Letters From War Wednesday: World War II – Bernard Duesler.

Here it is!  By popular demand, the History Junkie is starting a new feature.  We will call it, Letters From War Wednesdays (LFWW). Each and every Wednesday, we will post a sure-to-be compelling letter from one of our brave lot.  Enjoy.

Bernard Duesler - USS Barbel

Today’s offering, staying with the USS Barbel theme of the week, comes from Bernard Duesler.  Duesler served as a Radioman, Third Class aboard the Barbel. The Barbel, with 10 kills to her credit, was lost in the South China Sea on February 4, 1945.  All 81 crew members, including Duesler, John Bogert and Frank Reynolds, were lost.

The letter, from Bernard to his brother Charles serving in Europe, is dated December 1, 1944, only months prior to their final patrol.

“Dear Chuck:

“I’ve had in mind for some time now to drop you a line .  But always something comes up like a good ‘bull session’ or the subject of sleep.  Always something to put it off til tomorrow. So today I fooled ‘em. You see today isn’t today, but next Monday.  When I started to write I thought of putting it off just once more, but instead of doing it I merely dated the letter a few days from now. It gives the same effect.

“Before going any further let me explain that this is bound to be an incomplete report.  As always before, subject matter is plentiful, but censorship puts the shears to everything a guys says concerning anything. So there you have the whole story. That part took no effort what-so-ever, but from here on out what I have to say will have to come from the brain, and so often we’re told that we’re not paid to think. That leaves me without words. I’m simply forced to try my hand at either making a shit heel out of myself or raise your opinion of the FINER branch of the service.

“Really I’m fine!  Who am I trying to kid? My joints ache.  My head is getting bald.  My teeth are beginning to fall out.  My fingernails are turning black. Both ears are plugged with wax. My eyes are bloodshot.  And only last week I lost all the hair off my right arm (went to sleep laying on it and that’s what happened when I woke up). Aside from that, all is well and under control.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had any mail that I feel I should write a letter of introduction rather than one of mere routine.  Yep, to date the last letter I have from you is one telling me your new address right after you received your commission.  You said you may move on soon.  That’s why I sent this home, to have it forwarded to you.  Well at any rate I will if  I don’t have any mail from you when we do get it.  But what the hell! Who am I to complain? There’s a war on!! Who knows this more than the Duesler family? It seems to me this menace will never end. Each report we get puts us just a little closer to the Armistice Day No. 2, but to look forward to it puts it quite a ways in the future.  I am quite convinced that if everyone keeps on pluggin’ away, it won’t dare last forever.  Just between you and me this is one ship that to date is doing her share.  She’s plenty good for my money.

“Time out here goes by so fast day by day, but it seems so long for a week to pass by.  Don’t make sense I know, but it’s the only way I know of expressing myself.  It’s day after day, never ending, four hours on watch and eight off.  And always the same thing day after day, except the times it’s broken by Battle Stations. I’ve learned one thing I thought was an impossibility when I was in high school. There, sleep was something you talked about, never had time for it. Out here you can’t possibly sleep during all your time off as there’s nothing you do that gets you tired physically, well not very often anyway.  I sleep merely because the human body requires you to do so.  No kidding fella.  I never was in the want of a nice long walk before in my life like I am now.  I think the first snow I see I’m going to go out and roll in it.  It gets plenty warm on here at times, especially just as they finish charging batteries.  The crews quarters are just over the after batteries and sometimes the deck gets so warm that you feel mighty uncomfortable walking around in your bare feet.  Come to think of it I don’t believe I ever told you I had to change my bunk.  Haven’t had a good night’s sleep since.  It seems that two officers of the Barbel liked the looks of Spike’s and my bunk (Spike’s from Philadelphia) in the forward torpedo room. So now my gear is in the forward room and I have a bunk in the crew’s quarters. Spike’s gear is also in the forward room, but his bunk is in the after room. With all of this true, it means that someone has to ‘hot bunk’ (that is three guys in two bunks) here. I’m lucky. I have a sack of my own. When subs first came out years ago everyone had to ‘hot bunk.’ But in new subs today, it’s rather uncommon.

“You can make me one big promise.  For at least 50 years after I’m home don’t ever mention my working in out of the fresh air and sunshine.  Occasionally I go topside at night for a breath of fresh air.  Sure feels good. Even though there is nothing up there to see, I can’t help buy say at times it’s actually beautiful.  Don’t ask me what or why.  But it’s something that makes a guy feel not quite so bitter toward life and at times puts a song to your mind, even if you can’t sing.  I pull a hayseed and whistle my tunes. Can’t do that either.  So what’s the difference? Speaking of tunes, you should hear my guitar playing! No tune there either, but I’m right proud of my ability.  I assure you I’m the only one that appreciates it and even at times I get fed up and quit.

“God-A-Mighty, a year ago little did I dream I’d have to go so long without even as much as seeing one of those gorgeous characters or things they call women, or shall I say members of the weaker sex? But believe me I’ll try to survive the crisis.  While on this pleasant subject, how’s your love affair coming along?  Bumped into anymore redheads? Perhaps this may be of interest to you. In my very detailed way of thinking, I’ve kinda sorted over the lot and in my mind have the one picked that I’d like to have as my Mrs. As to who, well according to custom she should at least be one of the first to know. So just stand by patiently and I assure you that you’ll be both surprised and satisfied.  Besides things may not pan out like I have planned.  It’s a long shot, but I’m playing for it.  If this kind of life does nothing more for a guy it sure presents the opportunity to slow down a little and figure out a few things.  When you have no contact with the outside world there is no way anyone can sway your thoughts.  If you can be truthful with yourself you can look at every detail from every angle.

“Water in front of us. Water on both sides of us. Water to the rear of us.  And what do you have? It appears to me we’re actually heading into an endless nowhere. It’s a funny thing though, we usually end up where we planned to go.  Always looks the same–big swells peacefully rolling on and on.  White caps at times breaking time and again.  When it’s real rough, this round-bottomed sub is tossed about freely as if it were a little match box in some fast-moving creek.  I’ve read stories and poems of how peaceful it it just after a storm. I never appreciated it before now. We haven’t hit a lot of hard storms, but what few we have is enough to last me from now on. I remember once we were in the edge of a typhoon. Brother if that was the edge, I’d gladly cash in my chips if we were to go through the middle of it.  Another thing I never realized before, when this sub was built she was heading north.  To me, she’s been headed that way ever since.  Even when I’m on the helm and we reverse course, still headed north. Yet, right there in front of me is the compass reading 180 degrees. Yep, sure as anything the world is moving around us. Pretty important ship don’t you think?

“From the places we’ve been and things I’ve seen, I’m just now beginning to realize just how many stories will be brought back after the war. And also, the numerous amount that will never be told. Some day I’ll make an addition to that paragraph several pages long.

“This Navy is full of some pretty good ‘bull shitters.’ And this ship has her share. Some of these guys argue on some of the simplest subjects that can be named. Almost anytime of day you can find an argument going on in some compartment. Naturally the subject of women is tossed quite freely from mouth to mouth.  Each guy tells in great detail and emphasis on every minor happening as to just how he made out and invariably turned out to be the hero.  Once in a great while some big brave man steps forward and tells an incident where he was left holding the bag. Never ending is the continued razzing by one another.  Everyone can take it and dish it out. That is a great reason why we are a good crew and have a good fighting ship. One of the arguments that goes on continually is on deciding who are the better–regular navy men or naval reserves. This is one that will never end as long as there is either.  The Civil War rages on and on, Yankees and Rebels. Each one has his own view points on the war and its outcome. I assure you, it’s mostly view points. We get little good news. Usually by the end of the second week the usual few have it all doped out as to who will be transferred at the end of the run and why. As disagreement enters into the picture, round and round they go, never at a loss for words. Anything to keep talk going.  There’s plenty of ‘bum dope’ artists on here and more than the same amount of guys who believe anything you tell them at first.  Speak about molehills turning into mountains in an old maid’s conference.  You should hear some of the stories change on here. Some guy will make a remark saying, ‘Wouldn’t it be swell if we did such and such a thing?’ And by the time it’s to the after torpedo room, we’ve already done it.

“How was Thanksgiving for you? Us? Well you see it’s this way. Once during my life I spent Thanksgiving under water, some odd 65 feet.  Odd because of the funny little animals (I think) and the salt you find in it.  That was this year. For chow we had something very special–chicken and ham. We only have ham about 12 times during the week anyway and chicken at least twice. But this time it was better than usual.  The menu read: chicken, spiced ham, sweet potatoes, mashed Idaho spuds, oyster dressing, giblet gravy, cranberry sauce, buttered peas, artificial coca cola, mincemeat pie, pumpkin pie, whipped cream (okay, artificial whipped cream), cup cakes (with frosting), and the commissary department (artificial too) broke out the hard candy, of which about half is still to be absorbed.

“I’m thinking it’s near time I end this.  It’s been a long time Charlie since I’ve seen you and from the looks of things the day I get back again is still quite a ways in the future.  But don’t worry about this end. Around here, about the only trouble you get is what you ask for.  Next time you get to town, drink a fast one for me.  We’re in the midst of prohibition out here!

“As usual with a weak gam,

“Bud

“P.S. Really you should see my ‘soup strainer’, namely my ‘cookie duster’ or my mustache. I use it to strain the tea leaves from my tea. Maybe I can send you a picture some day.  Our photographer is off duty for some time. Could it be because he has no film or camera? Or could it be because we have no photographer?”