Got to Go Now
An Oregon GI Writes Home During World War II
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This book is a father-son project. Well, actually it’s more of a father-son/son-father project. The letters are from my dad, Edsel Colvin to his dad, Frank Colvin from the time Edsel graduated from high school in 1941 until he got out of the Army in 1945. Dad’s letters follow a small-town Oregon boy from his idyllic summer job as a fire lookout overlooking the Pacific in the Coast Range in 1941, where he was alone for weeks at a time, to the bitter French winter of 1944-45 when he saw his first combat and a fortuitous, but painful, hospital stay. They continue after the end of the war in Europe in May through the summer of 1945, when he was sweating out whether he was going to be sent to fight the Japanese in the Pacific Theater. They end in the fall of 1945 with his long-awaited discharge from the Army in Texas and his return to civilian life in Gold Beach. I always knew about Dad's letters from the ‘40s, but they were tucked away in the basement behind the water heater. He hardly ever talked about his experiences in the war when I was little, but I did get to see (and play with) some of the stuff he brought home from Germany. I was the only kid on my block who had a real German helmet when I played army with my friends in the hills behind our house on Sixth Street in Gold Beach. An article about my parents in the Curry County (OR) Reporter in the Spring of 2000 reminded me that Dad’s letters still existed and that they should see the light of day again. (Dad was an unofficial war correspondent for the Reporter during his time on the front lines; Grandpa would take letters down to the Reporter office and they were printed in a war news column.) I asked Dad if I could transcribe them; that was the start of typing a shoebox full of 300 or so letters into the computer. It was also the start of a lot of emails, phone calls, and conversations between Dad and me about the letters. I wanted to know more about, for example, the lookouts, or some of the combat experiences that didn’t make it into his heavily censored wartime letters. I learned a lot about my father while I worked with his letters. I learned that he was smart and he worked hard, a powerful combination that served him well in college and in the Service, and later as a father, teacher, principal and superintendent of schools in Gold Beach. I learned that he was a dutiful son and brother, writing weekly and sometimes daily to his father and sisters, especially during the periods when his life was in danger, letting them know what he was doing and how he was feeling and telling them not to worry. I learned that he could face danger and not run away from it. I learned that even through some of the roughest times he could usually see some humor in a situation or at least a recognition of "that's just the way it is, so let's get on with things." I learned that he is a survivor and that he had more than his fair share of good luck. You can't make it through several winter months as an infantryman (read "foot soldier") on the front lines in France and Germany, without being a survivor. You can’t have a bad case of hemorrhoids and get sent to the hospital at the exact instant that the Germans start their massive last gasp attempt at winning the war, the famous Battle of the Bulge offensive, and not say you’re lucky. "In my platoon there were six killed, four captured, and 10 wounded during two days of action," he wrote after his release from the hospital. I also learned why our family hardly ever went camping. Dad must have had his fill of sleeping on the ground during the mid-1940s. These letters show an average citizen soldier’s life. There is not much in the way of graphic accounts of a front-line soldier’s life or precise military accounts of every move that his squad made. Once he was on his way overseas, all his letters were censored for any sensitive military information. "Loose lips sink ships" was the thinking during those times. There are a couple letters where portions were literally razor-bladed out by his censor, apparently because they gave too much detail about his platoon’s whereabouts or doings. There are what we now call politically incorrect expressions, like Japs, Dagos, Jerries, and Krauts. These were common expressions of the times and are left intact. As Alvin Josephy Jr. says in The Long and the Short and the Tall, "In the war years it was different. The use of such terms was part of our daily life, and . . . I hope that today’s reader will view their use now only as a part of history." Most of the letters are printed without any editing, but some, especially during the University of Oklahoma period, have been shortened. It has been a pleasure and an honor to work with Dad’s letters. Although this book is primarily for family, I hope others will also enjoy it. Paul Colvin
November 2001
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About the Book
This book is a father-son project. Actually it’s more of a father-son/son-father project. The letters are from Edsel Colvin to his dad, Frank Colvin from the time Edsel graduated from high school in 1941 until he got out of the Army in 1945. Most of the comments, introductions to chapters, and sidebars are also from Edsel to his son, Paul Colvin, most of them in response to questions about the original letters. These comments and other items are in italics throughout the book. Edsel’s letters follow a small-town Oregon boy from his idyllic summer job as a fire lookout overlooking the Pacific in the Coast Range in 1941, where he was alone for weeks at a time, to the bitter French winter of 1944-45 when he saw his first combat and a fortuitous, but painful, hospital stay. They continue after the end of the war in Europe in May through the summer of 1945, when he was sweating out whether he was going to be sent to fight the Japanese in the Pacific Theater. They end in the fall of 1945 with his long-awaited discharge from the Army in Texas and his return to civilian life in Gold Beach.
About the Author
Edsel Vincent Colvin was born on May 30, 1923 to Frank and Estella Jane Miller Colvin in Gold Beach, Oregon. His paternal grandparents were Henry "Sam" Colvin and Miriam Dougherty Colvin. He was the youngest of four children (Aina, Juanita, and Marjorie) and many aunts, uncles, and grandparents were involved in his early upbringing. He went through the public schools in Gold Beach, and was the first and only person at Gold Beach High School to be elected president of the student body twice. After graduating from Gold Beach High School in 1941, he spent a summer as a fire lookout on Rocky Peak, about seventeen miles north of Gold Beach. He entered Pacific University, where World War II cut his studies short. He served in the Army in France and Germany as an infantryman on the front lines and eventually made his way back to Oregon after the war. From his graduation to the end of the war, he wrote over 300 letters to his family. He entered the University of Oregon in Eugene in 1946 and graduated in 1948 with a degree in Business Administration. He returned to Gold Beach as a teacher at the high school, married Frances Lea Pennington later that year, and had three children (Penny, Cathy, and Paul) in the next few years. During the summers in the late 50s and early 60s, Edsel took classes at the University of Oregon and got a Master's Degree in Education as well as his school administrator's certification. In 1963 he became superintendent-principal of Gold Beach Union High School and later superintendent of both the elementary and high school districts in Gold Beach. He has been retired for several years. He and Lea spend much of their time catching and smoking salmon and steelhead and visiting their children, who are now spread out around the state.