Dog Tags & Paper Hearts
Letters sent from my grandfather to my grandmother during his time in the service (1944-1945), with cultural and historical context.
Dog Tags & Paper Hearts
Time Warp
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It would appear that boot camp is just one frustration after another.
Links:
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
Many Michigan communities had spent decades choosing the time that best fit their local needs, and wartime eliminated that flexibility. 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 Friga, 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, Time Zones, talking through my hat, and an enduring classic. So pull up a chair, calibrate your pocket watch, 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, February 7, 1945. In military news, the war in Europe is entering what feels like its final act, but the fighting is becoming more desperate by the day. In the Pacific, American troops are reclaiming the Philippines street by street, and far from the battlefields, three world leaders are quietly deciding what the post-war world might look like. The biggest headlines are coming from the Eastern Front. Soviet forces have crossed the Oder River in strength, carving out bridgeheads on that western bank just forty miles from Berlin in some sectors. German defenses that once seemed impenetrable are collapsing under relentless Soviet pressure. For many observers, it's becoming increasingly difficult to imagine Nazi Germany surviving much longer. Meanwhile, somewhere on the Crimean coast, President Franklin Roosevelt, Prime Minister Winston Churchill, and Soviet leader Joseph Stalin continue their historic summit at Yalta. The conference has only just been publicly acknowledged, and officials are revealing little beyond the fact that military operations and plans for defeating Germany are being coordinated. Behind those carefully worded statements, however, history is being written. The leaders are discussing not just how to end the war, but how Europe will be divided afterward, what Germany's future will look like, and the framework for a new international organization designed to preserve peace, the future United Nations. Most Americans know only that their leaders are meeting somewhere near the Black Sea. The real consequences of those conversations won't become clear for years. Across the Pacific, General Douglas MacArthur has made his triumphant return to Manila. Just three years after his famous promise, I shall return, MacArthur is back in the Philippine capital alongside advancing American forces. While Japanese troops continue to resist fiercely throughout the city, his return carries enormous symbolic weight for both American soldiers and the Filipino people. American troops continue clearing Japanese defenders from neighborhoods across Manila. Progress is steady but painfully slow. Every block, every bridge, and every government building presents another opportunity for determined Japanese resistance. Civilian casualties are mounting, and entire districts are being devastated as artillery, tanks, and infantry battle through one of the largest urban fights of the Pacific War. For soldiers reading newspapers back home, the headlines make clear that victory in the Pacific will not come cheaply. And another nation joins the war. Paraguay has formally declared war on Germany and Japan. While that declaration will have little direct military impact this late in the conflict, it reflects the growing diplomatic isolation of the Axis powers. As Allied victory appears increasingly inevitable, nations around the world are aligning themselves with the emerging post-war order. And in other news, looking through Johnny's hometown newspaper, I noticed a headline which read Time Change Bill Given House OK. Reading further, I came to discover that the state of Michigan in 1945 did not have a standardized time standard. Complicating things further was the implementation of what was known as wartime, which was essentially a year-round daylight saving time implemented by President Roosevelt on February 9, 1942. For most Americans, wartime simply meant setting the clocks one hour ahead for the duration of World War II. In Michigan, however, that story was much more complicated because the state had already spent decades arguing over which time zone it actually belonged in. By 1945, most Michiganders were living on the Eastern Wartime, but many people still remembered when nearly the entire state had been on Central Time and a small portion of the Western Upper Peninsula remained there. A little history. When the American Railroads adopted Standard Time in 1883, almost all of Michigan was assigned to the Central Time Zone because of its economic ties to Chicago and the Midwest. Now this upset Detroit business leaders who argued that Detroit's economy was becoming increasingly connected to Buffalo, Cleveland, New York, and the eastern manufacturing centers. They also liked the idea of an extra hour of evening daylight. In 1915, Detroit city government voted to move the city to Eastern Time, even though much of the rest of Michigan remained on Central Time. That created an unusual situation where travelers could change time zones simply by driving across parts of southeastern Michigan. Throughout the 1910s and 20s, communities across Michigan chose whichever time best suited their local economy, and this was usually linked to their economic ties to either Detroit or Chicago. Railroads, factories, schools, banks, and newspapers often disagreed about which clocks to follow. In some places, businesses posted two clocks, one for railroad time and another for local time. Train schedules became especially confusing because passengers could encounter different official times within the same state. By the early 1930s, the federal government eventually approved moving nearly all of Michigan into the Eastern Time Zone, leaving only four counties in the western Upper Peninsula on Central Time because of their stronger economic ties to Wisconsin, and that's an arrangement which still exists to this day. As I said earlier, on February 9, 1942, President Franklin Roosevelt instituted year-round daylight saving time, officially called wartime. Everyone simply advanced their clocks one hour. Eastern Standard Time became Eastern Wartime, and Central Standard Time became Central Wartime. This arrangement remained in place until September 30, 1945, and although the federal government required wartime nationwide, not everyone liked it. Many farmers argued that cows didn't care what Congress said. Dairy cattle still needed milking according to the sun rather than the clock, forcing farmers to begin work in what felt like the middle of the night. School buses and milk deliveries sometimes operated on different schedules than farm routines, creating daily headaches. On the other hand, war plants often favored wartime because an extra hour of evening daylight made commuting easier and reduced demand for electric lighting after work. For Michigan's enormous defense industries, including Ford's Willow Run Bomber Plant and Detroit's automobile factories that converted to war production, that additional daylight was viewed as a practical advantage. Conversely, small towns disliked losing local control. Many Michigan communities had spent decades choosing the time that best fit their local needs, and wartime eliminated that flexibility. However, when all was said and done, most people accepted it as another wartime sacrifice, alongside rationing, blackouts, and gasoline restrictions. And now the letter. Wednesday, February seventh, nineteen forty five, eight AM My dearest Mary, good morning, sweetheart. Here I am bright and early to start the day with a smile and a song. Hmm, must be something wrong with me. That isn't the way I feel this morning, but good morning anyway. How do you feel this morning, darling? Same as usual, or just a little bit better, perhaps? I hope it's a little bit better, because I can use some cheering up today. I feel as blue as can be, and there is no prospect of the picture getting any brighter this week. I haven't heard anything about my shipping orders yet, and I'm beginning to think that they are trying to make me a permanent fixture here at Camp Hood. But if they do, they're going to have a fight on their hands. It's bad enough being in the army, but it would be adding insult to injury to try and keep me here. But I'm not talking through my hat. A couple of other boys received their orders last night and are leaving today, so I guess it's just a matter of time till mine come through. I'm not too worried about it, because they'll still have to feed and clothe me, and I still can sleep in a bed at night. I went over to see Bill Monday night, right after I called you. He had just finished his first day's training and he reminded me very much of myself on my first day. All worn out and tired as hell. I stayed up there with him till eleven PM, went over and bought a couple of beers and just talked for a couple of hours. I guess he'll get along okay. He's had ROTC training, so they put out in front as company guides. That is the company flagbearer. Not a bad place to start. He'll get out of a lot of dirty work as long as he holds that spot. Golly it was good to talk to you, even for only five minutes. It lifted my spirits way up, and I felt good all night. What is it that you do to me? I can talk all day long on the phone to anyone else and I don't feel anything at all. But when I hear your voice, thrills and chills go all through me and I tingle all over. How is it going to be when I get home if just your voice has that effect on me? I wonder. Say, Sherry has grown up. Boy, it almost sounded just like a young lady I was talking to. All this time I thought maybe you were just stretching it a little bit, but I can see now that I was mistaken. She can talk as clearly or better as I. I can see that she has grown up quite a bit in the last four months, and I guess Susie is keeping pace with her. She sounded as cute as a bug over the phone. Still a little bit shy yet, isn't she? But she'll get over that soon. Is she still outgrowing Sherry? She must be pretty tall by now. I won't know her when I see her. I hope she remembers me. How is Eva coming along? She must be taking her first steps by now. Probably be able to walk all over me, and don't think I won't let her. In fact, if those brats don't leave me all black and blue, I'll be disappointed. I'm looking forward to a beautiful rough housing when I get there. So be prepared for a real house wrecking. We're going to tear down the roof. Well, honey, I'm going to sign off now. I've got to get to work in a few minutes, and I want to have this letter mailed off right away. We've been kept busy every minute of the day and night. Seems that they were just waiting for us to pile on the work. Don't be afraid to write or send packages. If I don't get them here, they'll follow me to the next camp, so I won't miss out on anything, especially fudge. So goodbye now, darling. I'll write again as soon as I can. I hope I have better news then. Kiss the kids for me, and here's all the love in the world for you. I love you, Johnny. One note from today's letter. Johnny uses the phrase talking through my hat. This is an old English idiom meaning to speak confidently about something you don't actually understand. In modern terms, that would mean to bluff or make things up, or speak nonsense while pretending to be an authority. In 1945, this expression would have been instantly recognizable. It was a common saying in both Britain and the United States, appearing in newspapers, novels, radio comedies, and everyday conversation. But how did this phrase originate? The exact origin is uncertain, but most linguists trace the phrase to Britain in the late 19th century, with the earliest known printed example appearing in the 1988 publication titled Farmer and Henley Slang and its analogues. There are several theories about how it originated. The leading theory is that the phrase is simply an absurd image. Saying someone was talking through his hat suggested that what came out was just as meaningless as speech filtered through a hat. In other words, the phrase was never meant literally, it was just colorful Victorian humor. Another popular theory connects the phrase to courtroom etiquette. In the 19th century, men generally removed their hats when speaking formally or respectfully. Someone who spoke while still wearing his hat might have been seen as rude, ignorant, or not worth listening to. Over time, talking through your hat may have evolved into a metaphor for speaking without proper knowledge or authority. While this theory is plausible, historians haven't found strong evidence linking the idiom directly to courtroom customs. And one final theory claims that the phrase originated in the American West, where cowboys supposedly pulled their hats down over their faces while telling exaggerated stories around the campfire. It's a colorful tale, but it doesn't hold up historically, since the expression was already well established in British publications before the American cowboy became a popular cultural figure. By World War II, talking through his hat was used much the way we'd use phrases such as, he doesn't know what he's talking about, he's bluffing, or he's full of hot air. The phrase was meant as a humorous jab rather than demeaning or hostile. It suggested someone was confidently mistaken rather than intentionally deceitful. The expression survives, but is much less common than it was during the first half of the 20th century. Nowadays, the phrase is most likely to be encountered in journalism and literature, particularly when a writer wants to evoke a slightly old-fashioned or distinctly British tone. The top song in the U.S. on this date, February 7, 1945, remains Don't Fence Me In by Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters. Since I've shifted to counting down the 100 most popular songs of 1945, now we arrive at number 90, and that song is Always by Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians. Although Guy Lombardo's version became a wartime hit in 1945, Always was already a classic by then. The song was written by Irving Berlin in 1925 as a wedding gift for his bride, Ellen McKay. Rather than selling the song, Berlin gave his wife the royalties as a wedding present. That turned out to be a remarkably generous gift considering that Always would become one of the most successful popular songs of the 20th century. Lombardo's recording, featuring vocalist Stuart Foster, gave the nearly 20-year-old standard a fresh, comforting sound for Americans in the closing months of World War II. As with many of the songs we've covered on this podcast, Always is a simple promise of enduring love, with lyrics that pledge unwavering devotion through good times and bad. Not for just an hour, not for just a day, not for just a year, but always. The tune is played in the Lombardo style, warm, gentle, and unhurried, with lush strings, soft brass, and fosters relaxed vocal, creating the atmosphere of a slow dance in a ballroom. It's exactly the kind of recording that servicemen and their sweethearts could imagine listening to together once the war was over. And Lombardo's version became one of the biggest recordings of early 1945. It reached number one on Billboard's Airplay chart, where it remained for 14 weeks, and climbed to number five on the Jukebox chart. This demonstrated popularity both on radio and in public venues. It competed successfully against several other contemporary recordings of the same song, including versions by Sammy Kay, Gordon Jenkins, and Paul Laval. Part of this was timing. By February 1945, millions of Americans had loved ones serving overseas, and songs promising faithfulness and reunion were immensely popular. While Alweys had not been written for wartime, its message fit the national mood perfectly. Couples separated by oceans could easily imagine the lyrics as a promise to one another. Guy Lombardo himself was already one of America's most trusted band leaders. Nicknamed the sweetest music this side of heaven, his orchestra specialized in polished melodic dance music that avoided the flashier swing style of bands like Benny Goodman or Tommy Dorsey. For many listeners, Lombardo represented stability and familiarity during uncertain times. The song has remained in the public consciousness, though not through Lombardo's specific recording. The song has been recorded hundreds of times by artists including Frank Sinatra, Billy Holiday, Patsy Klein, Peggy Lee, Leonard Cohen, and Michael Bublet. It has appeared in films, television programs, and countless wedding playlists, allowing the song itself to endure long after the Big Band era. Guy Lombardo's 1945 recording is remembered mainly by enthusiasts of World War II era popular culture. Unlike his annual New Year's Eve rendition of Old Lang Zine, which remains closely associated with his orchestra, his recording of Always has largely been eclipsed by the song's many later interpretations. The song itself has survived for more than a century because its message of steadfast love never goes out of style. And one note to this song, I have included it on my playlist, but the version available on Spotify does not have the vocals. 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 Tags Paper Hearts at gmail.com. And most importantly, if you have a story from World War II that you'd like to share on this podcast, please drop me a line and we can make that happen. Until next time.