In honor of Veterans Day, I'm sharing some of my previous posts at The Estate Sale Chronicles that have to do with war-related images and correspondence I've found at estate sales and other second-hand venues.
I think it's also important, whenever possible, to track down surviving members of soldiers' families and offer to send them the old war letters that turn up at estate sales (or copies of them, if they're not interested in the originals). That's what happened with this unique batch of letters from one soldier to another, after they returned home from World War II.
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The war letters I find at estate sales are usually hand-written or typed. Occasionally the writer will add a little doodle or sketch, or tuck a newspaper clipping or cartoon into the envelope, to entertain the reader.
I did a double-take when I first opened this letter. That's an original pencil drawing at the top!
March 6th, 1945
Dear Bill,
...The little picture at the top is from a sketch looking out from the door of our tent at Parramatta, the soldier is heading for the mess hall where you and the boys used to come for dinner when you were on duty at Sydney.
That camp was located on ground belonging to Henry Ford, he had intended building a plant there but gave it up for some reason.
The ground was very level there and were were flooded after a big rain of 16 inches in 24 hours, remember it?...
I believe it was in the first part of April I came up to Warwick Farm one Sunday morning and saw the boys marching out on their way to the 32nd Div. and points north, since then those boys have covered a lot of territory and did some hard fighting....
When he returned home, Reese worked in a shoe factory that had a defense contract. Bill worked at a hospital in another state.
Even though the letters continue into 1946, past the official end of World War II, I consider them all to be "war letters" because in them, Reese describes his experience as an American soldier stationed near Sydney, around 1943.
Above is an original pen-and-ink sketch of a bridge in Sydney, Australia, that adorns the top of another letter, from 1946. Note the boats beneath.
Dear Bill,
Once again you see "the bridge," and as dusk falls the lights of Sydney wink on and Luna Park attracts the boys in suntans and their girls from Down Under.
Electric trains at Town Hall, Windward Station, Kings Cross, Parramatta, and Warwick Farm, gee, Bill, it all came back to me as I made this pen and ink sketch, and the first night we were there, standing by the rail of the transport watching the search lights go on in different parts of the city until they at last located the plane which glowed in the evening sky like a giant moth when all the lights were on it.
...They were very patriotic [at his current job location] and bought a flag which was hung in our department, one of the fellows who stayed at home was standing looking at it last week when an ex-GI, who had been a prisoner, barked, "Stop looking at that flag you damned 4F,you did not think enough of it to fight for it and you don't know what it means." Some of these days it will end in a fight and I hope that I will be around when it happens, might be exciting....
Another letter shows an original painting of an old train that ran through the town of Parramatta, Australia, near the place the American soldiers were stationed.
Dear Bill,
While you are taking time out for a much deserved rest in Milwaukee I will also take time out to write a decent letter and also paint a little water color of that quaint little train we saw at Parramatta. Quite a difference in that ancient locomotive and its open carriage to the trim, sleek lines of El Capitan. I expect you saw it several times when you can from Sydney to Rosehill Camp for dinner.
It came past us one evening when were going to Parramatta, puffing and laboring along and we stopped to watch it, an old Aussie seemed very proud of that little train, said it was the first one in Australia and it was more than 104 years old, we didn't say anything but I thought we kept antiques like that in the Smithsonian Institute....
The final piece of artwork in Reese's letters is my favorite:
It was 1946; he and his wife were building a new home.
(I wonder what it would feel like to see not only letters, but artwork, from one of your ancestors? What a joy, to be able to provide that experience for a family.)


































