethrowers, hot stuff. As yet, I don't know what it's going to be, but it should be interesting and warm. This evening we go back to the infiltration course and crawl under that blankety blank barbed wire in the dark. I'll probably end up with the seat of my pants torn off this time. Last time I only tore my shirt. Here I am again, sweetheart. We just watched the flamethrower in action, and what a weapon it is. You could light a hell of a lot of cigarettes with one of them. My only hope is that I'm never on the wrong end of it. Hell when I die, but I hate to start off with a hot foot like that. Here it is Friday noon and I haven't finished this yet. Shame shame. By golly how they rush us through here, from one thing to another with hardly any time to breathe. Well, last night we went through our infiltration course. What a sight that was. The entire battalion, one thousand men strong, was lined up and we all went through the course in forty five minutes. Imagine if you can, one thousand men crawling seventy five yards in the dark, under wire and live fire. Some fun. Men crawling over each other and pushing everyone out of the way so they can get the hell out of there. The wire was no barrier. Men just rolled over it, under it, and some even got up on hands and knees and damn near walked upright through the machine gun fire. Myself, I crawled across so fast that I left a trail of scorched earth right behind me. As for the wire, well, it just wasn't there as far as I was concerned. When under fire like that, everything but getting out from under it is disregarded. It's surprising how a man can ignore a lot of unpleasantries when he doesn't have time to think of them. After we got back to our tents, we had a little excitement. There is one boy in our squad, damned unpleasant guy, who is always popping off at the wrong time about the wrong things. There isn't anyone in the entire company that likes him the least little bit. So last night while he was fixing his tent, he was jumped by four other men and beaten up pretty badly. He says he knows the men but won't tell who they are, and therefore the sergeant is picking the whole second platoon for all the dirty work as punishment in hopes of catching the four. Somebody knows who they are, but won't talk. I know this, as much as I dislike the guy, if I lay hands on any of the four, they'll regret it very much. And all the rest of the while, boys in the platoon feel the same way. I have an idea who the guilty ones are. They're Japs, but until I'm definitely sure I'm sleeping with my bayonet right handy. It might not be very sharp, but it makes a very noticeable slash. Gosh, I sound bloodthirsty as all hell, don't I? We are out in the field again today and will be until eleven PM again. More patrol problems. I caught an easy job this morning, just sitting on my fanny and guiding the men to the rear area. But I'll probably have to work this afternoon to make up for it. We are eating sea rations again today. So far I've eaten three cams of land stew and enjoyed every bit of it. At least the quality is better than the regular chow. I'm going to try and bring home a sea unit so you'll know just what I'm talking about. We've enjoyed swell weather all this week. The days have been warm and dry and the nights cold enough to make us burrow deep into the blankets. I'm even getting used to sleeping on the cold hard ground, but I'll be plenty happy to get that lumpy mattress back in the barracks. One more night out, tomorrow we start back to camp at 2.15 PM. We're going to speed march back to the camp, and that means we'll make it in about two and a half hours. So by 5 p.m. I'll have a hot shower and shave and beat it over to the barber shop for a haircut, shampoo, and massage. And God knows I need it. My hair is down to here and I look like a dirty blonde my hair is that filthy. After the barber over to the service club and try to get a good meal, and I'll be feeling up to par again. Why I might even go so far as to take in a show if I don't go to sleep after dinner. Sunday I'll spend doing the laundry and cleaning equipment, so I'll have the rest of the week fairly easy. Just one more week and we start shipping out. So within two and a half weeks I ought to be home. Golly, Miss Mutt, you don't know how good it makes me feel to know that soon you'll be in my arms. Then when I pinch myself, I won't wake up and find that it's all a dream. You'll be real and you'll be there. That will be heaven. There's nothing in this world that I want more than to be with you again. To look at you, hold you close, and know that you are mine. I've missed you so much that my heart just jumps up and down at the thought of feeling you close to me again, with your arms around me, your lips on mine, and all my love for you just overwhelming you. And on top of all that, to know that when I wake up in the night, you will be there beside me, and not hundreds of miles away as you are now. Oh golly, Toots, I just feel like jumping up and down for joy. You asked if I have any definite plans. I think I told you that all I want to do is just be with you and the children every minute while I am home. If anyone wants to see me, well, they'll have to wait until I get good and ready. I won't be able to get enough of you in five days, so nothing else matters except that you've got to be with me at all times. I love you so doggone much that you should be able to feel it from here. Can you? Well, darling, there goes the whistle, so I'll sign off now and get this in the mail tonight. Kiss the children from me, and here's all the love in the world. I love you, Johnny. A couple notes from today's letter. Fighting. Fighting among recruits in U.S. Army basic training during World War II was common enough to be a recurring concern for drill instructors and company commanders, but it was generally viewed as an unavoidable byproduct of throwing millions of young men from vastly different backgrounds together under stressful conditions. The typical recruit in 1942 to 45 was living in close quarters with dozens of strangers, often for the first time in his life. Men from rural farms bunked alongside city laborers, college students, factory workers, recent immigrants, and veterans of different social classes. Those close quarters meant tempers could flare over almost anything from exhaustion to competition to regional or ethnic prejudices, and in that era, many of these young recruits had grown up settling disputes physically. Typically, two recruits might exchange punches behind the barracks until other soldiers or a sergeant broke it up. These incidents often resulted in mild discipline such as extra duty, KP, loss of privileges, or a chewing out from the sergeant. Commanders often preferred this type of slap on the wrist, believing that some aggression was natural among young men being trained for combat. They felt that a brief supervised fight might settle the matter better than weeks of simmering hostility. While common, precise statistics are difficult to find because most minor fights were never formally recorded. We must rely on letters and oral histories, with many veterans later recalling there was always somebody getting into it with somebody. The Army became much more concerned when fighting reflected deeper tensions, such as cultural differences between recruits from the North and those from the South, arguments involving ethnic stereotypes, or racially motivated altercations. Experienced drill sergeants understood that unit cohesion was essential. Their goal was not merely to stop fighting, but to redirect aggression toward training. A common philosophy was don't fight each other, save it for the enemy. Grueling physical training, obstacle courses, forced marches, and competitive exercises were all intended to channel recruits' energy into teamwork rather than internal conflict. If there's a silver lining, veterans often remarked that the men they fought with during basic training sometimes became their closest friends later. The shared hardships of training and combat tended to erase many of the grudges that had sparked those early barracks brawls. Also, flamethrowers. One of the most feared weapons of World War II wasn't a rifle, a tank, or an airplane, it was the flamethrower. The idea of projecting fire at an enemy is ancient. Historians often point to the Byzantine Empire's mysterious Greek fire, a combustible liquid used in naval warfare more than a thousand years ago. Since then, armies have employed everything from burning arrows to cauldrons of flaming oil, but the modern flamethrower emerged in the early 20th century. In 1901, German engineer Richard Fiedler began developing practical, portable flamethrowers for military use. His designs were adopted by the German army and first saw widespread combat during World War I. German stormtroops used them to clear trenches and bunkers, creating a terrifying psychological effect that often exceeded their actual battlefield impact. Between the wars, many nations refined the technology. By World War II, flamethrowers had become specialized weapons used against fortifications, caves, pillboxes, and heavily defended positions. The United States developed models such as the M2 flamethrower, carried by a two-man team with tanks of thickened fuel strapped to the operator's back. The weapon proved particularly valuable in the Pacific. Japanese defenders often occupied deeply dug bunkers and cave systems that were difficult to attack with conventional weapons. Marines and army troops used flamethrowers to force defenders from these positions or destroy them outright. Yet, flamethrowers were dangerous for their operators as well. The fuel tanks made them conspicuous targets, and carrying nearly seventy pounds of equipment under fire required extraordinary courage. By the end of the twentieth century, military flamethrowers largely disappeared from frontline service, replaced by more effective and less hazardous incendiary weapons. But during World War II, few battlefield sights inspired more fear than the sudden roar of a flamethrower and a stream of fire reaching toward an enemy position. And for the soldiers who carried them, it was among the most dangerous jobs in the war. Imagine volunteering to walk directly toward a fortified bunker carrying tanks of fuel on your back while every enemy rifleman knew exactly who to shoot first. That's the reality faced by flamethrower operators in 1945. The top song in the U.S. on this date, January 25th, 1945, remains Don't Fence Me In by Bing Crosby and the Andrew Sisters. Since I've shifted to counting down the 100 most popular songs of 1945, though, we now arrive at number 93 on our list, Dick Haymes with the song I Wish I Knew. This is Dick Haym's second appearance in this podcast. I recently covered him a couple weeks ago in my episode titled The Messenger. I Wish I Knew was one of Dick Haymes' signature hits, written by the celebrated songwriting team of Harry Warren and Matt Gordon. The song was featured in the 1945 musical film Diamond Horseshoe, starring Betty Grable and Dick Haimes. Haymes recorded it with an orchestra directed by Victor Young. The song is a classic wartime romantic ballad built around uncertainty and longing. Its narrator wonders whether the person he loves returns his feelings. I wish I knew. As with so many songs I've covered on this podcast, that simple premise gave voice to an emotion many Americans understood in 1945. With millions of servicemen separated from their sweethearts, the song's wistful lyrics captured the anxiety of not knowing what the future might bring, while Haym's smooth baritone delivered the sentiment with warmth rather than despair. Gentle strings open the tune and sustain an easy romantic sentiment throughout. With that backing, Haymes croons his inner monologue, creating an intimacy that feels like a private thought set to music. The song was very well received upon release. Haymes' recording reached number six on the U.S. charts in 1945, making it one of the year's most notable popular songs. Its success came during an extraordinary year for Haymes. In 1945 alone, he placed a string of hits on the charts, including Laura, The More I See You, Till the End of Time, I'll Buy That Dream, and It Might As Well Be Spring. I Wish I Knew helped cement his reputation as one of the leading romantic vocalists of the wartime and immediate post-war era. While it never became as enduring as You'll Never Know or Till the End of Time, it was widely played on radio and fit perfectly into the sentimental mood of 1945. Audiences responded to songs that reflected both hope and uncertainty as the war neared its end, and I Wish I Knew struck that balance beautifully. 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 Tagspaperhearts at gmail.com. And most importantly, if you have a story, anything to do with World War II that you're willing to share on this podcast, please drop me a line and we can make that happen. Until next time,