{"id":966,"date":"2014-02-16T05:00:15","date_gmt":"2014-02-16T13:00:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/nickichenwrites.com\/?p=966"},"modified":"2014-02-15T20:45:25","modified_gmt":"2014-02-16T04:45:25","slug":"letters-from-the-attic","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/nickichenwrites.com\/wordpress\/war\/letters-from-the-attic\/","title":{"rendered":"Letters from the Attic"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/h2>\n

Treasures, carefully labeled.<\/b><\/h2>\n
\"Dad,<\/a>

Dad, building a house for Eugene and me, Eugene helping<\/p><\/div>\n

Every house we lived in when I was growing up was built by my dad. And each of them had a good-sized attic, the kind that ran the length of the house and was high enough to walk around in. The perfect place for storing old toys, dolls, books, party dresses, holiday decorations and much, much more\u2014all of it carefully packed and labeled by my mom.<\/p>\n

Years passed. My sister and I left home. My dad passed away.\u00a0 And still my mom climbed the ladder to the attic, adding and subtracting keepsakes, keeping order. Eventually the house became too much for her, and she moved into an apartment. It was up to my sister and me to find new homes for old treasures.\"Dad's<\/a><\/p>\n

One old treasure we kept for ourselves was a box of letters our dad wrote between 1942 and 1945 when he was away at war. By my count, there are 191 letters. Lately I\u2019ve started reading them.<\/p>\n

My dad took part in some very heavy fighting in Italy and France during WWII, but he seldom wrote about it in his letters. If he had, the censors would have blacked it out. So instead, he wrote about the people and houses he saw and the bits of French and Italian he was learning. Mostly, though, he wrote love letters, which is striking to me since my dad was not the type who talked about his feelings.<\/p>\n

Love letters from the front.<\/b><\/h2>\n

Here are a few samples:<\/p>\n

\"Dad's<\/a>\u201cHey, Punkin, do you still love me? Please say you do \u2018cause that\u2019s my main ambition\u2014to be loved by you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYesterday I missed and loved you a lot, but today it\u2019s 24 hours more.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoney, I love you so much that it\u2019s coming out of my shirt sleeves, breaking my shoe laces and busting the buttons off my shirt.\u201d<\/p>\n

A baby and a land mine.<\/b><\/h2>\n

\"Mom's<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The day after I was born, he wrote: \u201cTwenty minutes ago I received a telegram\u2014the best I\u2019ve ever received \u2026 I knew what was in it, but I had an awful time opening it, and I had to read it over 4 times before it would sink in.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Andy<\/a>

Andy Cromarty and his best friend before the siege of Monte Cassino<\/p><\/div>\n

On October 10, 1944, after the usual loving comments, he wrote: \u201cIncidentally, I\u2019m in the hospital for a minor ailment. I was hit by a mine, just enough to put me here for \u2018bout a week, I guess. \u2026 Sure got off easy.\u201d (He didn\u2019t mention that his best friend, who was only a few feet away from him that day, was killed.)<\/p>\n

Gambling on the war\u2019s end.<\/b><\/h2>\n

On March 27, 1945, my dad was hopeful the war would soon be over. \u201cI\u2019ve bet Harry $5 that this war will be over on or before the 4th<\/sup> of July,\u201d he wrote. \u201cSure hope I win. I\u2019ve already lost $10 to him. I bet him it would end last year.\u201d<\/p>\n

He would win that second bet. V-E Day was May 8, 1945.<\/p>\n

For my father-in-law in China, the war wouldn\u2019t be over until August 15, 1945, V-J Day. His letters to his family in Gulangyu China, had to pass through a complicated patchwork of battlefields, disputed territory, and enemy occupied cities before reaching them. I can only assume that every letter that made it through was a great source of joy to my mother-in-law.<\/p>\n

These days we keep in touch with family members by calling, texting, e-mailing and skyping, the advantages of which are obvious. But I wonder, does this mean there will be no more \u201cletters in the attic\u201d for our children to read?<\/p>\n

Do you still write letters? Have you found letters in your attic or basement or closet?<\/p>\n

\"my<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My dad sent 191 letters back from Italy and France during WWII. My mom saved them all in the attic. There were many love letters<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[155,87],"tags":[203,204,199,201,200,205,206,202],"class_list":["post-966","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-family","category-war","tag-keepsakes","tag-land-mine-injury","tag-letters-from-the-attic","tag-letters-from-the-front","tag-love-letters","tag-v-e-day","tag-v-j-day","tag-wwii"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p3Kn1e-fA","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":12201,"url":"https:\/\/nickichenwrites.com\/wordpress\/letters\/fragments-from-the-past-dads-wwii-letters\/","url_meta":{"origin":966,"position":0},"title":"Fragments from the Past: Dad’s WWII Letters","author":"Nicki Chen","date":"March 8, 2026","format":false,"excerpt":"Photo by Brandie Robbins on Pexels.com My sister has been the keeper of Dad\u2019s WWII letters. I didn't read them until a few weeks ago when we were driving north through Skagit Valley on our way to Chuckanut Manor for lunch. On a straight stretch along I-5, Sue reached behind\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "ancestors"","block_context":{"text":"ancestors","link":"https:\/\/nickichenwrites.com\/wordpress\/category\/ancestors\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"tulips field under blue sky","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/nickichenwrites.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/pexels-photo-7419804.jpeg?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/nickichenwrites.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/pexels-photo-7419804.jpeg?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/nickichenwrites.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/pexels-photo-7419804.jpeg?resize=525%2C300&ssl=1 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/nickichenwrites.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/pexels-photo-7419804.jpeg?resize=700%2C400&ssl=1 2x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/nickichenwrites.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/pexels-photo-7419804.jpeg?resize=1050%2C600&ssl=1 3x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/nickichenwrites.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/pexels-photo-7419804.jpeg?resize=1400%2C800&ssl=1 4x"},"classes":[]},{"id":5319,"url":"https:\/\/nickichenwrites.com\/wordpress\/philippines\/the-letters-my-mom-saved\/","url_meta":{"origin":966,"position":1},"title":"The Letters My Mom Saved.","author":"Nicki Chen","date":"July 17, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"\u00a0 When we lived in the Philippines and later in Vanuatu, I wrote letters to my family every week. And every week after my parents read my letters, Mom filed them away. That\u2019s a lot of letters. Let\u2019s see, fifty-two weeks multiplied by twenty-two years \u2026 Hmm. That adds up\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "family"","block_context":{"text":"family","link":"https:\/\/nickichenwrites.com\/wordpress\/category\/family\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"Grandma with T","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/nickichenwrites.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/07\/Grandma-and-T-001-e1467930842919.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":1302,"url":"https:\/\/nickichenwrites.com\/wordpress\/war\/a-certain-kind-of-soldier\/","url_meta":{"origin":966,"position":2},"title":"A Certain Kind of Soldier","author":"Nicki Chen","date":"March 30, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"Two veterans of WWII. My dad was a gentle man, quiet, kind and hard working. He didn\u2019t get into fights, beat his wife or abuse his children. 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