See Here, Private Foley!

By The Foleys

See Here, Private Foley! is a collection of love letters between a young deployed World War II soldier and the love of his life. Ken and Patricia Foley have both passed away and left their correspondence to be discovered by their children and grandchildren. We are happy to share with others their passion and humor revealed in this journey taken by a young couple while separated during the war.

Kenneth M. Foley was born in 1915 in Washington, DC. After he was born, his parents divorced and his blind grandmother raised him along with seven other grandchildren. He had a very difficult time growing up and attended several high schools. Ken apprenticed with an electrical company and was acknowledged for his commitment and work ethic with a promotion to become a foreman. By 1940, he was overseeing the electronic installations in the new barracks on Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland. During which time, he met Patricia Lawrence who was raised in Washington, DC and attended George Washington University and was in the Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority. She worked as a stenographer for the War Production Board in DC after college. They were married in 1941 and lived in a small apartment (#522) which was referred to in the letters as their “522”. Shortly thereafter, Ken answered his nations call to arms by enlisting in the United States Army to support and defend our country during World War II.

A young man fought in a war where he experienced events and saw sights that he would have never thought possible. His wife lovingly supported him from home where she bore him his first child. The two grew up quickly in a world where the written word was all they had to comfort one another. The beauty and romance that an era knew as their only form of communication have since been replaced by text messages and emails. Follow along as a witness to their unbelievable journey throughout a deployment during World War II.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Foleys
• Release date: Jun 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9781937387563

Book preview

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book to the memory of my mom and dad, Patricia and Kenneth M. Foley. It would not have been possible had my mom not saved all the letters between them. To my children who were so instrumental with the publication process and to my grandchildren who will someday get to know their Great Grand Parents whom they never met.

Background

See Here, Private Foley! is a collection of correspondence between a soldier and his family during World War II. We have provided samples of a few of these letters so you can see the style in which they were originally written. Any type of editing has been avoided so the richness and warmth of the letters can come through to the reader. Along with that decision came grammatical and spelling errors that have not been corrected.

Sample of an Original Letter from Pvt. Ken Foley to Pat

Sample of an Original Letter from Pat to Pvt. Ken Foley

See Here, Private Foley!

A Soldier’s Heartfelt Letters During World War II

Prologue

See Here, Private Foley! is a collection of love letters between a young deployed World War II soldier and the love of his life. Ken and Patricia Foley have both passed away and left their correspondence to be discovered by their children and grandchildren. We are happy to share with others their passion and humor revealed in this journey taken by a young couple while separated during the war.

Kenneth M. Foley was born in 1915 in Washington, DC. After he was born, his parents divorced and his blind grandmother raised him along with seven other grandchildren. He had a very difficult time growing up and attended several high schools. Ken apprenticed with an electrical company and was acknowledged for his commitment and work ethic with a promotion to become a foreman. By 1940, he was overseeing the electronic installations in the new barracks on Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland. During which time, he met Patricia Lawrence who was raised in Washington, DC, attended George Washington University and was in the Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority. She worked as a stenographer for the War Production Board in DC after college. They were married in 1941 and lived in a small apartment (#522) which was referred to in the letters as their 522. Shortly thereafter, Ken answered his nation’s call to arms by enlisting in the United States Army to support and defend our country during World War II.

As a young man, Ken fought in a war where he experienced events and saw sights that he would have never thought possible. His wife lovingly supported him from home where she bore him his first child. The two grew up quickly in a world where the written word was all they had to comfort one another. The beauty and romance of the written word, that an entire era knew as their only form of communication, has since been replaced by text messages and emails. Follow along as a witness to their unbelievable journey throughout a deployment during World War II.

Ken is indoctrinated into the Army in Camp Lee, VA.

The following letters are between Ken and Pat.

Friday

Camp Lee

Darling,

This the first time I’ve realized what they meant, when they said that the toughest job would be adjusting myself. I never would have admitted that I was so dependent upon you (you know what a hard headed Irisher I am), I was looking forward to coming, home this weekend but we’re just been informed no passes, the roads are washed out and flooded. This feeling I have tonight I’m going to blame on weather, but just between us I haven’t seen you for so long as I write this I’m entertaining such ideas as (going over the hills) I shake this off but then it comes right back.

When I boil it all down I am not the hardboiled soldier & thought I’d be, I’m just a young fellow who wants his Pat and his 522 back to hell with this army. I was going to telephone this evening but I’d have to reverse the charges and I don’t want to run the telephone bill up.

Well enough of blaming my fate honey I sure do love you and I just have to talk to you some way so go ahead and write me a letter address it like this

Pvt Kenneth M Foley

Co E 1363rd Service Unit

Camp Lee Virginia

Remember I told you I had never written any letters I suppose you believe me now after trying to decipher these messes.

All my love

Kenneth XXX

answer by return mail

Please thanks

P.S. Don’t show this to anyone they’ll be feeling sorry for me but with you it’s different I love you soooooooooo much. I bet you didn’t know I would be so silly did you

Tuesday,

Fort Monmouth

Hi,

Well here I am where I wanted to be sent, and boy what a trip up. We left the station in D.C. about 7.30 and didn’t arrive here until 7:00 morning. Between Wash and here we were on no less than eight different trains. In Jersey City we sat on a down train for 3 hours before we found out it was the wrong one, and then found out we had missed the right one. It took us exactly 21 hrs to get from Camp Lee here a distance of about 350 miles. I’m sure a dead pigeon this morning from that jaunt.

We haven’t had a bit of sleep yet. The first thing when we arrived this morning we ate, then we were issued our field equipment, gas mask, tent, cartridge belt, rifle, hock etc. next inspection and then I grabbed a few moments to write this. We have been promised by the dear Sarg. That we begin work immediately, he’s such a sweet thing I know I’m going to love him—Nuts.

It was cold as hell up here this morning and we were informed that we could expect cold weather from here now in. and you know how me and cold weather get along.

We’re 16 miles from the center building of the fort, right smack on the ocean, and I do mean right on it. I can almost throw a rock and hit the water from my barrack. Everything seems to be strictly business and work here, but I understand we are only in this part of the camp 5 weeks then we are moved to the other end. I suppose you know by now that Mother and Emma ran down to the station. It sure was good to see them. Well write and address the letter the same as the outside of this envelope. Be good.

Love you XXX

Friday,

Fort Monmouth

Honey Bun,

What in the heck is the matter? I’ve been answering the mail call every day now and no mail. Don’t tell me you have forgotten your loving Ken already, that would never do. If I don’t get some mail by Mon I’m going to telephone and see what can the matter be!

You can’t imagine what this place is like it’s a combination prison, concentration camp, labor camp and torture chamber, I honestly am amazed, that so many men get through this. Anybody that says the American men are soft is nuts and I do mean nuts. When you do get out of here you’re a combination super man, commando, and, Tarzan. This is the toughest job I’ve ever tried, seen, or heard of. They stand over you with a whip and drive the men from 5 in the morning to 7 in the evening with never a rest period. Today is the first shower I’ve had since I’ve been here. I was talking to some advanced men last night that haven’t washed their face and hands or combed their hair in six days. The only time you get is mess, and then you have to gulp it down like a starved wolf. I’m as sore as a hell all over. I think my back is broken.

My sweet I sure do want to hear from you but soon.

I feel terrible when I’m anxiously awaiting till he reaches the F’s and then no Foleys. My shoulders fall 6 inches my heads bows and I trudge my weary way back to this army style (beauty rest trundle), so write lots and often, and don’t forget your ever-loving husband.

Love

xxxx Ken xxx

Wed,

Hello Darling,

It’s raining up here, I suppose it’s following me I wonder if we were ever going to have another dry spell. See honey I sure do miss you. I think about you all day and dream about you all night. Do you miss me? I hope so The Basic training period of here only lasts 4wks and 5 days exactly, and I begin the course Mon. This week we are taking pre basic. After our basic we move over to it. Monmouth, where we take about a 3 month course in some special line, hence to O.C.S. This seems to be straight dope at last on this thing.

Streamlining the basic to 4 1/2 wks is what makes it so tough, and this is why so many men flush out. You are probable wondering why I said we move over to Monmouth. Well I’m not at Monmouth now I’m at Camp Edison about 18 miles from Mon, but our mail must be addressed to Mon.

This is one harsh camp. We are in one story barracks with round coal stoves in the center. The latrine (bath & toilet) is about a quarter of a mile away, where they almost never have hot water and when they do the line is so long, by the time you get in it’s all gone. We eat out of our mess kits, you remember you saw the Capt’s. Every thing is thrown in and you wash it yourself after your through. Tell Jack, Skip found me last night he’s here too. His barrack is just up the road a piece.

Honey chile be sure and write now and don’t keep me waiting too long. You probably haven’t finished the coding the first one. Aren’t I the worst letter writer you ever saw. I’ll try to improve

Xxxxxxxxx Love & stuff xxx

p.s.

address the letters the same as the corner of the envelope now didn’t understand

Sunday,

Fort Monmouth

Hello,

I had made up my mind to be mad, and not write till I got some answers. But I’m sitting in the Rec. hall and some soldier started playing Gershwin like our friend across the street use to do on Sun morning and I got a sudden case of nostalgia so here this. If I don’t get a letter tomorrow I’m going over the fence and see what the hell is the matter with you or the mails, honest.

Gee I miss you, these damn Yankees up here call me virginny, and (the rebel) we have fought the civil war twenty times already. It seems the time pass, basic starts tomorrow then I’ll have less time then last week and won’t be able to write as often but you’d better write and plenty.

If were good boys and don’t get any (gigs) we can get a twenty four hr pass two weeks from now. I sure would like to come home then. We get out at 5pm Sat. and have to be back 6pm Sun. This would give me about 12 hrs home from 12 at night till 12 noon Sun. The way things are I don’t suppose I’ll be able to do it tho damn it.

Say hello to your family and tell then I think of them often and sure would like to be pulling my knees under their table some Sat again

Xxxxxx Love xxxxx

WAR PRODUCTION BOARD

WASHINGTON, D.C

Monday Oct 12

See Here Private Foley!

It’s awful darn lonesome around here without you. The apartment seems so large and empty now that my baby isn’t around to fill it up.

It was just as I knew it would be. I was terribly sad when you left me Friday morning, but after going to work I felt a little better, But Friday night! I thought I’d die. Going into our apartment without you was almost unbearable. The realization of the fact that I might not see you for months on end is pretty terrible. I thought about you, sleeping on your little Army cot—it is so lonesome at night lying in bed and knowing that the form in the other bed isn’t my great big beautiful husband.

I was very thankful for Mother—she was quite a comfort. I picked her up Friday night, we went home and had dinner at the Tea House at the village where we used to eat once in a while. After we got home, Betty came over with some of her things and we were very busy the rest of the night getting your things packed away. Saturday, I went to work in the morning and then met Mother for lunch. Then we went home and Betty came over with the balance of her things. Honestly, you never saw so much stuff as we have in that house. I cleaned all the closets yesterday, got things marked and in order and stacked back. What a job that was!

You left your comb and brush home and your nail clip. I wondered if you would need them. I could send them down or up to you if you do. I thought I would discard your old leather jacket and hat—let me know if that is all rite. It seemed so final, clearing all of your things out and packing them away indefinitely. All the things that I associated with you in some way another or on special occasions are all packed in boxes with memories. It makes me so sad to think about it that I’ve tried to keep myself busy with one thing or another. It’s pretty hard.

Your Mother was quite broken up the day you left. Please don’t forget to write to her often, even just a card, and keep her spirits up. You’re all she has and wants to keep you as close as possible.

The neighbors have been very nice—they keep inquiring about you. Captain McGuirk came in yesterday and cut the end off of that other half of Virginia ham. I was going to save it until you came home but there wasn’t a thing in the house and we had the shorts until payday so I brought it out. The McGuirks invited me to dinner last Saturday night, but Mother being there, I couldn’t make it. We said we’d make it some other time. The day you left about four people called me for lunch—it made feel rite good.

Lester is leaving next Tuesday for New York. He has joined the Merchant Marines. Mother, as usual, is worried about him. I hope he makes out alright. I agree with you in the respect that they ought to let him make up his own mind. But Daddy just loves to feel that he’s doing something for other people and that’s the way he feels about Lester. He feels that Lester has made such a mess out of his life to date that he will try to do anything to help straighten him out. He doesn’t realize that he has to let Lester has stand on his own two feet. It’s a very unfortunate situation. I wish he would straighten out the way you did.

The McMahons went out to the track Saturday, and believe it or not, John broken even. Paid expenses and all. I guess the track will have to do without me for awhile—I can’t afford to feed the horses and myself too. It will seem funny not to see the people we used to see together. Now that I am a bachelor girl, I’ll have to find other forms of diversion. I think I’ll take up ice skating.

John says that he thinks I ought to apply for at least a B gas card—claim that I drive to work and carry a couple of passengers—in case I should need the extra gas at times to come to see you. I think it’s a good idea—what do you think? I’m not planning to use the car except at times when I will have to be out too late to use the bus. But there may be times when I’ll want to use it to see you, or you’ll want to use it when you’re home. One thing I just have to do now is get a permit—first thing I know I’ll be picked up for not having one. Rite now I couldn’t stand it. I got the car all washed and clean, and am going to have the valves adjusted Wednesday morning—also the oil changed.

I called General Edwards about the accident this morning. He said that he had already reported the accident to his insurance company and for me to send the estimates to him and he in turn would send them to the insurance company. So I ought to be getting the work done soon, I hope.

John spoke to Stinky the other day about getting me a raise. I am pretty sure that I will get one, if John has anything to do about it. You see this Branch might fold shortly, or Fulghum might be going into the Navy (God help the Navy!) and I want to get a Grade 3 status before either of those things happens. Also, Jack might not be able to do very much for me shortly if he changes jobs. So it will have to go thru shortly.

Betty is very nice. She and I have lots of common interests and so far has had a fine time. She promises to be a help around the house, and that in itself is something. She’s so tickled to be out there, using her own things and everything. Her life at home was so insignificant. After she and her sister were married, her family moved into a small apartment because they no longer needed a house. For the past year she has had to live with them and it was very unsatisfactory because she had no privacy at all. She’s crazy about our place and says it’s the only real home she’s had for the past two years. She and her husband have had a reconciliation but she hasn’t see him since July. He was drafted and is at Camp A.P. Hill near Fredericksburg. Her family is very much opposed to Clay. During the time that they lived together they lived with his family which was already in an overcrowded house. Those two things in themselves are enough to break up any couple.

Darling, hurry up get your commish so your sweet lovin’ wife can be with you. It sure is hell to be separated from you. I’d rather have you with me if we had fifty fights a day than be away from you for one day. I love you so very much, every little thing about you. I miss your cute little ways and expressions and the crazy way you used to act. It seems so funny to tell you these things because the whole time we’ve been married, saying things like that has been kinda taboo for some reason. I never could tell you how very much you mean to me and how happy I’ve been with you. Much happier than if we had had a very smooth year with no ups or downs. I’m so thankful that we were given at least a year together. It seems now no longer than a week or month but there are so many memories crowded into it. Let’s hope that we’ll have lots more.

I hope you’re going to be happy in the Army. I’ve thought so much about it. I think it’s wonderful that you’ve gotten just what you wanted—especially when you were so pessimistic about it. I know that you’re going to make the most of it because you’re going in with such a wonderful spirit. I know that you’re going to be the best from the west. I’m so proud of you.

Please write and tell me all about it. I have so many questions in my mind about what you’re doing and how you like it. I’ll bet it’s hard to get used to Army life—it’s such a change. Were the shots very bad? I hope they didn’t make you sick. I’m dying to see you in your uniform. I wish I had a picture of you; maybe one of these days I will. I can’t wait to see how the Army trims you down. Probably the next time I see you you’ll be as a svelt as a philly.

Anything that you can think of that you need let me know and I’ll do my best to send it to you. I found a snapshot the other day, not such a good one, but one of myself that I thought you might like to have I am enclosing it.

Well darling, be a good boy and don’t sass the sergeant. I have high hopes for you. Remember that yo Little ol’ wife is keeping the home fires burning and a candle in the window just for you,

All my love goes with you

Pat

PS—xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TRITE BUT NICE [Drawing] WOE IS ME!

Patricia Foley

Wednesday

Darling,

It was so wonderful hearing your voice once more last Monday night. I would have died if I had missed you. Golly but I’m glad you called just once more. It seemed so funny (ironic) that you were rite here and I couldn’t see you.

Your mother got an awful kick out of seeing you. I only wish you had called me at work. I could have been over to the station in five minutes. I felt funny all over when I heard your voice—it may seem odd to you but that’s the way your voice has always affected me. I always get an awful thrill when I hear it. Please call me when you get a chance. I didn’t think of all the things I wanted to ask you at the times. Is there anything—soap, toothpaste, socks, handkerchiefs, sweaters—that you need. Let me know, please.

I judge that you’ve decided on the Signal Corps. I didn’t like what you said about the army. You‘re in there for a long time, so please for my sake, make the most of it. You probably feel that slump at the beginning—I guess it’s only natural—but I’m sure you’ll get over it. Remember it’s what you wanted and a lot better than what you mite have gotten. I’m so proud of you—don’t let me down. I want my soldier boy to make something of himself. You couldn’t bounce your son on your knee and tell him you were any less than a general.

Speaking of generals I took the car over to have it fixed today. They didn’t finish it I have to take it back. I bought a gallon of Prestone so I’m all set for the winter.

I have made arrangements with the bank whereby I can pay off 15 per month on the car until the money comes here from the army. Then I’ll plunk enough down to get caught up and I’ll pay a couple more months. I’m glad to get that settled.

Aren’t you proud of your with wife? At last I really have a Virginia permit. Now I can drive without worrying about that terrific fine imposed for driving without one

I saw Clair yesterday. He said that he had a card from you. I‘m real proud that you’ve gotten around to sending cards to all of the people you have. Everyone is thinking of you and wishing you well.

Gen is still pretty sick. They can’t seem to break her fever. It seems that after a week they ought to be able to do something.

I am enclosing these crazy snapshots we took over there that night. They sure enough do look like French postcard. It looks as tho I’m pulling my dress up instead of down. Moir thought you‘d get a kick out of seeing them. I’m also enclosing a snap of me practically the only one I have I thought you mite like to have one even tho you haven’t asked for it.

I’m working very hard lately so hard I fact that I haven’t had one chance this week to write to you from work—Soooo I’m doing it at home. I’m in the middle of trying to get a new job I thought until today that I couldn’t have any trouble getting a release from where I am but it seems that I’m indispensable (ha ha) I got pretty rash in some of the things I told Falgherm this morning but I’m just fed up I think maybe I talked him into a release at any rate, I’m going ahead with a pretty good job I have in mind in Jacks building in the aircraft division it’s a $1620 steno job as a secretary with much more promise for promotion in 3 months than where I am. If I can get the papers cleared soon it will be effective as of Nov!

I’ve got my fingers crossed there and Blackwell took me up to see about it. It’s in her decision the man I would work for is a regular guy (a K.A). Betty I found out knows him and his wife very well.

Betty & I are getting along fine although she is a mighty poor substitute for my beautiful husband. I can’t jump in her bed the way I did yours I sure do mess that. If I could just put my arms around that 220 lbs of love and muscle ok boy wouldn’t I be happy darling I don’t think would be possible for you to miss you the way I do you—life is so empty and futile. The only thing I look forward to now is the next time I get a letter from you, hear your voice on the phone, or see you. I’m sending all my love,

Pat

WAR PRODUCTION BOARD

WASHINGTON, D.C

Thursday Oct 15

Hi darlin’,

I still miss you like fury. This new life without you doesn’t seem quite real. It’s as if I were wandering around in a fog. I can’t seem to be able to find enough to do. But I guess the first week will be the worst.

It was wonderful hearing from you. I’ve read your letter over and over again. Please write often. I’m glad to hear that you like everything so far. You’ll have to write and tell me in detail all the things you do. Every soldier I see now I looking very carefully and try to imagine how you must look in your uniform. I imagine by this time you must be at your new camp wherever that may be. I imagine that it’s Monmouth because Jack says that’s where Skip is. I received your clothes yesterday—it seemed so funny. Your poor old flannel suit practically a uniform. Well, you won’t have to wear it for a long time anyway.

Yesterday, I stayed off and got a lot of odds and ends cleared up. I took the car to Emerson & Orme and had the valves adjusted. At the same time I had a new estimate on the damage to the car made and had the water tested for antifreeze. Then I went to Windridge & Handy and had another estimate which again was less. I’m going to have to have the car inspected before the end of this month so I want to get it all fixed up. I sent the estimates to the General. Then I went up to Clarendon to see Moir and he went over with me to take a driving test. I couldn’t take the road test because it was raining buckets bit I got the written one out of the way. It was simple. Both the baby and Genevieve were sick so I went over with Moir in the afternoon and tried to do what I could to help. Gen had the grippe with a pretty bad fever and Linda had the croup.

John has been home for a couple of days. I think it’s his tummy again. At this point I don’t think it’s going to be possible for me to get a raise in this office at any date in the near future. Soooooo—I think I’ll start looking around for one elsewhere. John is going to see what he can do. I’m thoroughly disgusted with this set-up built on pack of lies and softsoap. I’d like to get out and find some decent people to work for.

I’ve been catching up on my radio stories since you’ve been gone. You know—the ones couldn’t stand. I knock myself out every night.

I wish you could see the stuff we have in that apartment now. Betty brought over all her kitchen ware the other night and there’s nothing that you can possible name that we don’t have. We made some of those sugar cookies that you used to like the other night and I thought about how you would have dived into them if you had been there.

I’m going over to your Mother’s for dinner tonight. I think she’s feeling better now. Tomorrow night we’re going out to Jack’s for dinner. I’m not losing weight at any rate. Even tho I might not feel like fixing meals, people have kindly invited me out. Truly tho, we’ve been having pretty good meals this week, but I can’t get used to buying smaller amounts and serving smaller portions. After your enormous appetite, I can’t get used to Betty’s. She brought a little coffee pot with her, thank goodness. I’ve found out where I can get a top to mine, So I’ll have to practice up so I can make a good pot of coffee when my soldier boy come home.

I found a cartoon in Esquire that I thought you might enjoy—I’m enclosing it.

My greatest problem now is trying to figure out how to save some money so I can come to see you if and when that may be possible. The money situation is very grave—I’ve been trying to find out how I can keep up the car payments for the first couple of months until some money comes thru from the Army. It’s going to be mighty close. I guess I’ll figure out some way.

Well, sweetypie, goodbye for now. It’s just about time to leave the office and pick your Mother up. More later.

It’s ironic that you don’t realize how very much you love a person until they’re not around. I love you more than anything in the whole wide world. Gosh, I hope I see you soon

All my love,

Pat

xxxxxxx

WAR PRODUCTION BOARD

WASHIGNTON, D.C

Friday morning, ten o’clock

My baby,

To the day and the hour you’ve been away exactly one whole week. It’s seemed an eternity. Gosh, Gosh, Gosh, it sure is awful!

I’m at the office once more and this morning I am feeling particularly low. This steady rain for the past four days has done nothing at all for my morale. You know how I hate rainy days. At this point it’s become almost impossible. Last night was the worst of all. As I told you, I went over to your Mother’s for dinner. I told Betty I’d pick her up in town on my way home. It was raining so hard that I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, and I had to drive ten miles an hour all the way home. I got drenched. We have a threatened flood on