My Grampy Phil rarely spoke about his time in WWII, and I was taught from a fairly young age not to ask him about it. It was therefore a surprise to the family when he casually mentioned to his children that his diary was out if anyone wanted to read it. The binder contained his entire diary that he typed his original, handwritten copy as well as pictures of him and his troop, letters he wrote to his mother, and newspaper articles about the war. No one had any idea that he kept a diary or that he had undertaken the massive project of typing and organizing it. I imagine the process was painful, but hopefully cathartic for him as well.
He left the diary out for about two weeks, but still didn’t talk about the war. One of my uncles read the whole thing. My mom was working up the courage to look at it when one day she noticed it was gone. He donated it to the Westbrook Historical Society. My grandfather kept 11 million copies of everything. I have photocopies of the same pictures and letters in multiple genealogy binders he created, but for whatever reason – likely because the memories were so painful – he didn’t make 11 million copies of this. My mother always intended to visit the historical society, make a copy of the diary, and distribute it to the family, but time got away from her and she didn’t get around to it.
“Lost” is the theme for week 42 of the 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks challenge. You can guess where I’m going with this, right? It’s pretty horrifying.
Yup. The Westbrook Historical Society lost it.
We’re not sure when it happened. After his death in 2009, one of the volunteers there emailed my mom at work and asked if she could write an article about my grandfather’s war diary. When she was done, she sent her a Word document of the touching article. My mother printed it out and tucked it away in one of my grandfather’s genealogy binders, but she didn’t save the email or write the woman’s name on the article, so we have no idea who wrote it.
In 2020, I messaged with some people from the Westbrook Historical Society to set up a visit to see and copy the diary. At first no one knew what I was talking about, then I was put in touch with a woman who said she had seen it before and would find it for me. I anxiously awaited the date of my trip, but when I arrived, they didn’t have it. They claimed they never did. They graciously created an album for me with copies of pictures, articles he had written, and a few, scattered diary pages that were mixed in with some other binders he made about the war, but the full diary was missing. No one knew who wrote the article. I searched high and low during my trip, looking for my grandfather’s distinctive blocky writing on a binder, and found many things he’d donated – even a couple of other binders of information that got my hopes up when I saw his writing -- but not his diary. I was heartbroken that he had donated such an important piece of our family history and that it was now gone.
A couple months after my trip, my mom went through more of my grandfather’s things and found a partial copy of it. About 1/3 of it was missing, but it was better than nothing. I spent the spring and winter of 2021 typing it out. I plan to eventually format it, add pictures and notes for historical context, then send it to all my family members AND give a copy to the historical society….but I’m holding out a little longer, in hopes that the original turns up. He wrote at least a bit nearly every day, so it’s an incredible treasure.
I’ve shared excerpts of it before. Here’s another, this one from August 11,1945, in Okinawa:
Still all excited over this bomb situation, and with Russia entering the war, the Japs might as well quit. Tonight, a rumor came over the radio that the Japs desired to surrender according to the Potsdam Declaration. This bit of news sure got everybody excited beyond description. Everyone on this island was going crazy. They all started firing in the air. The searchlight lit up the whole sky, flares decorated the seashore, while the sky was like a torch of flames. All were cheering. The trucks blew their horns to a full continuous blast. We all made a dash for our foxholes and laid low under the floors of our tents. We are situated on a pretty good-size hill, and the bullets were whizzing right over us. General Stillwell tried to stop this crazy demonstration by telling the troops over the radio to quit this racket because the Japs’ peace proposal was just a rumor, but he did this to no avail. Everything quieted down about one hour after Stillwell’s message to stop. No one in this outfit fired except a few at the motor pool. We were too shit-scared to stand up, and had we stood up, we might have been shot accidentally. Deacon Jones was a little on the sunny-side-up tonight, so like a true Texan, he grabbed his rifle and gave a little fireworks of his own. We had our helmets and were laying low.
The result of this celebration was pretty fatal: six killed, and thirty wounded. Everyone was crazy with joy over this peace rumor. Bet that when peace is really declared, it will really be a madhouse over here on this island rock. Guns were firing in forms of a V. Even the searchlights were forming the V. It was a beautiful night, but very dangerous and fatal.
We thought for a while that the Japs had themselves announced this rumor over the radio, so that it might get us all excited. Then they would only have to come over with their planes and wipe us out. That is why General Stillwell was telling the troops to quit this nonsense. He was afraid that the Japs might pull a dirty trick like that.
The parts of his diary I have are fascinating, and I’m grateful for them, but so much is missing. The original had my grandfather’s account of hitchhiking across the country to basic training. He slept in barns and met some interesting people along the way. Other than a page or two, there’s nothing in the existing copy about his basic training, which is a shame because according to the article that mystery woman wrote, he spent time bonding with the other members of his troop and wrote quite a few funny stories about his commanding officer, nicknamed “Bugs.” Reading the portion I have feels like jumping into the middle of a story. There are also large parts missing about the time he spent in Korea after Okinawa, and of course there are all of the original pictures that are gone. I only have a few.
As I said, I’m still holding out hope that the original was either borrowed by the woman who wrote the article who perhaps forgot to return it, or it was somehow misplaced within the historical society and will eventually turn up in a box or wedged behind a shelf. It’s not my intention to be negative towards the Westbrook Historical Society, even though other people I’ve told this story to have gotten pretty angry about it. It’s a place my grandfather loved, and they work hard to preserve my hometown’s history. They do good work. I am, however, justifiably disappointed that they have been unable to locate his diary as of yet. It's out there -- it just has to find its way back to us.
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