Wartime Love Letters from the South Pacific

An Excerpt

In the solitude of the study, I open the dusty box and remove the stack of wartime letters. I hold them to my nose and breathe in the essence of a bygone era. Fifty-nine letters, bound by a brittle rubber band, saved in a dresser drawer for half a century. Fifty-nine letters in his own hand, the precise print of an engineer, angled ever so slightly to the right. Yellowed on the edges but otherwise pristine, each tucked in its envelope with care.

I sort the letters by point of origin—seven in all—and organize them by postmark. July, 1944 to June, 1946, the tail end of World War II. The earlier letters, delivered postage free by the Military Postal System. The later, affixed with six-cent air mail stamps.

The World Atlas lies open on the desk. I trace his route with my finger. By land from Chicago to South Bend to Newport, Rhode Island, then west across country to San Francisco. Lieutenant Junior Grade A. F. Bandur, Jr., reporting for duty, Sir. By sea to Pearl Harbor, Manila, Shanghai and back. Twenty thousand miles by train, bus, and ship.

The incredible journey of a quiet young man from Berwyn, Illinois. A journey halfway around the world, from college student to naval officer, from teenage boy to married man. A journey he shared in letters to his girl back home and never spoke of again. Part travelogue, part history lesson, part love story.

I lean back in the leather chair and open the first one.

He began them all the same.

Illinois Institute of Technology

14 March, 1945

Dearest One,

When I read your letter, I could almost hear you talking to me.

It was swell of you to write.

I’m at the Serviceman’s Center.

The band is tuning up and boy, do they make noise.

I can hardly hear myself think.

They’re playing the Star-Spangled Banner.

How about going to the Edgewater Saturday night?

That is, if you want to.

I’ll buy you a highball and hold you close.

Moonlight Serenade plays in my head.

I can hear the music now.

I love you, Norm, I truly do.

I’ve never felt this way about another girl.

The weekends are so far apart.

Are you still mine, pet?

Love always,

Alfie