Eleanor Roosevelt -- My Day (1943)

201

August 16, 1943

Hyde Park, New York – (Sunday)
I have been asked to participate in the campaign which the Office of War Information is launching today. The purpose of this campaign is to increase the use of V-mail, and they have adopted as their slogan: “Use V-Mail To Be Sure.”

The reason for this campaign is that we need to conserve space on both planes and ships. Mail is felt to be one of the great morale builders for our soldiers overseas, particularly if those of us at home write the kind of letters that will give the boys pleasure and will not cause them unnecessary worry.

V-mail has a priority over all other types of mail, other than official government dispatches. It saves 98% of the space on planes and ships. When the United States uses V-mail 100% for overseas correspondence, the equivalent of the full-time service of 25 huge Liberty Ships will be released for the transportation of vital medical, food and munitions cargo.

Seventeen hundred letters converted into V-mail occupy a space not much larger than an ordinary pack of cigarettes. V-mail is now available to most of the principal theatres of war and will get there much faster even than airmail letters in the future, because regular airmail can no longer be sent by plane to any place where V-mail is established.

Of course, the ships carrying mail are safer as we get more control over the seas and the U-boats are less active, but since V-mail letters are carried by plane, it is interesting to know that all original letters are kept at the port of embarkation. If a plane carrying V-mail meets with an accident, or is brought down by enemy action, a duplicate film is immediately forwarded.

It is impossible to do this with any other type of mail, and that is why so many letters have never reached our boys or, when they write them, never reach us at home. Some boat or plane has met with a mishap and the bags of mail are in Davy Jones’ locker at the bottom of the ocean.

For me it will be hard to write only V-mail letters. I have never been quite able to bring myself to the feeling that there was any of the direct personal touch in a V-mail letter, that there is in a piece of paper that someone I love has actually written on. Nevertheless, if that is what we have to do, perhaps it will bring the war to a close sooner. There isn’t one of us, I know, who would not do anything to bring our loved ones home from the South Seas, Africa, Europe or India, even a few days earlier.

202

August 17, 1943

Hyde Park, New York – (Monday)
The secret is out and I can now say that the Prime Minister and his daughter, with the other members of his party, were at Hyde Park with us for the past few days.

We had picnic lunches both days and tried to give them as many American things to eat as we could think of. I found that even the Prime Minister learned to eat corn on the cob quite proficiently before he left.

Mr. David Gray, our Minister to Ireland, who has also been staying with us, made only one request of me, namely, that we give him corn on the cob at every meal, for once he is back in Ireland he will get none.

Miss Mary Churchill is young and lovely looking and full of life. It was a joy to see how much she enjoyed doing the things that are a part of our country life here and would normally be part of her country life at home. Instead, for two years, she was first a private and is now an officer in the Auxiliary Territorial Service.

She serves in an anti-aircraft battery. While they do have time off and she comes home now and then for dinner and the night, her time off is so short, she told me this was the first opportunity she had had in two years to swim or to ride a horse.

She is a friendly soul and stopped to talk to the soldiers as she went along. One of them presented her with a magazine, because it had some articles on Great Britain in which he thought she would be interested. She won a tribute from the corporal riding with her, for when he went out with me, he said with feeling:

Miss Churchill is a beautiful rider, she knows how to handle a horse!

The Prime Minister seemed to enjoy leisurely talking at meals and sitting out under the trees. There were hours, of course, of serious work for both the President and the Prime Minister, but it was also a period of relaxation. The Prime Minister said to me:

You know one works better when one has a chance to enjoy a little leisure now and then.

The old proverb, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," holds good for all of us, I think.

Miss Thompson and I were particularly sorry that Mrs. Churchill had not sufficiently recovered from her journey across the ocean to make this trip to Hyde Park. She was so kind to us in London, that we still hope someday that we may be able to welcome her somewhere in this country. She is a lady of great charm and vivacity, and her kindness and fine character endear her to all who meet her.

203

August 18, 1943

Hyde Park, New York – (Tuesday)
Late Sunday afternoon I came to New York City and the President returned to Washington. I felt rather guilty that I could not be in New York City in time to join the Mayor for the broadcast which opened the series on “Unity at Home – Victory Abroad,” which he had inaugurated.

I spoke from the Library at Hyde Park, however, with my husband listening in, which was a very curious situation, for I have often sat listening to him, but I cannot remember when he sat listening to me.

The fact that I could speak from there gave us several more hours in the country together and I was happy not to miss the pleasant, leisurely luncheon out of doors and the good talk, which is one of the rare things which we enjoy when only a small company is gathered together. So much of the time one has to weigh one’s words carefully and there are so many things one would like to ask about and discuss, which in the hurry of the average days slip out of one’s mind.

New York City seemed warm when we stepped out of the train, but the apartment was cool. A kind friend took us to dine out of doors nearby, and in the evening, I had a visit from another friend, which was a pleasure but covered some business as well. Yesterday I had a number of appointments.

Now that there are signs of things happening more rapidly on many fronts, people in far greater numbers are beginning to think of what should be done at home and abroad in the postwar period. They want to be useful, but so often they do not know what groups are at work, or what work has already been done. I think that is one of the main ways in which we can save time, if people who want to work can get together and not duplicate the work which has already been done.

I was interested in the interview with Mr. Frederick Libby and his proposed campaign for pacifist action this coming winter. His psychology seems to me rather poor, no army which is winning is in danger of wanting to make the same mistakes which history teaches were made the last time. It will want victory this time to be complete.

People will want such measures taken as will insure the power of the nations that were forced to go to war to subdue the aggressor Axis powers. I am never keen on too much power for any one group of nations or any one nation, but I am very anxious to see a coming together of nations who have fought this war to insure a real effort to keep the peace in the years to come.

This work cannot be done by us alone. It can be done if we work together and increase the joint responsibility for making conditions throughout the world the kind which create contented people with hope in their hearts for happiness. Such people will not want to plan for death.

204

August 19, 1943

Hyde Park, New York – (Wednesday)
I have just been reading a book called Khaki Is More Than A Color, by Sgt. M. H. E. Marsden. He tells the story of the boy, any boy, in our democratic American Army, how he feels when he goes in, how he adjusts to the new way of life, how he learns to drill and to use a rifle. It is an excellent commentary on the fact that we did not bring up a generation of young men to conquer the world.

It is the story about the ups and downs of our men in training. There is none of the excitement that comes in a book when a man is telling his actual fighting experiences. Here is a boy who loves music, who makes the remark when he goes home on leave:

At dinner it seemed strange to see the candles, the silver and the white cloth. I can’t seem to get used to things like that.

How quickly our boys adjust to what has to be done, getting down to the real necessities of life, learning how to make their own beds and wash their own clothes, rejoicing when they get a decent mess, but somehow worrying through with whatever they have to eat and wherever they have to eat it. They wash their own canteen kits when they use them, pass in line to leave their plates when they are in barracks, sometimes being told like children what to eat by top sergeants, who do not do it quite as gently as it was done at home when they were young.

Once grown accustomed to living with an army of men around them, they say to themselves when they go home, as Sgt. Marsden does:

I suppose that in time I will get used to living with so few people in my life.

They love these few people and rejoice in their leaves and the opportunity to be with them, and yet have learned the lesson of companionship, which comes to the man in the ranks when he lives so intimately with the men around him.

These men grow very close and yet, when they have to separate, that is accepted as part of the fortunes of war. Perhaps the deepest lesson of all is that a man stands by himself on his own feet and carries his own burdens.

Christmas in camp and the knowledge that now they are trained, and the closing words of the book probably epitomize the way a lot of boys feel when they know they are off. No exact time is set, but it is soon and they have a sense of plunging into the dark.

I wound my watch and laid it on the desk, I can hear it there now ticking away the time.

The time before what? Before the great adventure from which some boys will return and some will not.

A mother whose boy will not return wrote me the other day and said something which I think all of us should remember:

I have always felt that it does not matter how long you live, but how fully you live.

When you read the book, you’ll know that Sgt. Marsden means that too, and many others feel it as well.

205

August 20, 1943

Hyde Park, New York – (Thursday)
I have been to a number of exhibitions at which there have been paintings and drawings done by men in the services. I do not know whether these men are all artists of some reputation, or whether they have been inspired to paint because of the new scenes which surround them. I have wondered, however, whether there might not be some way of stimulating the men in the armed forces to express through whatever medium appeals to them most, the thoughts and feelings which come to them during this war.

Most of the songs which are sent to me are written by civilians at home. The songs we remember from the last war were written by professional song writers or men in the services, and were picked up by these same men and sung so constantly that they became well known in the populations of many countries. Some young poets recorded their thoughts and feelings in unforgettable verse.

I would like to see the same thing brought about in this war. Perhaps, prizes could be given for the best pictures, poems, songs and stories written by the men in the armed forces. In the case of songs, I think we would have to add that the song must be sung by some group of men in the services, so that it becomes known as a popular song among them.

Perhaps these competitions should not be solely among the servicemen, we might include the servicewomen and even the defense workers. Thomas Hood once wrote “The Song of The Shirt.” A man or woman today might write “The Song of the Riveter,” or the welder. Someone might write the housewife’s song, picturing the difficulties of wartime rationing, shopping and transportation. There might be put into verse or prose all the difficulties of farm life today. Whether the medium is prose or poetry, music or painting, there could be both humor or pathos in the descriptions.

One couple writes me that, while they are now devoting their time to working in a defense factory, they devoted much of their time last year to visiting labor organizations and giving readings of their own poetry. They were richly repaid in appreciation, but came out with less money than when they started their journey, which is not strictly a businesslike transaction.

If I had the skill, I would write the saga of my own shortcomings as they are presented to me daily through the mail and the press. It would make amusing reading because of its variety and the many contradictions.

Instead, I think someday I shall write a little essay on the accomplishment of women in this war, as compared with their achievements in the last. I think it would make a great many people proud to run over the record of the past year and to realize in how many ways women have contributed to our successful accomplishments, both on the home front and in direct war work.

206

August 21, 1943

Hyde Park, New York – (Friday)
A lady who belongs to a family whose ancestors fought on the Southern side in the War Between the States, writes me a letter stating that she thinks many people with sons or husbands, who are privates in the ranks of our armed forces today, do not realize how fine a thing it is to be a private. Therefore, she enclosed a copy of a letter written by Gen. Robert E. Lee to her great-grandmother, because, she says, this very great general expresses herein his feelings about a boy who chose to remain a private, even though he was offered a higher rank.

The letter is so interesting historically, that I am quoting it here in full:

Dear Mrs. ____

I received yesterday your letter of the 1st inst. in reference to your grandson. I have taken much interest in him from the beginning of his career; his amiable disposition, setting aside other considerations, having attracted me towards him.

After the death of his gallant father, a position with the Chief of Ordnance of the Army was offered him, which it was hoped he would accept, but he preferred to remain with his associates in the ranks.

I think the position of a private soldier in the Confederate Army is the most honorable in the service.

With respect, I am your kinsman and obt. servant,
R. E. LEE

I have known many fine people who preferred to go into the present war as privates, partly because they thought should promotion come, they would be better equipped to lead, having had this basic training, and partly because they wanted the opportunity to know men in the ranks, where there is, of necessity, a certain kind of intimacy and where every man stands on his own feet and starts at scratch.

I have always thought that this desire to prove yourself on equal terms with your fellow men, exists very strongly in men who have never had an opportunity to mix with a great variety of men and, therefore, are a little uncertain of themselves.

207

August 23, 1943

Hyde Park, New York – (Sunday)
Wartime housing has led certain people to various conclusions. Some said to me the other day that they had been in some of the modern trailers built to house emergency workers near war plants, and in some of the defense housing which covers the minimum decencies of living, and they had decided that this was really all anyone should ever need in the way of a home.

Housing has made great strides during the war. In the laboratories new materials are constantly being developed, so it is more than likely that when the war is over it will be possible for people, who have never before been able to afford a decent house of their own, to build one at a moderate price and to live in it comfortably. I hope, however, no one will feel that the space which has been accepted by workers during the present emergency period is really sufficient for an acceptable home in the future.

It is true that many children grow up in tenement houses, crowded all their lives into rooms where there is no privacy and under conditions which allow no human being to commune with himself in peace and tranquility.

Every child needs some spot where he can collect a few possessions which he will grow to love, where he can even indulge in a hobby. If he cannot do this at home, he will look for it somewhere else, and home will not be a home in the sense of being a place of refuge for the soul as well as the body. It will be a place in which to sleep and eat and see the people with whom, for some strange reason, the child recognizes there is a tie which cannot be broken, but it will not be a place where deep spiritual relationships develop. The chances are that mother, father, sisters and brothers will be people whom the child knows very well. They meet every day and they know each other’s habits and peculiarities, and some of them of them are irritating and some of them seem loveable, but the person that the child feels stirring within himself, remains locked up waiting for the privacy that is never found at home.

I think one reason that so many country boys and girls come to town to make good, is because they usually grow up in an environment where some place can belong to them and where they can be alone. When we think about homes for the future, we have to think about taxes, insurance, real estate values, good plumbing and the best possible way of producing something which will last long enough to be a good investment for the owner. Let us remember, however, that homes are places for families to grow in, and let’s try to plan for space so individuals can create their own environment and grow in it.

208

August 24, 1943

Hyde Park, New York – (Monday)
Not long ago, more or less rhetorically, I asked the question of my readers, “Are We Ready For Democracy?” It has amused me to find how seriously that rather unimportant remark was taken and how little the people who took it up understood what was really meant.

To be a citizen in a republic, which has a representative form of government, is what we ordinarily mean when we talk of democracy. Exercising this citizenship is a very much more difficult accomplishment than the average person envisages when he or she comes of age. To be sure, we teach children in school today much more than we used to about the privileges and responsibilities of citizenship under our form of government. Teaching is one thing, but really to grasp the full meaning of the value of citizenship and, therefore, of its responsibilities, is quite another.

Most of us think that if we don’t actually get into trouble with the law, if we vote on Election Day, if we support ourselves, then we are what is known as “decent citizens.” But that is a pretty meagre description of something really the highest privilege to which any man can aspire. To be self-governing, to be the person who decides what powers shall be granted to his government, how he will be represented and by whom – that is a fine thing – when we add to that the responsibility of citizenship. What our community, state and nation shall stand for the in the world – that is being a part of something really magnificent.

The conception of citizenship in a country such as ours is so large that the vision frightens some of us at times. We know that our best efforts will never be enough. We know that this citizenship requires a constant discipline of ourselves, an examination of our every action and of our every thought to make sure of its honesty of purpose. We know that it means we cannot be mean, small or selfish, because on us depends the attitude of our nation, and our nation has the potentialities of greatness and power.

It can have a tremendous influence for good or evil, and that depends on me and 130,000,000, more or less, other citizens. You and I as individuals must have a vision to play our part well. That is why I asked whether we were ready for democracy. I was not belittling democracy. I was envisioning its greatness and its power. I was not casting doubt upon the ability of our people, but I hoped to spur them on to greater vision of the responsibility which our citizenship puts upon us in this period of history.

I hope that I and every citizen of the United States shall ask ourselves every day:

Am I doing all I can according to my lights to be worthy of my citizenship in the United States of America?

209

August 25, 1943

Hyde Park, New York – (Tuesday)
I received a notice the other day from the National Fire Protection Association, telling me that Fire Prevention Week will be observed from October 3 to the 9th. They sent me a number of booklets which show the various causes which bring about home fires.

I am very familiar with most of these causes and I realize how hard it is to remember all the precautions which should be taken. Just lately, I was in a house where, in the middle of the night, a gentleman was found to have fallen asleep while smoking. By the time it was discovered he had burned a large hole in his mattress. Many times, things nearly happen and they serve to make us more careful, but we really are not as grateful as we should be for the tragedies averted.

Important as I think the prevention of fires in the home may be, I think the prevention of forest fires is of even greater importance. These fires may burn many homes, but even if they do not take human lives and property, the mere burning over a wooded area is a great material loss to more than one generation.

We, in this country, must be very careless, for as you fly over many miles in the United States, you can see below you, over and over again, great patches on mountains and hills of charred stumps. This often means that before the hillside is re-seeded the rains have washed the soil away. The mountain is bare and there are floods in the valley below. Good soil is washed down into the sea and the people have lost a part of their inheritance.

Many lumbering companies do a wonderful job of cleaning up any area they cut and replanting seedlings, so that the land may continue to be an asset for future generations. Other companies, however, are interested only in getting out the lumber which will bring them an immediate income. These people are the ones who despoil our country just as surely as any foreign enemy.

The CCC boys did a great deal for the areas in which they worked on soil conservation and forest preservation, but these boys are now in the armed forces, or at work in our rapidly expanding industrial setup. In some parts of the country, I understand, that the women have been enlisted to watch forest fires in the wooded areas and to send in the alarm.

I am sure that they also go out and fight whenever a fire gets started. While this is good, it is not as important as training all workers in great lumber industries so see and recognize the importance of conservation through the prevention of forest fires. If they look upon their work not just as a job to cut down trees, but as a job which preserves the forests for the future as well as for the present, we shall make strides in the care of our forests.

210

August 26, 1943

Hyde Park, New York – (Wednesday)
Some time ago the Foreign Policy Association, Inc., issued a short report. It was an article on relief and rehabilitation, based on the speech made by Governor Herbert Lehman at a dinner given by the Association.

If you have not seen this report, I think it would be well worth your while to write in and ask for it. It is such a reasonable, modest explanation of what Mr. Lehman’s committee is doing and it gives us a comprehensive vision of what the United Nations must do in the future.

He explains the conditions that now exist and will exist for some time in Europe and Asia. He shows us that the care of civilian populations is a part of our military operations, because, frequently, it will make possible the successful carrying through of an undertaking which might otherwise cost many lives, and mean constant military supervision of dissatisfied people.

Governor Lehman bids us realize that it will be as harmful to approach the peace unprepared as it was to approach the war unprepared. It can, perhaps, cost civilization some serious setbacks, since hungry people are not apt to be able to devote themselves to constructive rehabilitation. Mr. Lehman, points out, however, that our object and that of the United Nations must not merely be the relief which must first be given, but the provision of such things as will make the populations self-sustaining as quickly as possible.

It is merely “enlightened self-interest” to make people self-sustaining, because only in that way can trade begin again and only through trade can our nation get back its investment in relief and have an opportunity to build markets for new goods among the more prosperous people of the future.

The following lines should be remembered by us all, for they accent the fact that this is one of the ways to bring the war to an end more quickly.

The war right now is costing the American taxpayer about a billion dollars every three days. Its cost in life and spiritual value is incalculable. The knowledge that the United States and other United Nations are prepared to extend relief and rehabilitation to the victims of war, and to sustain the spirit of resistance among the downtrodden people of Europe and Asia when the hour of freedom strikes, will help to transform those people into a cohesive group, ready and willing to cooperate in the battle of liberation. Should our readiness to bring relief to the weary peoples of Europe and Asia shorten the war by but a week or two, the United States will have saved far more on war costs, than the total outlays which can be anticipated in the field of relief and rehabilitation.

211

August 27, 1943

Hyde Park, New York – (Thursday)
Some time ago I published a letter from a miner’s wife in my column. It gave the average earnings of her husband, which were comparatively small, and added some ideas of her own on what should be done.

Since that letter was published, I have heard from the manager of “Bituminous Coal, Inc.” He pointed out that the low rate of wages and the fact that a six-day week was not worked as a general thing, could only be true in a poor mine. This is very likely the case, but I think it should be pointed out that in many reports which have been made by a variety of commissions, this question of the “poor mine” has been discussed.

For many reasons, certain mines cannot be worked profitably except under extraordinary circumstances, such as we face today. Mr. Armstrong gives me the number of days that are worked on an average in one of our great coal mining states, and the total salary paid an average miner, who is neither a foreman nor a superintendent, nor working on some monthly basis. These salaries per year averaged in 1942, $2,617.62, with an average of 308 days’ work in 1942.

I am going to quote two paragraphs from a second letter which I received from Mr. Armstrong:

In case it proves of further interest, we will be very happy to furnish authenticated statistics to show that tens of thousands of bituminous coal miners earn $300 a month and more in wages; that many thousands earn $400 and above per month; and that not a few industrious miners can and do earn $600 a month and more in the actual mining of bituminous coal.

The leaders of this industry, as you may know, have rarely spoken out in public, even in the face of sharp criticism. Rather, they have tried to advance the economic and social wellbeing of the miners by performance, by example to the more backward marginal operators.

I am very glad to have these two paragraphs. I am afraid I am a little of a “doubting Thomas,” and wonder how many men managed to earn $600 a month.

I am going to ask my correspondent to send me in greater detail “the efforts that have been made to advance the economic and social wellbeing of the miners.” I realize that it is hardest for the marginal operators, who, therefore, are probably the most backward. However, there are too many things I have seen in what are supposed to be prosperous mining communities, which make me feel there is still work to be done. While I am glad of the assurance of good intentions, I am going to ask with interest for the proof of performance.

212

August 28, 1943

San Francisco, California – (Aug. 17)
This column is being written on the plane just before reaching San Francisco. I am about to start on a long trip which I hope will bring to many women a feeling that they have visited the places where I go, and that they know more about the lives their boys are leading. I am going on this trip for the Red Cross, because I found in Great Britain that, if you wanted to talk with the boys, you had to catch them in their moments of ease. Many of those moments are spent in Red Cross Clubs. In addition, I want to visit as many of our hospitals as possible, and there, again, the Red Cross uniform is a familiar sight.

I have been invited to visit New Zealand and Australia to see the work that the women are doing, as I did in Great Britain. This, too, I think will be of interest to other women all over the world. This is a period when women are doing new things in many places, sometimes from sheer necessity, sometimes because they have long wanted to do something different but conventionalities held them back. Now the world is a freer world and those with capacity, whether men or women, are in demand.

I hope that our soldiers, sailors and Marines, wherever I see them, will know how much I appreciate this opportunity to bring them a greeting from their Commander-in-Chief, and how deeply interested I am in them and their achievements.

Now that the tide of battle seems to be running our way in the various theatres of war, and victory is no longer a grim determination but daily, drawing nearer, we have an obligation to think of the postwar period and the return of our boys to civilian life. A chance to train for the work they want to do in the world will be open to them, I am sure. Both the Administration and Congress will be anxious to give those who have fought so well and given these years of their lives to their country’s service an even better chance than they could otherwise have had to fulfill their highest ambitions.

When we get into San Francisco, I am going to spend the day at our son’s house. I am glad of this chance to see them once again in their home here for when I return, he will have left for sea duty.

Later, I shall fly over the Pacific Ocean. To our young transport pilots, it is just a routine. When some of them take out their “short snorter” bills for me to sign I am amazed at the countries they have visited. There will be few corners of the earth to which these boys cannot find their way.

For me, however, it is going to be an experience which I never expected to have. I shall see places I have read about even before this war made some of the names so tragically familiar. They tell me I shall be very cold in some places and very hot in others, that in spots the mosquitoes will be bad. In fact, they say I shall be uncomfortable at times on this trip, and it does not worry me at all. If our boys can stand it for months and in some cases, it has already been almost two years for some of them. I think that I shall be much too interested to notice any discomfort.

213

August 30, 1943

On plane going to New Zealand – (delayed)
The night before last, we reached one of the largest islands we have visited. We had to circle for a time before landing and then change to another plane for a short hop before reaching our final destination, which was great luck for me since the group to which the pilots on this short hop belonged have now made me an honorary member of their organization.

Yesterday morning I breakfasted at 7:00 and at 8:00 we started on our rounds and visited two hospitals during the morning. We went to a rest camp the Red Cross runs for officers in an old plantation, which they have done over and somehow made livable by dint of endless work and ingenuity. We saw another hospital and one camp in the afternoon and finally paid a visit to the Red Cross Club for enlisted personnel, where as many as 8,000 men visit every day. Late in the afternoon, I met at an informal reception local government officials and some more officers, among them one of my cousins Cdr. W. S. Cowles, whom I had not even known was in this vicinity.

Now I have given you a day’s itinerary and I can begin to tell you some of the things you must want to know. Let me first tell you what a debt of gratitude every woman at home owes to the Army and Navy nurses out here. They are not living very comfortably. They are seeing daily sights that must try their fortitude, for they are women. But everyone I saw was smiling.

A pretty, jaunty, little lady who lunched with me, flies in the transport planes that bring men in from the front. She must have inspired more sense of security for the men than anyone except their mothers could. She made the men feel they can hold out in spite of pain when the temptation to give up must be great.

Next to the nurses come the Red Cross girls. Miss Maria Coletta Ryan is the American Red Cross Supervisor of the South Pacific Area and as far as I can see no one could do a better job. Materials have been lacking, supplies have been delayed because of shipping difficulties, and housing for her girls has been a constant problem. There are never enough people to do the work and yet it gets done. My hat is off to every woman working in this area.

Now to the hospitals. They are manned largely by reserve and volunteer doctors, dentists, surgeons and psychiatrists, many of them the best men to be found in their professions. Their equipment is, on the whole, remarkable. When they are set up in Quonset huts or portable buildings, it seems almost like a hospital at home. In many cases, however, they must use tents. These are gloomy and the dark hospital beds everywhere are army cots with thin mattresses which cannot give a wounded and exhausted man the idea that he has a luxurious bed. The care, however, is the best that can be given and the men appreciate it.

Every boy who begins to feel even a little better is fine, and not even the most suffering complain. I am glad I am seeing these hospitals for I will know in the future what lies behind every boy in a hospital at home. Day by day as I get nearer to what people here call up north, I rebel at the horrible waste of war.

We must fight and win this war and it must be such a victory that we can enforce the peace. This involves years of work in the future and I find a prayer in my heart, “God keep us remembering.” Human beings forget so fast and if the generation that fights today is to lay the foundations on which a peaceful world can be built, all of us who have seen the war at close range must remember what we see and carry a crusading spirit into all of our work. It will profit us little to have the greatest productive capacity in the world if we have to sacrifice our far more precious human material again in the future.

214

August 31, 1943

On the train from Auckland to Wellington, New Zealand – (delayed)
The final leg of the flight to Auckland in New Zealand was quickly over. We passed over the little island of Norfolk, which looks from the air like a bit of English countryside dropped in the vast Southwest Pacific. The houses are white with red roofs and fields look small and well cultivated. Later we saw the Three Kings Islands, which are barren rocks sticking out of the water. Everything is topsy-turvy here from our point of view as far as climate goes, for the north has mild weather and as you go south it gets colder, until in the south islands you have snow and ice.

The winter is more like a New England winter at home. Incidentally, of course, it is winter here and if my own compatriots happen to be having a spell of very warm weather at home, I wish I could send them a little of the frost which covered the ground as I looked out of the train window this morning. This is primarily a farming country and though they have cut down much beautiful timber, you still see great forests of pine. They have begun to replant on an extensive scale.

I felt as though I were in Northern California when I stepped out of the plane yesterday, for here they grow citrus fruit, apples, pears and grapes. It is rolling country with hills and the mountains never very far away it seems to me.

We went at once to the airport headquarters, where a cup of tea and many sandwiches and cakes were spread out to tempt us. At the airport, the Governor General Marshal of the Royal Air Force, Sir Cyril Newall, Mrs. Fraser, wife of the Prime Minister, Mr. and Mrs. Nash, Mr. and Mrs. Raymond E. Cox and many others greeted us. In addition to Maj. George Durno of the Air Transport Command, Miss Maria Coletta Ryan of the Red Cross came with me and Cdr. H. D. Moulton, who came to represent Adm. Halsey at the airport. I was asked if I would say a word on the radio since my visit had been kept so secret that this would be the first intimation anyone would have of my presence. Mr. Nash introduced me and then I thanked these hospitable people who have been so kind to our men stationed here for taking them into their homes and doing so much to make them feel at home.

On our flight Col. Salmon, of the New Zealand Army, told me something about this country and its people. He said that there were no night clubs here, so, while big clubs had been opened for our boys, they had felt more personal hospitality would have to be extended if they were not to be very lonely so far from home.

After a short broadcast, the press came for a brief interview. They were content with fewer questions than our press at home would be, which is very pleasant for a visitor who has as yet seen nothing and knows little of the country except from books. We drove to the station from the airport and along the way some people waved in friendly fashion as they paused to watch the cars go by. At the station, a few people gathered round the train and I went to the door to say a word of greeting. A kindly faced woman came over to shake hands and tell me she lived near one of our camps and liked our boys and saw a great deal of them.

Our men seemed to have accepted hospitality in the way it has been offered. After a good meal, they have helped wash the dishes just as they would at home and they have made friends.

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Thank you for the efford to make Eleanor Roosevelts writings avaiable.

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September 1, 1943

Wellington, New Zealand – (delayed)
When we arrived in Wellington on Saturday morning, a battery of cameramen reminded me of home. Many of these boys wore Marine Corps uniforms and I discovered that they go into action with a gun in one hand and a camera or a pencil in the other. The history of this war should be well recorded in the service papers.

With the Governor General, our party was driven to Government House where we have been kindly asked to stay and where we are being most hospitably cared for. My first thought was a purely feminine one. I wanted to have my hair washed and this was arranged for at once, but gentlemen never quite understand the time it takes for a woman to dry her hair, so I was still in an unpresentable condition when the arrival of the press for an interview was announced. They waited patiently however and after our interview more photographs were taken on the terrace. His Excellency, his daughter who is acting hostess while her mother is in England, and four dogs joined me as victims before the camera.

After lunch I left my host and drove to the Parliament buildings where the Prime Minister, Mr. Fraser, met me and a state reception was held. After everyone had been fortified with tea, the Prime Minister welcomed me and said many nice things about my husband which were pleasant to hear.

On our return I tried to prepare a speech and before I knew it I had barely time to get ready to dine with many of the government officials as well as some of our own diplomatic, consular and military people. I always like to discover native dishes in any new country which I visit and I had a delightful soup made of mussels and some delicious whitebait which is smaller than any which I have ever seen at home.

The grounds about this house are lovely. The daffodils are in bloom. There are curious dark pine trees, many evergreens and palm trees. I am told that they are not called palms here but cabbage trees.

A very moving little ceremony took place this afternoon when representatives of an organization of disabled war veterans accompanied by Mr. Nash, New Zealand Ambassador to the United States, presented me with a lovely necklace made by the veterans. It is made of silver and polished shell of beautiful colors. It is token of the disabled veterans’ understanding and sympathy for the women of the United States who must suffer and wait side by side with the women of New Zealand for news of their men fighting side by side in distant parts of the world. When I get home, I must have this necklace put on exhibition somewhere so that many women may see what lovely work these disabled men have learned to do.

On Sunday morning, we visited the American naval hospital. Silverstream, as it is called, is on high ground overlooking a stream and surrounded by hills. They have a few wounded men but the great majority of cases are malaria.

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September 2, 1943

Wellington, New Zealand – (delayed)
As I went through the wards of one of the New Caledonia hospitals, I came to a man with his right arm gone, but he was not downhearted. “I can tie my tie with my left hand already,” he said. He knew that he was started on the long trip homeward and he could go on with his job. His next words took my breath away, however:

I come from Dutchess County, Poughkeepsie, New York, and when you get home tell the boys at the toll booth on Mid-Hudson Bridge that you saw Nick.

So, now my fellow townsmen, I am telling you and please give him a warm welcome for he’s a brave man.

Next, I found myself talking to a former miner from near Scranton, Pennsylvania, and what he feels about Mr. John L. Lewis I would regret to have him feel about anyone else. I rather think his feelings are representative of those of the vast majority of men over here. He had no resentment towards the miners themselves. They were his people and they didn’t understand. But against the leadership imposed on them, he was plenty bitter.

These boys don’t worry about themselves unless they are just facing some loss and haven’t had time to pull themselves together. But one very badly wounded man, with one eye gone and a bad head wound and other injuries, had slow tears running down his cheek. He said:

I’m not wondering about me, but I’m wondering about all my buddies.

To my surprise as I went into a Red Cross Club for servicemen, I saw a young lieutenant whom I knew, and almost simultaneously met Mr. Robert Atmore, formerly a master at Choate School and now here for the Red Cross.

The men all tell me that one of the curious things about the war is the way your friends turn up at unexpected times. This is especially true of flyers, who certainly get about. I’ve signed “short snorters” with bills attached that seemed to me to cover about every corner of the world.

As we travelled from place to place in New Caledonia, we passed many trucks loaded with men from every branch of the service, both white and colored. I tried to wave to them and say hello, and was much amused to hear behind me on occasion, “Hello Eleanor!”

The MPs, who have been constantly on the jump looking after us wherever we went, had tacked up in their office a cartoon where the fat lady tells her husband that she thinks I’ve still covered a few more miles than my husband has. I’m quite sure the MP’s thought I had covered them all in one day on New Caledonia.

Adm. Halsey’s house boys had arranged flowers very beautifully. New Caledonia is a land where flowers grow abundantly, so even in the midst of war, one may enjoy color, fragrance and charming arrangements. These boys were especially nice to me and brought me a breakfast tray with a rose in my finger bowl and little bouquets to wear. They stood patiently waiting for me to sign their cards with a smile always on their faces.

Each time I came back to the Air Transport Command ship, I got a thrill of pride as I looked at the ship and realized its speed and capacity for transport. It means an increased delivery of all the necessities of war and a greatly improved mail service, which is of such importance to the men. Without this service, the war would not be going so well today.

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September 3, 1943

Auckland, New Zealand – (Sept. 2)
We had our breakfast on the train yesterday morning and were allowed just time enough to leave our bags at the officers’ club in the Grand Hotel, before we started at 8:35 to visit a U.S. naval mobile hospital. This hospital has the kind of record which makes us proud of our efficiency, and so I am going to give you its history.

On June 9, 1942, it left New York and on July 11, 1942 it arrived in Wellington, New Zealand. On July 19, 1942 it arrived at Auckland and on July 20 construction began. By August 16th they had completed more than 40 buildings to house 250 members of the staff and personnel and 380 patients, with all facilities for feeding. I should explain here that some buildings were brought with the unit but many of local construction have been added since. New Zealand workmen worked very hard, but even the doctors took a hammer in hand, because our men were going into Guadalcanal and this was the second hospital in this area and had to be ready to care for our wounded.

On August 20, 366 severe battle casualties were received from the first naval battle for Guadalcanal. From that day to August 20, 1943, this hospital has handled over 15,000 patients with only 18 deaths. The present normal capacity of the hospital is 1,150, and in an emergency 1,800. The administration also controls 1,160 beds for convalescents. Some of the convalescents are housed at a race track under the spectator stands, and I know you would be as surprised as I was to see how comfortable these quarters are. I need hardly say that when a race is run the boys have a wonderful day.

Our party ate in the men’s mess at noon yesterday and the food seemed to me very good. They put fresh milk in large pitchers on all tables. This country has good rich milk, which our boys seem to appreciate. I am giving you here a sample of one of the day’s menus, because I know that every woman wonders whether her son, husband or sweetheart in a hospital is getting good food and enough of it.

Breakfast consisted of assorted fruits, assorted dry cereals, eggs, creamed ham on toast, hash brown potatoes and hot biscuits. For dinner they had beef and vegetable broth, grilled steak and gravy, creamed whipped potatoes, spanish string beans, creamed cauliflower, vegetable salad, assorted pie, diced cheese and ice cream. The supper menu had pepper pot soup, braised lamb cubes with gravy, cranberry sauce, lima beans, chopped silver beets, wilted lettuce salad, jelly and whipped cream. You will agree, I am sure, that on such a diet any patient should put on weight.

At 12:30, a civic reception was held in Town Hall. These gatherings are very impressive and fill me with awe, for the mere presence of so many people is evidence that they are honoring not an individual but a country and its elected ruler. My part dwindles to nothing, except as I am able to embody in what I say something of the goodwill which we at home feel towards all people of the United Nations with whom we stand side by side today.

In the afternoon we visited successively, a Red Cross Service Club, which has seen half a million men pass through its doors since it opened. The outstanding thing to me is how such a small number of American Red Cross Personnel with New Zealand volunteers ever has done the work and met the needs of the great number of men in this area. Then we went to two rest homes, both run by Red Cross, where young flyers come to rest in great numbers, as well as men from other branches of the service. At 4:00 we went to a tea at Government House, the Auckland home of the Governor General, which he has donated as a club for the Allies. The last thing was a dance run by Red Cross in the evening at Town Hall, at which Artie Shaw’s orchestra gave everyone much pleasure.

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September 4, 1943

Auckland, New Zealand – (Sept. 3)
As the days go by, I realize that a diary such as I have been writing, has in it many repetitions. Wherever I am, there are military hospitals, rest homes, Red Cross Clubs, canteens, hospital services and handcraft work. But if I did not tell you about these things, I would not be giving you a picture of one part of the life which I am seeing in this area.

On the other hand, there are many fine-looking boys, both from the United States and New Zealand, who are strong and healthy and undergoing a most strenuous training for future encounters with the enemy. The countryside is suitable for this, since what they call here the “bush” is good training ground for any jungle. Every now and then I have to smile when I think of people who thought that a younger generation was growing up at home and, in fact, in many countries, which could not meet physical hardships.

Let me assure you that no pioneers ever were sturdier than this generation. In addition, I must pay tribute to their fortitude in pain and discomfort. Invariably a sick boy will say, “I’m getting on fine.” He will be lying on a cotton mattress, sometimes over wooden slats. Springs are made of strategic material and I have come to count springs on beds as luxury, which they really are in these islands. At least, I thought, this cheerfulness might be put on for me, so I asked one of the nurses last night and she said they were so glad to get here that she never heard a boy complain.

My admiration for the Navy and Army nurses and for the Red Cross personnel grows daily. A young woman is club supervisor in New Zealand, a Miss Leota Kelley. I felt quite sure that I had met her before and she told me that I had met her in Des Moines, Iowa. She seems to me very capable and I think she could be very persuasive. That is important, for she must get the cooperation of Army, Navy and Marine Corps officers to do a good job for the men.

In one hospital, yesterday, I saw a boy who is recuperating well, although his foot is still bandaged and he used a cane. He is the son of Capt. Edward MacCauley of the Maritime Commission. Mr. Maury Maverick’s son also spoke to me as I was coming out of a meeting the other day. He looked well and happy when I promised to tell his family that I had seen him. I am constantly finding people who are our son, Jimmy’s, friends out here. Yesterday, in a hospital, I saw three of the boys from the last group of raiders he had commanded. They at once asked about him and were pleased to hear that he was back on duty in another area and had taken part in some of the recent activities there which have been so successful.

In talking to one of the men yesterday, I asked if there was anything he would especially like to know about in the United States and he answered:

Yes, I wish you could tell me about my girl. I think about her more than about anything else out here.

I wish I could bring this particular kind of news, but since I can’t, I am telling you girls at home so you won’t forget what your letters mean out here, and how hungry boys are for news from you.

I saw a wonderful Army hospital today, which has the light and cheer one always likes to find in any hospital. We also visited a hospital for New Zealand soldiers. A service club for the Women’s Military Services was on our itinerary and I found that they also entertained many of our men, as well as their own. We visited the Navy yard and a canning factory, where some 400 girls are at work. Much of their production now goes to our armed forces and they confided in me that they were making corned beef hash with potatoes and onions just to please our taste.

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September 6, 1943

Canberra, Australia – (delayed)
There is a curious sense of excitement about seeing a continent for the first time when you never really expected to see it. It seemed so improbable to me that I would ever take this trip, that I still feel a little as though I were in a dream world.

My first glimpse of Australia was its wooded and indented shore with fine sand beaches, and here and there rocks and high cliffs. Our glimpse of Sydney was from the air, except for a brief stop at the airport for weather reports. Then we went on to Canberra. The Governor General and Lady Gowrie, the Prime Minister and many Commonwealth Ministers and their wives met us at the airport. A larger group of camera men faced us than I had ever seen, even at home.

I inspected the RAAF guard of honor, commanded by Flt. Lt. Cowley, and then we drove to Government House, passing through the Military College, which was established by Lord Kitchener and modeled after our West Point. I was interested also to learn that this capital city was planned by an American. Later the Prime Minister told me at dinner that the federal sphere was greatly influenced by Alexander Hamilton’s ideas.

It would seem that the United States and Australia had many reasons to be similar. Certainly, parts of our country resemble this country. Mr. Curtin told me that he had recently been on what we would call a ranch, which extended over 30,000 square miles. I don’t know whether even Texas could do better than that, and I know that my son, who owns a ranch there, is going to be jealous.

Once arrived in this hospitable house we had tea, and then I said a few words on the radio and saw the press. They are full of questions here and I recognized at once a woman correspondent, who has been in Washington, and one of our army correspondents. He reminded me that he had last interviewed me in Phoenix, Arizona, adding that on that day he had scarcely expected that our next meeting would be out here.

News has come through that the 8th Army has landed in Italy and we are all anxiously waiting for further details. The Russians also seem to be steadily advancing. How times have changed in the space of one year, and yet we must not relax in any of our war efforts, since all of us desire to shorten the war and the only way to do so is to increase our shipping capacity and our production of planes, munitions and our trained fighting men.

Last night I was fortunate enough to see Judge Patterson and Gen. Knudsen and their party. I sensed that they were impressed by what they had seen.

When you are at home this whole theatre of war seems very far away. It is not until you get here that you realize what a colossal job our men have done and what difficulties of transportation have had to be overcome, without taking into account the hard, desperate fighting which had to go on at the same time. Talk to any servicemen who did the first magnificent job out here, and they will say how different things are now. Airmen will tell you that they notice a great difference in the flow of supplies.

It must have been bad for everyone when they had to try to do too much with too little. I hope I shall see some of the Australian men as well as our own while I am here, for I have always had such admiration for the fighting record they established in the last war and to which they have added so much in this war.