A Letter Home from 1944

While looking through a box of old family photos, a yellowed newspaper clipping fell into my lap. Carefully opening the folded souvenir, I found a letter from my father to his mother who lived in King City, Missouri. that the Tri-County News had published under the heading, "Major Bob Warren's Letter Sermonette on Tolerance". After reading it, I saw more than a treatise on tolerance. I saw vignettes about World War II, particularly its effects in Italy. It is reproduced below:

Aug. 23, 1944
Somewhere in Italy

Dear Mother:
Yesterday, Aug. 22, I received a package of letters -- 38 in all. This is the first mail I've had since I left Africa early in July.
I've really seen a lot of this part of the world since I came overseas. I have crossed the Atlantic and crossed and recrossed the Mediterranean. I had a quick look at Sicily -- saw two volcanoes in action, Strombola, off the coast of Sicily, and Mt. Vesuvius. I wandered through the city of Pompeii that has laid buried at the foot of the volcanoes from 72 B.C. until about 1700 A.D., when it was discovered and dug out.
I just saw the havoc caused by war in Naples. The bombing there was surely terrific, and while it has been cleaned up, it still shows the scars of war. Later I visited Cassino, the town destroyed by the Allies. From there we drove through the Anzio beachhead. Words can't describe war. For miles the countryside was battle-torn. Wrecked and burned tanks, guns, trucks and even German aircraft lay in fields where it was destroyed. Occasionally, along the road, you could see plots of ground filled with white crosses of the dead. Death is no respecter of persons. There were Germans, English, Canadians and all. There is something pathetic about a soldier's grave ... just a little mound of earth, his steel helmet resting on the grave, the little white cross at the head that gives his name, rank and serial number... mute testimony that all soldiers do not return. Should I join those lads who sleep along the road, don't grieve for me. That's only a hazard of the game.
I must tell you about Rome. Leaving Southern Italy and entering Rome is almost like coming home. Rome is untouched by war. It is a city of wide avenues, smart shops, modern apartments and well-dressed people. Even their street cars are as modern as those in our capital city.
I stayed at a beautiful hotel, with fine mattresses, tub baths, clean linen and all. We ate in a hotel dining room where the waiters wore white tiuxedos -- and just a few miles away the grim business of war!
I spent two days seeing the sights of ancient Rome. We visited the Catacombs where the early Christians buried their dead and met for worship. We saw St. Peter's and the tomb of St. Peter. Each day at 12:30 p.m., Pope Pius gives a public audience to Allied officers and men in Vatican City. I saw him and received his blessing. I took two rosaries with me. He touched and blessed them. Does that sound strange coming from a Methodist minister's son? I shall keep one and give one as a gift.
You learn tolerance and charity in the army. Even the Mohammedans in Africa, who face the East and pray to Allah, worship God in their own way, and though we don't agree on all points, the Vatican in Rome is the foundation of early Christianity. It was there that the Apostles Paul and Peter were martyred.
I am so glad you are well. I'll be home soon and hurry to see you. Give my regards to Louie Bowman when you see him. Write often, Mother. I certainly enjoy your letters. Give my love to all the family.

Your son,

Robert C. Warren


My father made it home safely, but not until the Fall of 1945, nearly a year later. If you have read this far, I hope you'll agree that the effort he made to tell a story about war was worthwhile. As a youth, I never saw the rosary he wrote about. I imagine he gave both of them away to persons of the Catholic faith. I think Louie Bowman was the publisher of the newspaper, which may have prompted Grandmother Warren to provide the letter for printing.