May 7, 2016 Somewhere over the Atlantic

                                                                                                     Friday (May 5)

My lovely and adorable wife,

Every day that passes serves only to make me more aware of my loss - my longing for you is a constant ache which accompanies me throughout all my waking hours. …. The best way to look at it, I think, is to consider that each passing day is one day nearer our reunion.

We are now en route somewhere in a ship.  The accommodations are just about what I would have expected judging by my previous experience.  The food is considerably better than I expected, however, and we get three meals a day instead of two.  For diversion, I have been reading and playing bridge.  We have had a bridge game every evening and I have found time to read during the daytime.  I wish you were here to be my bridge partner…. I have just finished a book called “Land Below the Wind” by Agnes Keith.  It is an interesting story of a woman’s life in north Borneo and describes several trips she made through the jungle.  She describes the double bed which she and her husband had - it was specially made and measured 6’ 6” by 6’ 6”.  That sounds about what we are looking for but we are both so tall we probably should have one 7’ by 7’.

* * *

When are you going to move into our house [Hancock Point]?  I will never forget that afternoon we had together sitting in the sun on the sun porch and drinking in that glorious view.  I will not forget my favorite chair either.

I love and adore  you,

Bill 

____________________________________________________________________________

                        Maj. Wm. Fenton

                        Excess Officers Co.

                        APO 15244

                        c/o Postmaster

                        New York, NY

                                May 10, 1944

My darling, 

Today the ocean is as calm and flat as a mill pond.  The sun is shining and the water is a deep blue.  It looks very much like the ocean did at Maine during the beautiful days we had up there last summer.  I took advantage of the good weather this morning to play deck tennis.  It is good sport and it is a help to get some fresh air and exercise.

* * *

I keep thinking of what a wonderful time we could have together on this ship if we were making the trip in peacetime.  Some day perhaps we will be able to make an ocean trip together.  I’m sure you would be very  good at deck tennis.  An ocean trip will be another of the many good things we will have to look forward to when this war is over.

We have a daily pool on the length of the ship’s run.  Today I won for the first time.  It was only five dollars but it was a pleasure to win just the same.

* * *

The “Mutiny on the Bounty” book has proved very interesting. So far I have read “Mutiny on the Bounty” and “Pitcairn Island.”  I still have to read “Men Against the Sea.”  They are good adventure stories and serve to while away the time.

I love, worship and adore you.

Your own, 

Bill

Dad wrote one more letter from the ship on May 11 and continuing on May 12, describing a tour of the engine room, writing it’s probably the last letter he’ll be writing  and asking Mom for a “good snapshot of you.  I would like to have one that I could carry around in my pocket book. All I have now is the large picture which is in my small trunk and the little picture we had taken in Boston for 15 cents.  The latter could be improved upon.  I would also like a good one of Billy.  So please get busy with the camera and send me the result.”

Wondering what these men are thinking and feeling on their voyage across the Pond, it appears that there is a bunch of male-bonding going on, with the bridge, tennis, and wagering contests, and then time to while away by escaping to a lifeboat and a deserted island and the story of a mutiny.  Dad imagines how these adventures would be with Mom by his side, a thought process he would use over and over again with his pleasurable experiences, completely disregarding the risks of his situation and the war raging all around him.  On the ocean, there are many risks, not all from German U-boats and torpedoes.  That early in the season sailing in the north Atlantic, you also run the risk of running into icebergs, and the storms can raise huge seas and put everyone to the test.  In fact, as the ship approached England, a storm did hit their area and many of the men became terribly seasick.  Dad proudly proclaimed, "Not me."  To be expected from a boy who grew up in Vineyard Haven sailing  small boats around Vineyard Sound.

And then there are the risks when you arrive, serious and daunting enough to make a trip across the mighty north Atlantic a piece of cake.  He must have wondered how he would stand up in his first combat experience; how Mom would handle raising two children alone if he didn't come back or maybe even worse, if he came back crippled and disabled.  What we can surmise is that he put his faith in God to bring him through.  He had another problem though.  You can see that  from his address and the use of "Excess Officers."  He was not then assigned to any particular artillery group and would be assigned as needed.  He cannot have been happy with that designation and the loneliness that must have followed from his position without a platoon or company or any other group to support him.  There would be no "Easy Company" for him when he hit the beaches on Normandy.  We see hints of that dissatisfaction in his letters even after he arrived in France and was assigned to the XIXth Army Corps Artillery Headquarters.  He wanted to be an integral part of the war effort.  He would become one, but not immediately.  And his success in that endeavor unexpectedly would come from a nonmilitary ability of his.

And for Sugar and me?  Our trip across the Atlantic was a huge contrast to Dad's.  Whereas  his trip took about 6 days, ours took 6 hours and 15 minutes; whereas he had three meals a day, we had two meals in 6 hours; whereas his accommodations were as he expected from prior sea voyages, ours were as expected, extremely cramped like his probably were, but our only foes were TSA in Boston (a breeze this time, if you don't count me getting goosed in the pat-down) and a more difficult time getting through passport control in Paris due to long lines.  After renting a car, we struck out for Giverny with only a map of the Paris environs, and me remembering that the exit was off A13 somewhere.  I left the guidebook in the backpack until, thinking I had gone too far, I had turned around on A13, having gone through the toll booth, pulled over to get the directions from the guidebook, had to go back through the same toll booth going the opposite way, turn around and then come back through the toll booth for the third time.  I'm now quite proficient at going through that one toll booth.  

And even with directions, Giverny is no picnic to find, probably because it's about the size of 1/10 of Otter Creek.  We visited Claude Monet's house and his water lily pond and gardens, and enjoyed ourselves on a warm sunny day.  But we are quickly crashing after only an hour or two of sleep this afternoon and hardly any during the flight.  I don't think I'll be able to stay up for the Kentucky Derby - I'm rooting for Nyquist because he was named after a hockey player from Maine, now playing for the Detroit Red Wings.

Love, Nat, Dad, Matt, et al.

PS  Sugar is sound asleep and didn't have an opportunity to proofread this and I'm too tired.  Please excuse me.