In July 15, 1945 my orders were to prepare to leave within the next two weeks. It had been two years and ten months since I and the others of our "Lucky 13" had found ourselves jammed into the converted E-deck swimming pool of HMS Aquitania as she pulled out of New York Harbor in the blackness of midnight, September 21, 1943.
There had always been the longing and the wonder of home for each one of us, many of us only just out of College. We all shared the idealism and illusions of youth, but we would grow up pretty fast and some of us would become bonded each to each as brothers for life. For me, for each one of us, there would be more than a few of those "moments of intense fear," but never or hardly ever for us in AFS those "moments of intense boredom."
At long last, I would be on orders for the home-leave I had never taken. In this way, I would preserve the option of continued service with AFS in India-Burma depending upon the as yet unknown demobilization and discharge procedures affecting AFS Volunteers subject to draft.
For the next month or so I would be on the move with all my possessions tucked into a British issue back-pack or wrapped into the canvas bed-roll I could sling over my back. I have no letters or even diary notes to prompt my memory of this event of more than a half-century ago as I now write. It is a blur.
We would be following Major Perry and the others who had opened up the aalernative routing by train when shipping became scarce. I do seem to remember bringing along a carefully padded bottle of Johnny Walker black-label to "help out" with the fellows during our travel.
Happily, I can not now remember what must have been as wrenching a separation as any Licia and I had known, with my "little wife" left behind in Naples in the terribly unsettled situation in Italy torn by two years of war and AFS GHQ about to close down. And our separation became even more difficult and extended as Licia would be subject to repeated last-minute cancellations of her authorized travel because of incompetent even unscrupulous action by certain army personnel as outlined in the next section below. Fortunately, I could not have known about this when I left. Fortunately also, John Nettleton continued in Naples until October and was helpful; there were also the Mazzettis in Naples, and Vittorio in Rome.
Our united Allies under the banner of President Roosevelt's "Declaration by United Nations" had won a momentous victory in Italy and Europe.. I had survived to see this day. I would be going to the home and family I adored. I was the only son.
And yet the wife I also adored, who had endured so much during those terrible war years in Italy, would be for the most part alone and in Naples waiting for the next promised sailing with strangers in what would be a crowded and difficult passage. Speaking of "mixed emotions" I must have been torn in two as I boarded that train at the Naples station. There could have been no greater joy for me than to return and in one piece to home and family after almost three years in war, and yet there was no greater worry for me than to have left my "little wife" in the turmoil of post-war Italy.
Two dates stand out in my memory of the month or so of my travel from Naples to Boston and on to our summer home at Hyannis Port. On July 26, 1945 Clement Attlee replaced Winston Churchill as Prime Minister following Britain's general election, and on August 6, 1945 the Enola Gay dropped a 15 kiloton Atomic Bomb on Hiroshima Japan. I was in London on or about July 26; 1 was at sea in the mid-Atlantic August 6. From these momentous dates, I can reconstruct the timing of the travel.
I was "repatriated" from Naples July 21, according to my service record, and stayed on the train all the way to the English Channel. There were at least a dozen of us, but I do not remember any names; it was of course a congenial group of AFS "time-expired men." Continental-style coaches are divided into compartments of six, three facing on each side with racks overhead for baggage. They are open to the corridor that runs the length of one side. Here one can walk up and down or gaze out the windows, and with access to the toilets. At stations one can reach out for a snack, although I believe we pulled to a siding at times for a stretch and a meal.
I remember going through the long tunnel from Italy to Switzerland. Locomotives were steam in those days; we had to "button up" the windows. There were lovely views by day through Switzerland. Paris was announced as we went through or around at night with not even a moment of leave to visit the fabled "city of lights." I believe our Channel port was Le Havre where we had an overnight at a billet to prepare for the choppy Channel crossing.
Our crossing was eventful; it was by means of one of the small amphibious landing craft doubtless left over from the Normandy invasion. These are open to the elements with a blunt hinged nose to discharge on a beach. About a dozen of us were jammed along the gunwales sitting on our bed-rolls as we bounced around in the famed Straits of Dover. There was plenty of wind and spray. My sailor's sea-legs stood me in good stead; others were not so fortunate. We managed to struggle up the steep sides at Folkstone to board the connecting train to London. The neat green fields and hedge-rows of Kent sped by.
Our billets were in downtown London, and we would have several days in this most majestic and traditional of all contemporary cities --- to be taken in tow by delightful guides supplied by the English Speaking Union.
I must have awakened on the morning of July 27, 1945 after the first good sleep in a week. London was in shock. The headlines proclaimed the stunning news that the Labor Party had won the majority of Members of Parliament in the House of Commons. "Clem" Attlee Labor Party leader and "PM" designate, together with Sir Stafford Cripps, "Ernie" Bevin, "An" Bevan and the others of his Cabinet would be summoned by the King to form His Majesty's Government.
The rough-and-tumble labor union organizer Ernest Bevin would replace the polished, aristocratic, handsome Anthony Eden at the Foreign Office. This was shocking enough --- at least for the Conservatives.
What was more shocking for us outsiders as well as for many on the inside, was that Winston Churchill no longer claimed the confidence of the Commons and the time-honored PM office-residence at number 10 Downing Street. England's supreme leader and, together in "special relationship" with Franklin Roosevelt, the leader of the Free World, had been swept from office at the very moment when triumph over the "long shadow" of the German-Japanese Axis was at hand. It was as if the nation he loved and had saved had turned against him at his own "finest hour."
In the "wilderness" of British politics in the 1930's, his was the lone implacable voice against the ever widening Nazi atrocity. He had been summoned to save his country and indeed the free world on May 10, 1940 as the German Blitzkrieg swept into France. In those weeks of greatest peril when the Nazi invaders stood ready to advance across the narrow Channel he summoned England to its "finest hour" in the "Battle of Britain." His voice, his leadership, the heroism of the RAF, the unwavering courage of the English people, the incredible rescue of the British expeditionary force at Dunkirk, and the inspired support by Franklin Roosevelt in spite of the isolationism that gripped America combined to halt for the first time the Nazi juggernaut.
Stopped at the Channel, in the next year Hitler turned to what would be his greatest blunder, his invasion of the Soviet Union June 22, 1941. Here he committed three million troops across a 1,800 mile front. On December 7, 1941 there was an equally determining act when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. And now the final victory for freedom was at hand in the greatest conflagration ever to engulf our planet Earth.
It was not that his people had turned against their beloved "Winnie," but that the Labor agenda seemed to them more appropriate for the new world order to be. It was a victory for democracy. Sir Winston Churchill would be greatly honored by a grateful nation, and at age 77 he would once again be summoned to serve as Prime Minister October 21, 1951.
An immediate consequence of the election was that Clement Attlee would replace Winston Churchill at the critical Potsdam Conference of July 17-August 2, 1945.
At Potsdam just outside Berlin, the leaders of the "Big Three" (Britain, USA, USSR) were meeting to confirm the division of Germany into occupation zones and to focus on the defeat of Japan. Of the original Big Three (Churchill, Roosevelt, Stalin) only Stalin remained. Fortunately, it would not be long before President Harry Truman took his measure. Stalin had already begun to show his hand by maintaining his occupation of Poland. It was during this Conference that the first successful totally secret test of an atom bomb took place, known only to President Truman.
I do remember vividly a day or so of sight-seeing in London. Perhaps it was because our English Speaking Union guide was a distinguished lady of breeding, dignity and some wealth. It was her own chauffeur-driven limousine that picked up four of us. Impeccably dressed she sat center with one of us on each side, the other two on facing jump seats. On the agenda of course was the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, St. Paul's.
Certain that she was as "Tory" as a good Conservative could be and in shock about the election results we remained subdued and carefully avoided any references to current events. She also seemed distant and aloof, even more than the stiff-upper-lip British stereotype. She knew a great deal about London, and shared her knowledge with beautifully articulated diction. But the atmosphere was tense.
Finally it was she who turned to the election results. She carefully presented brief character sketches of the new Cabinet, pausing for a longer account of the new Foreign Minister, "Ernie" Bevin. Speaking in her dignified manner she explained that Bevin was a remarkably strong man, a Union organizer who grew up in the rough-and-tumble of the labor-management strife on the docks and in the coal mines. He had risen to the position of Labor Minister in the coalition War Cabinet. Speaking with a straight face and at the conclusion of her vignette about Bevin she explained "Bevin was so strong that as Labor Minister he managed to put one million women in labor."
At first we couldn't believe our ears: then we all burst out into gales of laughter, she included. She had been putting on an act all along, and she was such a good sport. From that moment on we ditched the museums and each in our British Army battledress took turns as personal escort as she led us on the best "pub-crawling" that a thirsty "yank" could desire. There is no finer institution for the joys of friendship and socializing than the British Pub ---and she knew the best ones.
In the late afternoon of this unique once-in-a-lifetime introduction to the Queen of cities and one of its proudest and most hospitable representatives, we were invited to high-tea --- a meal in itself --- at her town house, one of the loveliest I have ever seen. Alas, I am certain I had jotted down her name and address in order to write a "thank-you" from New England. In the confusion of transit I must have lost it. But I will never forget her and that day which she made so unforgettable for tour weary "time-expired" Americans.
Before leaving London, there was time for a round-trip by train to Bristol and a visit to the home of Alex Turner. Alex and I had never lost touch since Enfidaville and would continue so; however, he had not yet returned from occupation duty in Germany. I was made welcome by his wife Gladys with a cup of authentic English tea and a glimpse of his new baby daughter. Two twin boys would follow. It was a disappointment to miss Alex, but we made up for it when he and Gladys invited Licia and me and our three children for a visit of several days in June 1959.
After London, our small AFS USA-bound contingent continued by train to Liverpool to board one of the tine Canadian Line steamers destination Montreal. I would continue by train from there to Boston. There were hundreds of troops on board, our fellow "yanks" and also our "good friends" the Canadians with whom we had served in Italy. For a sailor like me it was a welcome "cruise" and there would be no more of the submarine dodging antics we had undergone on the way out almost three years before. It must have been early August, and the route across the north Atlantic and then down the St. Lawrence River would take a week or more.
The mood on board was festive. On August 6 midway across one atom bomb from a single plane pulverized Hiroshima with 70,000 killed followed by a second bomb at Nagasaki on August 9 with 40,000 killed. Life on earth would never again be the same. Indeed as the "cold war" began and intensified, the existence of life on the planet was held hostage to atomic "containment." Although the Communist Soviet Union is no more an unstable Russia and rogue states continue to pose the threat of atomic holocaust. We can never rest easy until every atomic warhead is destroyed.
All of us on board were glued to the ship's radio and news. Imperial once mighty Japan could not endure such a weapon. It had been estimated that invasion of the Japanese Islands would involve a million casualties in months of fighting. This was not to be. Those of us on orders for India-Burma in my case to follow a long postponed home-leave believed Japan would soon surrender. On August 8 Stalin launched a massive invasion of Manchuria to pick up the spoils from a prostrate Japan occupying as well south Sakhalin and the Kuril Islands.
On August 15, 1945 Emperor Hirohito in the first public statement by a Japanese monarch broadcast Japanese surrender. Surrender terms based on the Potsdam Proclamation of July 26, 1945 were signed on board USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay September 2, 1945 the official date of V-J Day.
As for me these momentous events were overshadowed by a momentous event of my own, return home. Just one month short of three years had gone by since I had boarded a train at Boston's South Station, my destination AFS NYC and the unknown fates that awaited me thousands of miles from my home. It had all seemed like an eternity. I was not the same young lad with stars in his eyes that I had been when I had said goodbye to Mother and family with a brave hug and kiss.
And so I remember almost nothing, not even the exact date, of getting off the ship, getting on a train, pulling into Boston. It could have been on August 15 at the very moment that Emperor Hirohito announced Japan's surrender, and the peoples of the free world wept with joy. I do have in my possession the front page of the Boston Post dated August 14, 1945 emblazed in huge black letters "WAR IS OVER" and the Boston Herald dated August 15, 1945 in equally huge black letters "JAPAN QUITS WAR ENDS." I might have picked up these papers when passing through the station.
Our family combined the restraint of New England with the enthusiasms of old Italy. For my arrival at the Boston train station there would be no family welcome; this would have to wait until the privacy of home when there would be plenty of hugs Italian-style. Instead I was met by a dear family friend, the "Uncle Harry" of my boyhood days; it was also he who had put me on the train almost three years before.
Harry Brewster had been the chauffeur of the uncle for whom I am named, Charles Pastene who had died in 1937. Since then Harry had become a family member with his room at our summer home in Hyannis Port and a daily commute to the family home at Milton outside Boston the rest of the year. He became an indispensable "handy man" type of fellow for my Mother for work at both houses inside and out, always willing, always cheerful. Each June for a week he and I and my best boyhood friend would drive down to Hyannis Port to open the house for the summer, trim the lawn and bushes and have a jolly good time. In my British army battledress he had trouble picking me out in the crowd, but in a flash it was "old times" for us.
And so there would be one more trip for me before coming home to drive the seventy miles of country roads to Hyannis Port that Harry and I knew so well. I loved the first glimpses of Cape Cod Bay from Plymouth, the excitement of crossing over the Cape Cod Canal and on up the quaint "King's Highway" through Sandwich and Barnstable typical of the lovely Cape Cod towns. Once on Cape Cod there was the unmistakable flavor of the Cape, the freshness, the scent of the salt sea breezes across the scrub pines and the graceful elms lining each "Main Street."
As kids, we had competed to see who could claim the first glimpse of our house. As Harry and I rounded a bend in the road there it was and my heart stopped for a beat or more. It stood on its hill looking west over the trees to glimpses of sea, unchanged as if nothing had happened. "Home was the soldier, home from the war" in British Army uniform with an army pack on his back, and a worn khaki bed-roll flung over it.
My memory is a total blank of getting out of the car, walking up the steps, the first embrace with Mother and Dad and sisters so longed for, so long denied. The emotion must have been too strong for the memory to retain. Dad was the sweetest of men, proud of our Edwards family heritage going back to the earliest days of Massachusetts Bay Colony. I had followed in his footsteps to Bowdoin College.
It was Mother above who had sustained me in her constant letters and in her response to my replies. Had she not saved all of this I could not have written this story. The letters and the packages she organized made an enormous difference for me.
Our voluminous correspondence, Mother and son, covered all of my experiences, my reflections upon them, and my agonizing postponements of homeleave which she had accepted with wise counsel and understanding. She had kept me posted about her service on the home front and on all family happenings. When the belated news of my unexpected wedding reached her and the family, some weeks after the event, she welcomed Licia with open arms and unquestioning love. She maintained a flow of essential and life-sustaining packages for Licia and her family during the balance of the war and on.
Even if I could remember the details of when Mother and I first embraced, I would be unable to find words to describe them.
The emotion of embracing my twin sister once more must have been equally strong.. My elder sister (by five years) and my younger sister (also by five years) were also close. In addition to immediate family, the spacious summer home was always filled with others and my home-coming was no exception. Dad's sister from Los Angeles and Mother's sister from near-by Newton and husband were also in the welcoming party, which made it all the more festive.
I was soon installed in my former room on the south side of the lofty paneled third story. From here I had unobstructed views of Nantucket Sound from the south and the west. That storied island of whaling legend lay tantalizingly hidden across the horizon.
I confess that my first few days were given over to eating as much as I could get of Mother's home cooking, basking upon the beach, and sleeping as many hours as I could get away with. However, there were things to be done such as giving Harry a hand on the lawn, helping a friend restore an old house; I even dug and installed a third septic tank for the house. Since the digging on Cape Cod involves sand it wasn't difficult, and only whetted my appetite for more home-cooking. Mother always joked that I had a "hollow leg" and after three years mostly on British Army rations I believe that both legs were hollow. After all, I was on home-leave.
The leave would soon run out and there would be an encounter with Mr. Pierce and the Draft Board of Milton Massachusetts. It had been Mr. Pierce who in effect brought me on board with the American Field Service in 1942. After my almost three years overseas under the command of Col. Ralph Richmond, a friend and neighbor of Mr. Pierce in Milton, I could not believe that Mr. Pierce would induct me; however, as a proper Bostonian he would carry out the law.
Selective Service was still in force. John Harmon, my associate and friend at AFS 567 Company HO, had returned from Germany, only to be inducted into the army by his Draft Board. He was held at Fort Dix for about ten days where he showed his service record to the Commanding Officer who then released him.
Fortunately our "D-G" Mr. Galatti had once more performed his magic at the highest levels, this time for the benefit of those of us who might have been subject to the draft still in effect. On August 18, 1945 I received the following communication addressed from "Stephen Galatti, Director General, American Field Service 60 Beaver Street, New York 4, N.Y:"
You will be glad to know that General Hershey signed to-day Amendment 622-17 which provides that members of the American Field Service can be classified I G (discharge from an Allied Army) if the local draft board determines that points are adequate.
You must contact your boards personally with your service record.
Good news!
Sincerely yours,
Stephen Galatti (signed)
In another order dated September 12, 1945 General Vandegrift Commandant of the Marine Corps stated that for those in Class I-G (discharge from an Allied Army) "the U S Marine Corps recognizes, and counts in computation of points towards demobilization, service in the American Field Service."
Copies of my service record (British Army Form B. 103-11) were sent to me with dates and postings and awards. In my letter home dated June 29 and quoted above (p. 32) I had done a calculation of my "points" American Army fashion and British Army fashion, Either way, I determined that I had accumulated 84 points to May 12, 1945; this was more than the 80 said to be required by the War Department for discharge which was granted when one's Draft Board concurred in the I-G classification.
Mr. Pierce and his Draft Board agreed that I should be discharged. I received from them the following notice dated September 28, 1945: "Action on Charles P. Edwards; Local Board No. 108, Norfolk County, Cunningham School, Milton, order No. 1418, classified in class I-G." My services in or related to the armed forces were over. I also received notices from AFS New York of the following awards: Africa Star, and Eighth Army clasp to Africa Star; also the 1939-45 Star, and the Italy Star.
During those final two weeks of August there was one more piece of unfinished business to which I had committed myself. This was to host a reunion of the Platoon at the family summer home Hyannis Port, a "Fox Hall" worthy of my heroic AFS buddies. Mother and Dad agreed, and my sisters pitched in to help out.
This would be the first post-war reunion of our extended "Lucky 13" fraternity which now embraced the entire Platoon. We had talked about doing it, and now it was at hand. I sent out invitations for the approaching Labor Day holiday weekend.
With the exception of George Collins who had remained in Europe with UNRRA, all had returned, some to civilian life and work, others to graduate schools. There were twelve then living at or near Boston and New York who could make it. Six of us of the twelve at this first reunion had been together since our "Lucky 13" of ME Unit 26 had been formed by our chance assignment to E-deck HMS Aquitania when we had been the last to board. These six were "Jock" Cobb, Art Ecclestone, Chan Keller, John Leinbach, Jay Nierenberg and me. Others of later Units who joined with us at the reunion were Tom Barbour, Bob Blair, Sterling Grumman, Tom Hale, Clarence Reynolds. We were all bonded members of C Platoon, 567 Company AFS.
I met the fellows on the Cape Cod side of the Bourne bridge across the Cape Cod Canal. As in the "old days" we formed a convoy for the drive to Hyannis Port. I have written an account of this first of successive C Platoon reunions down through the years; it is on the concluding pages 39-41 of the Front Matter. I call it "Epilogue --- First C Platoon Reunion, Labor Day Weekend 1945."
In this respect our celebration. of the ending of the war, was also a new beginning. We would disperse to take up our civilian lives, but we would never separate. The Annex, Part XII, includes a list of our reunions with dates and places. There would be two more at Hyannis Port, another at Vineyard Haven also Cape Cod.
By late August, considering the I-G classification accorded AFS and the number of points I had accumulated, I was confident I would be discharged. This was confirmed by the action and notice of my Draft Board. I was now free to consider future career possibilities. This had become even more critical for me; there would be two of us, and we hoped we could start a family.
My motivation to serve world peace after the war had been tested by my experiences during the war. My fellow soldiers of the many nations with whom we of AFS had served universally fought for freedom and a better world where peace with justice would prevail. The disclosure of the two atomic bombs at the end of the war made this a necessity.
The glorious feeling of what peace was like and the euphoria of the great victories achieved against Germany and Japan further served to strengthen my resolve. Another factor was one of the most imaginative and far-reaching pieces of legislation by the Truman administration, indeed by any administration of our nation's history, the so-called "GI Bill." The GI Bill was the answer to the problem of three million demobilized service-men threatening to flood and overwhelm an American market in transition from war to peace-time production.
Thanks to the GI Bill, a college education had become a reality for millions of young Americans for whom it had been an impossible dream. Their lives would be transformed, and America's bright promise assured.
Veterans flocked to our colleges and graduate schools in droves. Having completed my undergraduate degree at Bowdoin College in 1941, I had postponed graduate school in the uncertainties of that time. Now I would have the opportunity. Although it turned out that we AFS veterans were denied GI Bill benefits, this made it more difficult but did not deter my resolve.
The graduate school of my choice was the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, premier training ground for a career in foreign service. On the campus of Tufts University and in academic integration with Harvard University, it had been established by initiatives of Dean Roscoe Pound of the Harvard Law School and President Cousins of Tufts as the first American graduate school for Foreign Service. Its growth and preeminence has continued to this day. Furthermore Licia would need some time in Milton with Mother to adjust and to recover from the malnutrition and stress of the war years. The Fletcher campus was not far from Milton.
On one of those mellow days of New England "Indian Summer" in September when the leaves have begun to turn and there is quiet warmth and calm before winter's chill, I reported to the office of Fletcher's Dean Robert Stewart for interview and to complete application formalities. I was admitted. Dean Stewart would become for me a principal mentor, also a dear friend. My Fletcher training determined my career choices as a "foot-soldier for Peace," both as Director of Political Studies at Westminster College and as a US Foreign Service Officer working with the developing countries of Africa. I was also active at the local level in world-wide AFS Intercultural Programs which we Drivers initiated in 1946 under the leadership of our beloved Director-General Stephen Galatti, first President of AFS Intercultural after the war.
During these few weeks in August 1945 my home-coming had coincided with the ecstasy and high hopes of victory, our Allied victory in the most titanic of world wars against the greatest tyranny our world has ever known. I had played a small part in this. My generation, the "GI Generation" of this war and victory, would be hailed as the greatest generation" by no less authority than Tom Brokaw of NBC News.
These should have been the most ecstatic days of my life, any life; however, my joy was muted. One salient factor held my heart and head as in a vice. My "little wife" who I adored had been left without me at her side in the turmoil of Naples port. Worse, her authorized travel orders were being repeatedly blocked in heartless and unscrupulous ways. The story of how we worked through this most difficult separation follows and with the happiest of endings. Licia would be with me once more, and in the bosom of her new American family (my own) on the loveliest day of the year, December 25, 1945. That was almost 55 years ago as I write.
"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," or so it is said. Perhaps this is why the love of Licia Sargiacomo and Charles Edwards before and since our marriage on August 3, 1944 had multiplied with each passing day. Sadly, we could not celebrate the first anniversary of our wedding. On that day Licia was still in Naples and Charles was on a ship "somewhere" in the North Atlantic.
August 3, 1944 had been a magical story-book wedding in Lanciano when with our dearest friends and Licia's family we had for "one shining moment" closed the book on war. And now with the Licia (my mogliatina "little wife") stranded in Naples and with me (her "Carlo") thousands of miles distant in America, our love expanded exponentially as also did our worry and our pain.
As a young couple who had found each other in love and married in time of war only to be torn apart again and again, we had experienced a gamut of emotions from ecstasy to despair that few in fact or fiction could know. We had come through it and our love had deepened. Fortunately we humans preserve the bright memories and we set aside the darker ones as time goes by.
All too often we take for granted the life and the love that it is possible for us to know and nurture and share; is this not perhaps an unmerited gift of God? And is it not an irony of our lives when that which we cherish most we appreciate least until it is gone and it is too late to make amends.
After the previous year, Licia and I had not expected another roller-coaster ride of emotions as difficult or worse than we had already known. Although the risks of war were over, we now faced not only delays to be expected but also the incompetence of petty individuals in positions of some authority and worse, the corruption of persons exploiting temporary power for their own selfish ends and at the expense of another. And it was not until December first, 1945 that we had broken through it all and Licia had taken her rightful place on a ship bound for the United States.
I do not have copies of the letters I wrote to Licia during those four months of separation August through November. I have copies of her letters to me, of a touching letter from her (and our) brother Vittorio, and of the four cables Licia sent. Through it all Licia revealed her despair, but also such strength and love that was perhaps even more than Vittorio knew she possessed; and she counseled me to keep strong.
She expressed her love for me in her letters with words more beautiful than any love sonnet by any poet, her love given to me with such tenderness and faith and inspiration, a love beyond anything I could merit. It is said that a true marriage is made in heaven. Our marriage was beyond any marriage heaven could conceive or contain.
These were the circumstances Licia had faced in Naples initially with me, then on her own.
First there were formalities to conclude; our being together in Naples helped. Before obtaining travel orders Licia had to secure an Italian passport, medical certificate, security clearance, photographs, authorization for booking on an Army ship, Department of Justice quota-exemption, American Army certificate that she was "wife of an American soldier." Mr. Henry Granata, Vice Consul was helpful to direct us through the procedures which involved Army Command, port authority, security; the Consulate itself as well as contacts at the American Red Cross.
In all of this I stated that I was an "American Field Service Volunteer," and in each case the officer or person in command certified to Licia's status as "wife of an American soldier." This was done, for example, by Major Langley officer-in-charge at 8th Port, Naples, PBS (Peninsula Base Section). I had gone to his office in person where bookings for Army ships were made. The visa could not be issued by the Consulate in the absence of this certification. I emphasize this because in the most flagrant cases when Licia had been denied a sailing or ruled ineligible for a certain service an excuse given was that she was not the wife of an American soldier.
I had written ( May 2) that on our rounds with Mr. Granata he had received and found all Licia's papers to be in order and had requested the" travel orders" from Army authority PBS to complete the process for visa. He notified us that Licia was number 19 on the list of travel orders for the first 20 wives and her visa granted.
Sailing on an army ship for the 20 wives was promised for June 25. With all the factors involved and the added uncertainties of demobilization after the war, we should have know there would be complications. However, we were confident she would leave and ahead of me. I wrote home for family to look for her under the "E's" on the dock. This was on May 18 when she went for a week's visit to Lanciano to say goodbye and to pack her priceless hand-sewn things in the two trunks authorized for transport.
We had completed preparing baggage tags for the trunks when we were notified on or about June 20 that the Army had "changed its mind" --- there would be no places for the wives of American soldiers on the June 25 sailing. Given the end of the war and demobilization of thousands of troops this was understandable, but it was a shock after our hopes and preparations with the added possibility that Licia would be left alone in Naples. But the trunks were shipped.
Mr. Granata eased our worries with promise of another sailing in late August or September, this one would be under authority of the Department of State. Mr. Granata proved to be a concerned friend and contact for Licia after I had left (July 21) as did Consul George Brandt.
It was significant that the Army had relinquished responsibility for transport of Licia and the other 19 wives of American soldiers with travel orders and visas. This was now assumed by the State Department, assisted by the American Red Cross overseas. There had been thousands of American citizens, some war widows, some with children, many with families in America; they had been stranded in Italy and elsewhere during the war. State Department had chartered the Swedish ship Gripsholm on a humanitarian mission of "rescue" if you will after the war, and it would be on the Gripsholm that Licia herself was eventually "rescued."
Her letters to me reflected her skepticism, but also her hopes in this new development. We would have to meet the cost charged by the State Department for her passage, a nominal $300, but it was more than worth it. She prepared for the late August sailing on the Gripsholm.
Although I had left her alone, I had left her in good hands. There was always ever faithful and rock-solid Vittorio at #11 Belotti-Bon Rome. In Naples "our" room with the Mazzettis was available for Licia when having to stand-by for a sailing. To be sure, the American Red Cross had provided for the wives rooms in a low-cost hotel and rooming-house in downtown Naples with meals at an enlisted man's mess. On inspection before leaving I had determined that this was not the place for Licia, apparently the other wives had no alternative.
Of major comfort for me and for Licia were our fellows of AFS. Major John Nettleton, Commanding Officer AFS GHQ had kept a skeleton staff going at AFS until early October. They were an essential link for our correspondence, for packages for Licia, cable traffic if needed; they also provided occasional transport for Licia to Rome and return. And it was John who helped identify and eliminate at AFHO Caserta unscrupulous road-blocks to her travel by certain Army personnel.
Taking advantage of the generosity of our AFS fellows at HQ, Licia went up to Rome for a week's visit prior to the promised late August sailing. I received a "Dear Fox" letter about this signed "Alan" from one of the fellows, Alan Potter, ME Unit 41, a fellow "Yankee" from Maine:
Licia left today, the 10th (August) for Rome. She is not too confident about going on the Gripsholm. If she does not, I will be taking her up to Rome again in about three weeks ---when I go to Florence on leave. Today she is going with Steff Cole (ME 33) and Bob Orton (ME 1). There seems to be not much else in the way of news. Phillips, Ritter and Bob Simpson go off to you tomorrow on a Liberty.
Bob Orton, from Cincinnati, was an especially close fellow of C Platoon. His last post, as our AFS Liaison Officer in Florence, had brought him through Rome and #11 Belotti-Bon on more than one occasion.
The promised Gripsholm sailing did in fact materialize, although it had been postponed to September 10, 1945. Licia's foreboding and skepticism after the June 25 disappointment was warranted, but in a way neither of us could have foreseen. She was not on board Gripsholm. She was the only one of the 20 wives with long-standing travel orders who did not sail.
She received a call from the American Red Cross to explain that she could not sail because as "wife of an AFS Volunteer" she was not "wife of an American soldier." Instead, a "Mrs. Francis," allegedly wife (or girl-friend) of an American officer, had taken her place.
This was a flagrant and corrupt abuse of power by an officer of the United States Army. Her status as "wife of an American soldier" who was also an "AFS Volunteer" had long been established and at the highest levels of Army Headquarters, Army Port authority, the U.S. Consulate and the other agencies involved in her clearances. Furthermore the Army had no authority over the Gripsholm passenger list which was a State Department responsibility. This had been in short a transparent excuse committed at the last instant before there had been time to correct it.
One can only imagine the shock to Licia so unjustly discriminated against so far from home and families and when her travel to her new home in America (and the arms of her husband) had at last been assured. Her joy had been turned into ashes. This was more than any person could take. Even worse, there was the implication of an indefinite wait for her until commercial travel was restored. Also the well-meaning but misinformed Red Cross representative had apparently accepted the charge that she was not the wife of an American soldier and therefore not qualified for any of the ARC services in Naples. With our AFS/HQ closing down, this would have been a crushing blow.
Her letters reflect the despair, depression, shock of those moments, but also her courage and resolve, and her confirmation of our love that would see us through. Clearly, it had been a shock for me too.
At the outset Licia went to our Commanding Officer John Nettleton who, together with her, went to his counterpart at Army Force Command, Caserta. Her status as "wife of an American soldier" was at once reconfirmed at the highest level. In the process of John's inquiry, it had been revealed that a certain Col. Christberry of the G.1 cadre AFHQ, had somehow managed the conspiracy to remove Licia's name from the passenger list probably, I assume, in collusion with an officer at the port. I am not aware of any disciplinary action or reprimand that might have been taken.
The principal issue was to have her reinstated for the next sailing of Gripsholm, and this would also involve the State Department in Washington and the American Red Cross in Naples which had been given a role in preparing departure lists.
Secondly, on September 24 Licia dispatched the following cable to me:
GOING ROME SEND LETTERS PACKAGES ROBERT ORTON MY DEPARTURE DEPENDS STATE DEPARTMENT DO SOMETHING.
Having obtained the facts thanks to John's initiative and Licia's letters, I immediately went to Washington. At the Senate Office Building I had conferences with Senators Wallace White and Owen Brewster of the Armed Services Committee. As I recall, Owen Brewster was the popular and influential Chairman of this Committee. The fact that we were both graduates of Bowdoin College, and that he had known of my father hadn't hurt my cause as well as the distinguished war record achieved by AFS. I am sure they put a stop to any more tampering with Licia's status.
At the State Department I met with Mrs. Carol K. Parran, Special War Problems Division (room 2155). The Department by now had taken over the former Henry Stimson War Department building upon which had been grafted State's magnificent gleaming white extension where I would have my own office one day.
Mrs. Parran proved to be a decisive no-nonsense administrator who at once assured me that Licia would be on the next sailing of Gripsholm anticipated for November 13 when this vessel of mercy returned to Naples. She also immediately confirmed my understanding that Gripsholm and its passengers were the responsibility of and under the authority of the State Department, and that the Army had no right or business to interfere in sailings.
In the process and before I had completed my conferences and prepared a detailed report for all concerned parties, Licia had advised me of another road-block to her hoped for departure on the next sailing. The American Red Cross, which was taking care of the wives and had been authorized by the State Department to establish priorities for preparing the passenger lists, had issued a "greatest need" directive that wives not able to return home and with children or expecting a child would have first consideration. Since Licia did not qualify on the last two accounts, she anticipated another long delay and with good humor urged that I come to Naples so she could satisfy the "expecting child" requirement.
I prepared a 10-page report dated September 30. This was based on the facts as revealed by Major Nettleton and which included my conferences in Washington. The "Subject" of my report was as follows:
History of the series of events in which the Italian wife of an American soldier, Mrs. Charles P. Edwards, was three times struck off the passenger list of the State Department ship Gripsholm , and finally refused transport to the United States promised her by the United States Consulate Naples.
This report was addressed to Ms. Margaret Templeman, Director of the American Red Cross Field Office, Area No. 1 Naples. I prepared copies for Senator Owen Brewster, Senator Wallace White, United States Consul in Naples George Brandt, and Mrs. Carol K. Parran Special War Problems Division Department of State.
I also sent cables to Ms. Templeman, Consul Brandt, Vice-Consul Granata.
I outlined Licia's early and complete documentation through receiving her visa as well as her certification by the highest authorities as "wife of an American soldier," reiterating that she had been one of the first 20 listed for sailing. I told of the shock she had undergone as the only one of the 20 removed from the passenger list and of the heartless and unscrupulous way this had been done.
I recounted the sorry business of a "Mrs. Francis" and her alleged sponsor, the shadowy "Col. Christberry," that finally managed to get her "bumped" off the boat at the last instant although the Army had no authority with regard to Gripsholm .
With regard to the "greatest need" criterion for wives, I had written in my report that "I wish to enlarge upon consideration with regard to assigning my wife the highest possible priority for passage to the States." I doubted if any of the wives with children or with child had experienced the trauma and the malnutrition that had been Licia's during the past two years. In point of fact also, several of the wives of the initial 20 which had included Licia did not have children and were not expecting.
To make this point, I summarized Licia's experiences over the previous two years as narrated in separate Parts of this story. I explained that Licia's home town was Lanciano northeast of Naples across the high Apennines difficult at that time to reach from Naples and that in fact her home had been destroyed.
I explained further that Lanciano on the Adriatic had been only a few miles south of the German Gustav Line and had been in the center of one of the great battles of the war in Italy; it had been fought through and also subject to bombings from the air and shell-fire from the ground for a period of nine months. On October 6, 1943 the people of Lanciano, the first city in Italy to rise up against the Nazis, had been subject to reprisals and given three days to take what the could carry and walk to the north leaving their city to pillage. Her older brothers in hiding with the Partisans, she and the others had been caught out in the crude shelter of farms in "no-man's land" as our Allied forces advanced through to the Gustav Line, leaving the city under siege. When she had returned to their home it was a pile of rubble.
During the long siege of Lanciano until we finally broke through the Gustav Line in June 1944, she was a volunteer at the Refugee Center for the many victims of the war. Friends near to her had been wounded or killed during bombings of the city. She had been commended for her service by the Commanding Officer of the Allied Military Government.
I noted that although we married in August 1944, we had been separated most of the time until I had been posted to Naples in April 1945. Up until then while I was in north Italy, Licia in Rome had volunteered at the American Red Cross Club for which she had been commended by the Director. I left Naples in mid-July under orders for the United States, leaving her alone once more.
It had been a history of almost two years of the extreme stress of long separations as well as the trauma, hardships and multiple shortages imposed by the war including exposure to shells and bombs. Through it all she had performed worthy services with courage and disregard at times for her own safety. There could be no greater need" than hers.
In my exposition of the flagrant injustice committed and the shocks upon her I had not minced my words:
From the series of fantastic shocks to my wife's morale and spirit ... in which she was three different times in so many days finally removed from the passenger list of the Gripsholm where she had been placed originally by the United States Consulate, it is clear that the nervous and mental condition resulting must make it imperative to assure my wife of the most speedy and sure means of getting to this country.
My wife and I understand that mistakes and misunderstandings are bound to occur ... My wife and I do not expect special consideration and I am not asking for it. I am writing with all emphasis and taking my stand with highest authority because I feel that a great injustice has been done which can not be excused as a "mistake" or as a "misunderstanding." I am most deeply concerned because I feel my wife's health has been sacrificed in the series of events as described by me in this report. She has sustained great shocks to her nervous system. She has little food, and I am trying to send medicines and vitamins to her of which she is in serious need. When she was promised passage to America in April 1945 what few winter clothes she had salvaged from her home she gave to family and friends. She has no winter clothing, she is living out of a small trunk and suit-case; she is faced with winter in Italy and a stormy, wintry sea-voyage to America. She has been given over to doubts and despair.
In a long letter dated September 11 written just after she had been taken off the passenger list , the joy of departure for America had been replaced by the shock of the cavalier way her long promised departure had been taken from her. Even worse was the disillusionment of broken promises and the fear of an indefinite separation from me because of the sudden and unlawful denial of her status as "wife of an American soldier" as well as the arbitrary invocation of the "greatest need" rule.
In a letter to me dated October 10, 1945 Vittorio echoed the sense of shock and injustice, and the fear of an indefinite delay that Licia had experienced during that "brutal September" (his words). He had been deeply concerned about her depression, but also marveled at her strength --- and the depths of her love for me.
It was this strength that had brought her to our AFS Commanding Officer John Nettleton and with John to the American Armed Forces Command at Caserta. Here the corruption that had taken place combined with the fabrication that she was not the wife of an American soldier had been revealed.
It was her strength reflected in her cable to me of September 24 "Going to Rome ... Departure Depends from State Department Do Something" that touched off my conferences in Washington. I had indeed "done something" following such a command!
By October 10, when Vittorio wrote to me, I had completed my mission to Washington and my report and sent the cables. I had been given and transmitted the iron-clad promise by Mrs. Carol Parran of the State Department's Special War Problems Division that Licia Edwards would be on the next sailing of Gripsholm from Naples estimated for November 13, 1945. She was now safely beyond the reach of more tamperings or corruption on the Naples side.
Vittorio. the proudest and most gallant of men, had written in his October 10 letter that he was "proud" of me for my Washington mission. He had also stated that the "injustices" by certain American officers at Caserta had not surprised him; he had seen plenty of that in Italy. After all, he had written, "tutto il mondo e paese " which translates into English "all the world is the same." This expression is often used by the realistic Italians.
Although far from me, Licia had not been entirely alone in Naples most importantly during that "brutal September." Our friends the Mazzettis had provided the hospitality of lodging and the comfort of their concern.
AFS had also provided a safe haven for Licia with friends and invaluable services such as access to APO mail service and transport to and from Rome. It was Major John Nettleton in his capacity as AFS Commanding Officer who had gone with her to register her protest with his counterpart at AFHQ Caserta and to obtain the facts. AFS had stood by for her ever since my departure from Naples July 21 up until John Nettleton had completed the closing of the American Field Service Headquarters Naples Italy October 6, 1945.
And there was always Vittorio and Rome. In late September Licia had gone up to Rome to wait for developments and to be with her Mother and brothers at Vittorio's villa #11 Belotti-Bon that we and most of C Platoon had known so well.
During the final days of the long and heroic AFS presence in Italy 1943-1945, Alan Potter had written another "Dear Fox" letter to me about Licia and AFS:
Dear Fox,
Just a note on this. Things are going very well around these parts. Nearly everyone, with the exception of John (Nettleton) and Thorne (Thornton Young, ME Unit 37) and myself is either booked on a ship,. or awaiting with hope in his heart. I am neither booked nor waiting with hope. Alakeefisc (?) is I believe the word.
We have seen quite a lot of Licia. She has been over to dinner a couple of times, and restored our self-respect, civilized habits, and general faith in humanity. I congratulate you on such a charming wife.
I really must stop now. Things are cracking.
All the best,
Alan [ signed)
On October 6, 1945 virtually two years to the day since two American Field Service Ambulance Car Companies were landing at Taranto to enter full swing in all the battles of the two-year Italian "second front" John Nettleton closed the door on AFS/GHQ Central Mediterranean Forces. Ever since he with ME Unit 1 had reached Cairo a month or so after the Japanese attack at Pearl Harbor he had done everything and more that an AFS Driver and Officer could do and done it well. As the "captain of the ship" he had been the last of the "time-expired men" to catch a "troop ship" for home.
During the events in Italy affecting Licia in that "brutal September" (Vittorio's words) my family and my new-found friends at the Fletcher School had agonized with me, and they followed closely with me our eventual success in getting Licia back on the Gripsholm. and bound for New York. I am sure Fletcher's Dean Robert Stewart had helped open doors for me at the State Department where he had been a senior Foreign Service Officer.
With Mrs. Parran's assurances for the November 13 sailing, Licia's fears of indefinite delays had been eased. In a radiant letter dated October 29 she exclaimed "only 15 days left until departure" (translation mine). She told me not to worry; all she had to prepare was a small trunk and suit-case; she would be going down to Naples soon. She wrote how terrible was "l'attesa!" [the waiting) and she brought tears to my eyes with the concluding so wonderfully loving words of her letter that I was "her life."
In this letter (October 29) she had confessed that in a dream she had been afraid she would not merit the love and affection of my Mother, Dad and sisters when in America.
Now that at long last the uncertainties of departure seemed to have been resolved, she must have experienced the understandable concern about joining a new family in a new world so remote from her own. Perhaps this and the stress she had endured had touched off her bad dream. The worry as expressed in her dream was totally groundless. Indeed, she had already captivated the hearts of my family.
On September 2, 1944 as soon as the delayed news of our marriage (August 3, 1944) had arrived, Mother initiated a series of letters to Licia as well as the flow of essential goods for her and her family that continued well after the war. Mother's first letter was written in English because at that time writing in Italian was contrary to military regulations. Nevertheless, Mother had begun in Italian "Cara figlia Licia (Dear daughter Licia):
I wish I could express to you the happiness of the whole family last Thursday when we received five letters from Charles and you telling us about your wedding and your happy days ... my heart is overflowing with the thankfulness to our dear God that, out of war, Charles has found such a loving and lovely wife. Your words were so wise and so loving to us all: to Dad, to your three new sisters, and to me. Each one of us is eager to know you; we feel we are already learning to love you, and we want an opportunity to earn your love for ourselves ... Whenever it may be a loving welcome will be waiting for you ... My greetings to your dear family --- my love to you. Un bacio da tua Madre Edwards.
My twin sister also wrote, September 7, 1944:
It was a tremendous thrill to me to find your very sweet note in Charles' last letter ... And I am so very happy that Charles has you and you have him .... we have always been very close to each other being twins. But I am very very happy that he has someone now as wonderful and sweet as you. For I too have grown to know you in his and your letters and to love you already as my other sister. (Licia and Betty would become as close as any two sisters can be) .... It must be terrible to see one's country ravaged by war and one's country-men killed. We all hope that the war will soon be over and the world can start rebuilding itself ... My very best wishes for all happiness ... with lots of love, Betty.
I had no doubt that as soon as my family would meet and know my "little wife" they would be captivated by he., as I had been, and it was so.
For the time being, Licia would stay on in Rome until notified to report to the Consulate in Naples to prepare for boarding procedures.
Apparently Bob Orton had stayed on in Rome, and was helpful with the mails. Her last letter to me was dated November 5 when she had telephoned to" Mr. Granata" at the Consulate who had become a good friend. She learned from him that Gripsholm had in fact arrived, but that there would be a delay before this work-horse of mercy for the many civilians still stranded in Italy would be ready for the return voyage.
Licia wrote that family, relatives, friends had come to Belotti-Bon for fond and tearful farewells, but that there had been "gran confusione in casa." How she longed for peace, the "pace dolce " (sweet peace) only she and I could know together once more. She confirmed on November 9 by the following Western Union telegram that her departure was delayed and that she had received the essentials that I had sent:
GRIPSHOLM RITARDA PARTENZA HO RICEVUTO SOLDI PACCHI LETTERE SII CALMO PRESTO VERRO SONO TRANQUILLA TANTO AMORE LICIA EDWARDS.
Within the next two weeks she had received notice to come to Naples to prepare for boarding. In a bizarre turn of events, the US Army shuttle bus to Naples broke down in the early evening at Caserta. A generous lady passenger offered to put her up for the night at the home of a friend in Caserta pending continuation to Naples the next morning. Apparently the lady who owned the place entertained gentlemen friends throughout the night. Licia fastened her door securely and didn't sleep a wink.
It was December 1, 1945. Ever faithful resolute and loving Vittorio came to Naples to be with Licia and to help her board, actually getting on board with her for a visit to her room, Licia and Vittorio were as close as brother and sister could be.. As Gripsholm moved out into that beautiful bay with Licia waving to him on the pier below, he rushed to Western Union for the telegram I had so long desired and at times doubted I would ever receive.
It was written in the enthusiastic, inimitable and totally loving way of which Vittorio was master and dated December 1 RCA Napoli:
GIORNO MAGNIFICO BELLO COME AUGURIO LICIA PARTITA OGGI PRIMO DICEMBRE FELICISSIMA RAGGIUNGERE CARLO MOLTO AMORE FAMIGLIA ITALIA A TUTTA FAMIGLIA AMERICA . VITTORIO SARGIACOMO. (Magnificent Day Beautiful Omen Licia Left Today December First Very Happy Rejoin Carlo Much Love Italian Family For All American Family. Vittorio Sargiacomo).
And by radio from SS Gripsholm dated December 10, 19445 Licia cabled "Arriving Monday Very Happy Love Licia." I would be on the pier where she first spotted me from where she was standing on the ship's deck above.
There were other war brides on board. Most of the passengers, men and women, were American citizens stranded in Italy and elsewhere during the war. Her small cabin was filled to capacity with four adults and two children; one of the mothers was Spanish and an accomplished singer. During the voyage she found good and compatible friendships with several ladies --- Maria White, Maria Contini, Amelia Fusaro and Zoe Borghi. Maria White was a war bride, and Zoe Borghi's pilot husband had been killed in the war; they both became friends with us for life.
In the first leg of the voyage, Gripsholm reached and docked at Marseilles where more passengers boarded and Licia was able to mail her first letter to Mother Sargiacomo dated December 2. This letter (translation mine) exclaimed about the wonderful meals on board. It movingly expressed both the joy she felt that she and I would soon be reunited, but the sadness of separation from her home:
Cara mamma, Vittorio will have told everything about my departure; he stayed with me until the ship left, he also could visit part of the ship and so can tell you more. Already I have been 24 hours on board and thank God I am very well. We eat wonderfully and much, the ship is comfortable, and my fellow travelers are friendly.
For morning breakfast we have plenty of orange juice, two eggs, bacon, butter and marmalade, coffee, milk, sugar --- as much as we want. At noon minestrone, biscuits, two or three side-dishes, ice-cream, fruit, coffee --- as much as we can eat! And at six in the evening we also have minestrone, meat or fish, side dishes, a sweet and fruit --- so you can see I am well treated! (Note: after the skimpy rations in pre- and post-war Italy all this was a godsend for. Licia and Mother Ida must have been pleased).
Tomorrow we reach Marseilles and I think I can mail this letter there; who knows when it will arrive. I am not yet sufficiently calm to tell you with precision it I am sad or very happy. If I think that I will soon see Carlo I can not count my joy; it I think on when I will be able to see you again, I am sad ... there are a variety of things that make me feel many different sensations.
The sea is calm now and I hope that if there is bad weather I will be able to endure it..
Vera has been so dear, as always. The evening before parting she gave me a beautiful bouquet of roses and your photograph in a beautiful blue leather frame --- I am so very touched by this. I love this photograph, and the one you gave me of your engagement to papa, and I will keep them always near me.
Dearest mamma and dearest all: I will write to you again as soon as arriving and disembarking at New York. With many dear dear kisses, your Licia.
Once Gripsholm passed through the Straits of Gibraltar the weather changed. It proved indeed to be "stormy passage" on the North Atlantic in December. The small ship encountered heavy seas and strong winds that tossed her about at times in a passage that took two weeks.
It was on or about Monday December 15, 1945. In succeeding days through Christmas there followed another one of those events of my own life so emotional that I can not now recall the specifics. It is a blur, with certain visualized images standing out from the blur.
I had notice that Gripsholm would dock for disembarking at the Port of New York Authority's Newark pier. It was a crisp but clear December day with New York City already in festive Christmas decor. There is nothing quite like the excitement, and the confusion, of the docking of a transatlantic liner. Licia had spotted me before I her. Somehow we found each other in the happy jostling throng, she in a stylish broad-brimmed hat she had managed to find in Rome. Her winter coat looked stylish to me too; it was in fact an army blanket she had died black and transformed into a coat. But our only thought was to hug and hold as closely as we could when the agonies and the uncertainties of the past months were dissolved.
There hadn't been much baggage to clear through customs, just two cases that I could easily carry. Her two trunks filled with her handmade linens etc. had been shipped by Army transport in June or July and had safely arrived.
I had reserved a room for us at the luxurious Commodore Hotel beside Grand Central Station. New York City with its row on row of towering buildings, impressive avenues thronged with traffic and people, its glittering shops and squares and its vitality makes any visitor gasp in disbelief; it was even more overwhelming on its first peace-time Christmas. The "city that never sleeps" was ablaze with lights, adorned with Christmas decorations, serenaded by the wondrous Christmas music which only sounds just right at Christmas. Licia had never seen anything like it. Soon we were alone and in each other's arms at last in our beautiful room, with its picture window framing such sights and scenes.
The next day Chan Keller came over with his Ford convertible from New Haven where he had entered Yale Law School. The bright crisp weather continued, with touches of snow. It was going to be a white Christmas.
We had been invited to spend the night at the family home of Sterling Grumman in New Haven where Sterling was taking graduate studies in economics at Yale.
For Licia and me together once more and with Chan ("Giuseppe") and Sterling ("Stalino") was in itself a blessing worthy of any Christmas. These two had become "brothers" not only for me, but for her. We quietly toasted all of our fellows of C Platoon.
My fellow Driver of our "Lucky 13" and C Platoon fraternity, true friend and brother, a guest at our wedding, met Licia and me at New York City and drove us in his sporty Ford convertible to New Haven where he was a student at Yale Law School. We spent the night at the home of Sterling Grumman, then went on with Chan to train connection for Boston and my family in Milton. Chan and I had been together through thick and thin 1943-45 --- by troop ship to the Middle East, the campaigns and battles of the Western Desert, Tunisia and Italy. Chan rose through the ranks to command our Platoon. Licia's arrival this way was a fitting finale for An AFS Driver Remembers.
Licia remembers that Mother, together with sisters Betty and Jean met us at South Station, Boston. The city, more "continental" than New York, was also ablaze with Christmas color and joy. Dad and sister Esther were waiting on the porch of the family Dutch Colonial mansion as we drove up the driveway leaving tracks through the snow. Licia remembers that Dad charged me to pick her up and carry her across the threshold of the large front door. After her years of scrimpy rations, my "little wife" nestled easily in my arms. Licia was amazed that a house so spacious could have been made out of wood.
My parents knew how to "keep" Christmas as well or better than any other family Christmas could be. After the austerities of endless war, Licia was flabbergasted and totally enchanted by the Christmas lights, the decorated tree, the stockings hung along the fireplace, the beautifully wrapped gifts under the tree, the wreaths and decorations outside glittering in the snow which had turned the stark limbs of the many trees into fairy shapes.
I believe she was enchanted most of all by the wondrous music and words of the carols of Christmas in America; she had never heard so many of them before. But of course the warmth of the family love that surrounded her was best of all. I could not have been happier, or prouder. Mother had also planned a reception during the holiday to introduce her to remaining family and to our many friends.
Our family Christmas "traditions" were a perfect blend of reverence in the celebration of the birth of Jesus and joy in the celebration of our family love. The final act of our family Christmas Eve was when Mother read so beautifully those cherished words of Matthew and Luke on the happenings of that first Christmas, and this was followed by her reading of Clement Moore's beloved The Night Before Christmas.
The years of malnutrition caught up with Licia in the winter and spring with some infections which were nursed by Mother Edwards. Nevertheless, our first born Charles Robert arrived on schedule in September 1946, followed by Elizabeth Ann (June 1949) and Peter Pastene (Washington's birthday, 1951).
Now fifty-five years after our wedding, some of it seems like yesterday. There can be few stories of fact or fiction to rival our love story of a chance meeting in war when I could have been on home-leave, a story-book courtship in a besieged town in what was for me a foreign land, a joyous wedding with no advance notice possible followed by agonizing separations while war continued, survival through war's end, more traumatic separation before finally reunited at Christmas 1945 together with my own family --- henceforth to be joined with the generations of our American and Italian families by bonds of love that span ocean and continent, as well as with the fellows and their families of our "Lucky 13" and others of C Platoon 567 AFS Car Company as dear as brothers can be. Such are the memories and more recorded in An AFS Driver Remembers, by an "old soldier" whose AFS memories can never "fade away."