Letters Home

June 1944 was a very tense time for the world and for my family. D-Day, June 6, 1944, had finally happened. Our troops had gone ashore in Normandy for the long- awaited invasion of mainland Europe. My brother John was a Navy pilot flying shore patrols in PB4Ys (Army B-24s) on antisubmarine duty out of England. We worried about him constantly, especially because we had had no news from him in many days.

I, his younger sister, had graduated from Smith College three years before, with a major in geology and a minor in history. Thirty-six months later, I was newly graduated from Yale with a Masters Degree in Nursing. I had passed my physical exam for the Army Nurse Corps in the spring just before graduation.

In early June, I traveled to my parent’s home in Brattleboro, Vermont. They had moved to Vermont from Bristol, Connecticut in 1943 at my Dad’s retirement. I had grown up and been educated in Bristol and had gone from there to college and nurses’ training. Now Vermont was home and I arrived there with my graduate degree and my State of Connecticut nursing license in hand and began the wait for my orders. There were wars on two fronts, one in Europe, now in full swing, and the other in the Pacific where slowly, General Douglas MacArthur was beginning to retake the huge area under Japanese control.

In this tense time, I waited to be called to active duty. Despite my mother’s horror at my wanting to serve, I felt compelled to go to help. My orders finally came.

I remember my Dad coming in with the mail on June 13, 1944 and saying, “Lieutenant, your papers have come!” My heart began to pound. There was a long, neat, white envelope. I remember sitting in the living room on that sunny day unfolding my papers.

“I have to be sworn in!” I said, stupidly.

Dad grinned, “Come on, let’s go to the Postmaster.”

Off we went to the Postmaster, and I was duly sworn in as a Second Lieutenant in the Army Nurse Corps. Mom and Dad were proud. I was so excited. When I arrived home, there in the window next to my brother’s was another Service Star ... a six-inch by six-inch white tile with a red inch-wide border and a blue star in the white center. This was for me! I was touched.

Next day another formidable envelope arrived. It was very heavy. I opened it. On the top was printed, “RESTRICTED” in red ink. I looked at the first paragraph and gulped in confusion. I tried again but ended up knowing two things. I was to report for active duty to Fort Devens in Ayer, Massachusetts on June 21, 1944, as 2nd Lt. Sally B. Hitchcock - ANC, N-752998.

And so it was, on June 21, 1944 I was on my way. My Mom and Dad borrowed gas coupons to drive me from Brattleboro to Greenfield, Massachusetts where I boarded the train to Ayer, Massachusetts, the site of Fort Devens.

This was a highly significant time in my life. I was going to my very first job as a graduate nurse. I was 25 years old and had been in school for the past 19 years of my life. I was excited and determined to use all my training to help mend as many injured men and women as I could, and help them come home to their families and loved ones. So many of my friends were serving. It was a personal goal and a promise!

As I sat in that old railroad car (WWI vintage), with its green plush seats and no air conditioning, I was terribly aware of how hard this leave-taking was for my Mom and Dad. My brother John was somewhere in Europe. I was going to be somewhere else. Neither of my parents was young anymore.

The train puffed along and I kept saying to myself, in time to the clicking rails, “I want to go, I want to go.” Whether I sat next to anyone else I can’t recall, but I remember I tried to read “Taps for Private Tussie.”

I blotted my damp hands. I looked out at the bright, cloudless June day at the cozy farms and small homes neatly placed in their space and I said to myself “Calm down, you sissy. Read your book and relax!”

A soldier walked down the aisle for water. “Should I ask him how far Ayer is?”

“Sit tight,” I said to myself, “You’ll find out soon enough!”

“Ayer and Fort Devens!” the conductor called as his head appeared for a moment at the front door of the car. That was my stop!

Slowly, I got my bag and pocketbook and stepped off. Now where? I looked around and saw nothing there. A sign with a single word caught my eye ... “INFORMATION.” What a wonderfully warm word that was. I went over and asked the woman how to get to Fort Devens. “Which department?” she asked. I wasn’t sure. She suggested I take a taxi.

No taxis...I stood waiting. On the platform, a sergeant was lining men up for a bus. “There’s where I should be,” I thought,” behind those new Army recruits.” A man came up to me from his parked station wagon. He was a sergeant with the nicest face, graying hair and he said with a smile, “You look lost. May I help you?” The station wagon said Fort Devens, USA. I told him my quandary and he laughed.

“Come with me, Lieutenant, I’m going right up there.” Such relief I’ve never known. We drove off and with a smile and a flourish of orders we sailed through gates and up to the location on my orders. “You wait