I have a large batch of WWII letters between my grandparents Maurice and Mildred Mara scanned and archived, and occasionally I poke through the hundreds of pages looking for bits of info about the experience to follow up on. My grandfather describes movies he watched, places he went, assignments he had, people he interacted with and other various feelings and details about his war experiences.
I recently noticed that on Christmas Day, 1944, my grandfather (who was in the Coast Guard) along with his ship was docked in Long Beach, CA. According to this letter, written later in the day, he set out by himself early that morning on a lonely walk about town, trying to find a Catholic church to attend on his free day:
He mentions a “St. Anthony’s” church, and the internet almost immediately revealed to me the location of the church, along with detailed information about it. A PDF church newsletter I found confirmed my grandfather’s account of the church having been damaged in a 1933 earthquake, and offered a historical photo of the church (though taken a decade earlier, it still looked the same at the time of his visit in 1944):
A Google satellite view shows the (later renovated) church in context with its immediate neighborhood:
Based on my grandfather’s description of his search for a church and where large ships tended to dock, I believe I pieced together an overview of his approximate walk from Terminal Island at the left of this satellite view to the church in Long Beach’s East Village on the right (quite a hike!):
Ironically, decades later I would visit the same area on various occasions (Long Beach Aquarium, Queen Mary, Catalina Island ferry terminal, etc.) having no idea my grandfather passed though the very same area as a 27-year old serviceman.
That same Christmas Day, 1944, my grandmother was back in Jersey City on the opposite side of the country writing her own letter…:
Which raises a good question: My grandfather found a church, but couldn’t find a phone-? I’m not sure how long-distance calls worked in those days, so I can’t judge the situation too harshly. I do know that on December 26, my grandfather wrote my grandmother (as he did quite often), having just received her letter of December 16-17. My grandfather’s December 27th letter was going to have to wait to be mailed until his ship reached Pearl Harbor, so they were having an ongoing delayed conversation for most of the war.
Here’s how my grandmother looked that Christmas of 1944. Thanks to the war, I have a wonderful archive of letters and photos that would not have otherwise been sent and saved.
