May 1945: Advancements

V-E Day did not bring the war to an end for the Allies in the Pacific Theater. But Germany’s surrender brought a sense of relief and joy, as well as a wave of sadness and mourning for the hundreds of thousands of Americans who lost their lives in western Europe, northern Africa, and the icy North Atlantic. “Well, folks, you have all heard the news and it is officially over in Europe,” Elmer wrote on May 9th, a day after Germany unconditionally surrendered. “We all knew it was going to happen, yet it comes as a big relief to know that Germany is out. And may God grant us a speedy victory over the Japs. It must not feel good to be a Jap, knowing the whole world is against you.” Elmer was pleased that the first, though not the “official,” instrument of surrender was signed on May 7th. “A very nice [birthday] present for me,” he wrote to his parents. “I couldn’t ask for much more.” Neither could President Truman, who was born on May 8th.

Elmer’s birthday talk that year reflected his improved morale. “At least we are making progress towards getting home,” he wrote on the 6th. “Each year I say, let’s hope next year we can be together for the occasion. It’s been a long time but I still have my faith – and endurance. So let’s hope again for next year.” He was even hopeful about being able to go home that year, at least once his 18 months at sea were up. At that point he would be eligible for rotational leave. “At least we know our time is put in,” he wrote after listing a litany of reasons why he might not go home until later that year or 1946, “and we are line to go back as soon as possible.”

V-E Day in Times Square. Corbis. From History.com.

Later in the month, Elmer reflected on his situation over the past few years, and concluded that the light was visible at the end of what had been an extraordinarily long tunnel. “I’ve been away and out here to much to let a little lonesomeness bother me,” he wrote on the 27th. “Because the end is in sight and it won’t be much longer. The days of 1942, ’43, and ’44 were much harder. We have the happier days to look forward to.” As reassuring as these words must have been to his parents, they must have also wondered just how much worse the earlier years had been, given how reluctant Elmer was to reveal his true mood to his parents. Then again, had Elmer “kicked” more about his circumstances in his letters home, his parents would have fared worse as a result – and he knew it. Parents don’t forfeit their parenthood when they send their sons and daughters off to war, but they lose most of their ability to act on their children’s behalf. For whatever criticisms one might have about Elmer’s almost cad-like writing habits toward his various romantic pen pals, he was a dutiful and loving son.

Elmer’s letters that May provide additional insight into both his reading habits and his political philosophy. “Dad,” he wrote on the 11th, “I sent in a subscription to a weekly newspaper called ‘In Fact.’ I also put in a subscription for you and Harry Scott. You should get it soon – let me know.” In Fact’s slogan, “An antidote for falsehood in the Daily Press,” reflected the career and reputation of its publisher, the well-known muckraker and rogue reporter George Seldes. The news sheet filled a gaping hole in the American information economy: the absence of an established, patriotic journalistic voice who nonetheless refused to echo government (or enemy) propaganda. Elmer, like many Americans both in the service and at home, enthusiastically supported the war effort while yet remaining skeptical of the now-censored press and wary of cherry-picked reports of Allied progress overseas. Seldes believed that Americans could handle the full, unvarnished truth. “I ran across the paper out here; rather a shipmate called my attention to it . . . I think it has a lot of good dope, maybe you will agree. Anyway, this fellow Seldes backs up all his news with facts and its good.”

In Fact was an “antidote to falsehood,” but it was also notable for its stance against fascism. From Archive.org.

Elmer also started to warm to his new Commander-in-Chief. “Yes, Dad, Truman may make a good President,” he wrote on the 11th. “I believe in giving him a chance.” Of course, he and millions of others continued to mourn FDR. “Losing Roosevelt was a great loss, you and I agree he was a great man.” But with the war nearly won, it was time to look towards the future, and Elmer understood – as Truman did – that America’s leadership would be even more critical in the months and years to follow. “Let’s pray that the world’s great powers can work in harmony and establish a league or something to maintain peace in this world.”

While Elmer’s support of Truman was still somewhat guarded, he was far less restrained now when discussing Rose with his parents. No longer just another romantic pen pal, his letters devoted more space to her than they have towards any woman since, and possibly including, Pat. “I did get two lovely letters from Rose,” he pined on the 16th. “She is such a sweet girl; writes the best letters of any girl that ever wrote me. Sensible and intelligent.” He continued piling on the compliments, and even noted the deal that they had made: she would not cut her hair, which he liked long, in exchange for him not shaving his mustache. “That will be easy,” he added, “because that’s your same wish Mom.” A few days later he was more self-reflective. “Mom I believe I always thought most of Rose even when I went with Shirley,” he admitted, perhaps more to himself than anyone.

He related how he recently revealed one of his romantic secrets to his new girlfriend when she told him how bad she felt about not being in St. Louis for the recent birth of a nephew, who then died only a few days later. The entire family was crushed, and with three of her brothers away fighting overseas she felt guilty about not being there. “I told Rose she was the only girl I had a picture of on my bureau at home. And how you had to watch and put it away in case another girl called. She got a good laugh out of it.” He then asked his mother to keep it there, regardless of who called on them. “You’re safe now, mom.” For her part, his mother tried to alleviate the pressure somewhat, perhaps sensing that her son was finally lovestruck and did not need any additional prompting. “Well mom, if I’m not [really] a bachelor until I’m 30, [then] I’ve got a good way to go yet. Ha! Ha!” While Elmer discussed his feelings with his mother, he tried to rationalize his changing views when talking to his father. “Guess Dad is right,” he offered on the 23rd, “I need not worry about some gal hooking me. There will be plenty of women to extra women to go around after the war. And I have my Rose waiting, and my best girl will always be at home.”

Elmer’s growing commitment to Rose did not only affect his letters home to his parents. Even after his breakup with Shirley Elmer still had an extensive collection of written wartime romances, some of which had likely not yet been concluded. This could theoretically complicate matters with Rose, as when one of his flames, Hettie Jean, moved to Washington D.C. to start a new civil service job. “I don’t suppose Rose or Hettie Jean will meet each other in Washington,” he wondered. “I’m not worried about it.”

Elmer wearing a Chief’s khakis. Luckett family photo.

Rose was not the only one to receive a promotion that month. Elmer received some unexpected news that May: he earned an advancement to Chief Machinist Mate. He was now a Chief Petty Officer, and would finish the war – and his service – with that rank. However, he was not able to tell his parents about it until the end of May. Here is his explanation why:

There is a little story to the deal. Our ship already had its quota for CMMs, and my rate had to go through a lot of official channels before they could advance me. Last March I took my exam for chief and made a 3.8 score. Very good! And in April the Chief Engineer sent a letter out with the Captain’s recommendation for my advancement. In April I just finished one year as MM1/c, but in most cases you must be MM1/c for eighteen months before being advanced to chief. But my record was very good, good marks all along, and I have quite a bit of sea duty, so the Engineering Officer and Captain thought I was an exception to the rule and recommended me . . . It took quite awhile for any action on the letter they sent in, but Monday my rate came in approved . . . and that’s my good news.

Elmer to his Parents, 30 May 1945

Being a Chief Petty Officer had its privileges. “My pay jumps $15 a month,” he wrote, “and I get a $250 clothing allowance for my new type uniforms. Of course while I’m out here I won’t need anything but a couple of hats and some khaki or grey shirts and trousers.” He planned on getting a blue uniform in the states, and in the meantime keeping “about one hundred and fifty aboard shop in case I ever get a leave.” His pay that month, with the clothing allowance, was $346. “Nice piece of cash,” he remarked.

Elmer and his pals on the Mink. The man on the front left may be holding a Japanese skull. Elmer referenced this when he mentions in his 5/23/1945 letter that “several fellows got some skulls at one spot we were at, but I didn’t care to mess with one.” Luckett family photo.

Apart from the pay, there were other fringe benefits, like being able to visit the CPO club on the beach. “Last night I went over with our chiefs and did some celebrating. They have a nice bar and tables around and you can enjoy drinking your beer. The prestige and privileges of a chief aren’t hard to take.” They were also exclusive: in order to get into the club, he had to borrow some khakis and a hat from his crew-mates. One privilege that didn’t require dressing up was him being able to sleep in an extra half hour each morning. “7:30 instead of 7:00,” he wrote. “So much for that.”

Elmer was not the only one passing out cigars: another one of his buddies made chief that month as well, and his close friend Lloyd Hill did so in April. “We have eleven chiefs aboard now,” he remarked. “Pretty good bunch of fellows.” Meanwhile, as the number of chiefs aboard swelled aboard the Mink, the Pacific overall seemed to be more crowded all of a sudden, especially with Germany’s collapse and the impending push to finish the job in Japan. “Got a card from Warrant Machinist Damian, he’s the former chief that wrote me from Florida (on the Chew you remember),” Elmer wrote as he closed his letter of the 11th. “He is in the Pacific now and I’m on the lookout for him. All the people I know out here – surely I should meet someone soon. Ha! Ha!” He would get his wish . . . by the end of the summer Elmer would end up hanging out on the other side of the world with someone whose travels intersected with his own: his future brother-in-law.

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