World War II contains some of history’s most famous and bloodiest battles. But one battle that is often overlooked in the history books is the battle of Attu. Fought on the freezing shores of the Aleutian islands, American and Canadian forces battled to take back American territory that had been seized in one of the first invasions of the United States since the war of 1812. The cold, damp conditions made frostbite just as much of a threat as Japanese artillery.
The battled ended when Japanese soldiers charged through American lines, in a last stand that included furious hand-to-hand combat. All but 30 Japanese soldiers fought to the death.
The third episode of the “Letters From War” podcast contains Ralph Eyde’s account of fighting in that battle with the 7th Infantry Division. He received a Purple Heart for his bravery, even as his unit was sent straight on to train for their next battle.
Frank, the oldest of the Eyde brothers, begins fighting a different kind of battle. After his experience fighting at Tulagi, he was on his way home to get treated for malaria and jaundice, when he began experiencing paranoia.
At the time, what he had was diagnosed as “combat fatigue” and then later, schizophrenia. PTSD wouldn’t be recognized until decades later, and the letters Frank writes in this episode and the next show how little the lasting effects of war were understood.
In this episode, Frank and Ralph are fighting different types of battles, unaware of the even worse battles that lie ahead for them.
—-
Listen to this episode
Subscribe to or follow the series: Apple Podcasts | Stitcher | Online
FULL TRANSCRIPT:
Thanks for listening to “Letters From War.” A note to listeners: Some of the letters included in this series contain racist and pejorative language, including in regards to Japanese and German troops, and descriptions of war that may be upsetting to some listeners.
RALPH EYDE: Thursday, April 8, 1943, 7pm
Dear Johnny,
Just was handed your very interesting letter and was glad to hear that you’ll be at Camp Grant for awhile. That’s the ticket. See Lt. Col. Walsh about an airplane mechanic job, cause that’s the best bet today and take my word for it. I knew you’d pass everything okay – a lad with your physique couldn’t miss.
Things move pretty fast out here and no telling how long I’ll be here, but for some time yet. Have had a lot of false alarms and the only time I’ll believe I’m on my way will be if I’m at sea for more than 20 days. A fellow has to be cool all the time. I used to be pretty cool on the pitching mound and still manage to take it easy.
Knowing I won’t be in States much longer and probably won’t have a chance to tell you by letter in the near future, but we’re one of these outfits who make beach landings in the middle of the night on the roughest coastlines possible and seize airports, railroads, cities, and enemy coast defenses. The allies are going to move soon and the Lucky 7 will be leading the way and it may be to Japan itself.
Have Ma hang three stars in the window now that there’s three of us in. A
If you hear of a big new offense in the Pacific or Europe you can be sure the Pulp will be in there outpitching the Axis. But then again, I most likely will never even see a slant-eye.
Enclosed is a code I made up and if I do leave I’ll let you all know where I’m going there by means of this code.
Always thinking of all of you and there’s no better father, mother or brothers in the world than at 2310. And maybe at times we don’t express much sentiment, but deep down in my heart all the money couldn’t buy anyone better than little Musha, Dad, Sanny, Johnny and Frank. No siree.
So long again, and until again real soon, and don’t worry about me. See you pronto via letters.
Pitcher
Here’s a list of possible places and the name behind them. So if any mail is censored (like Frank’s) be sure to look for any of the following.
Bantams means I’m in Britain
Chickens means in China
Turkins in India
Kittens in Burma
Hens in North Africa
Roosters in Russia
Violin in France
New Radio in Norway
Camera in Alaska
Dog in Solomons
Garden in East Indies
Typewriting in Spain
Ducks in Australia
Geese in Hawaii
Cow in any other point I haven’t mentioned.
—
DAN LAMOTHE: Ralph, the former star pitcher. The lucky one of the four.
The Battle of Attu began May 11, 1943.
Ralph arrived with the 7th Infantry Division on the muddy, freezing shores of the Aleutian Islands.
They were fighting to take back American territory.
Japanese soldiers had landed there six months after the attack on Pearl Harbor, taking control of the islands of Kiska and Attu.
It was one of the first invasions of American territory since the War of 1812.
NEWS CLIP: … United States forces move in to drive Japanese from rocky, fogbound Attu, strategic island in the Aleutian chain. Troops waiting for the zero hour. Time to go over the side.
LAMOTHE: Attu is barren and brutal.
The winds regularly blow more than 50 miles per hour.
The men fought through freezing, drenching rains and snow, hunting for the Japanese enemy’s deeply entrenched positions.
The soldiers of Ralph’s division were unprepared for just long the battle would take and how harsh the weather would be. Frostbite and exposure were just as much of a threat as a Japanese bullet.
It was early in the battle when a shell exploded 15 feet from Ralph, leaving him with a shrapnel wound to the head.
He shrugged off the injury and stayed in the fight another 18 days.
In his eyes, other soldiers in his unit had suffered far worse.
RALPH EYDE: Dear Mother, Dad, Frank and Sanny,
Was in battle against the Japs and we really knocked them out. It’s all over now, but it’s a big step toward that final victory. If the people back home ever have any doubts about the fighting caliber of its soldiers, they want to see to see this outfit in action and I can assure you that all their doubts would be erased.
It was a rugged struggle and all the weather in the world couldn’t hold us back. The Jap is a cunning fighter, full of tricks, but we hadn’t been training for nothing, so we knew just what to look for. Their snipers were always busy, but once one of the boys located him, his sniping days were over.
A foxhole doesn’t look like a pleasant place to live in, but in battle it’s the only way to live. Our battalion covered more ground and fought against greater odds than any other American unit in this fight and received citation in view of that. We’re all glad it’s over now and it seems like a luxurious life compared to the days of battle. But I’ll never forget the boys who gave their lives for the greatest nation on earth, the good ol’ U.S.A., nor the heroic deeds of the officers and men, nor the fighting conditions that we had to overcome.
Food and clothing left behind by the Japs was a lifesaver when it was impossible to get some of our own supplies at times on account of the terrain.
I’m in for the purple heart medal along with 4 others in the company.
Lots of love to you all,
Ralph
LAMOTHE: Much to Ralph’s unit’s disappointment, they were not sent home after the battle.
Instead, they were sent to Hawaii for jungle warfare training.
Ralph was going right back into the thick of it.
It was Frank who headed home, instead.
Having survived the battle at Tulagi, he contracted malaria and jaundice in the Pacific and was sent back to the United States for treatment.
He had a 30-day furlough to go home to Rockford and was looking forward to seeing his Chicago Cubs play baseball.
And then, on his way home, in the middle of the famous Navy pier in Chicago, he froze. He just stopped dead in his tracks.
He didn’t know what was wrong or why everyone was watching him.
Authorities found him confused and restless. He was having some sort of paranoid episode.
Instead of allowing him to continue home, the Marine Corps sent him to a military hospital north of Chicago. They wanted him under close observation.
—
NEWS CLIP: For every four men wounded, one soldier will become a psychiatric casualty. Such men may be shaking or crying, but more often they are just very tired and dirty and depressed. Courage, pride and loyalty to their comrades support them in battle, but there are fierce demands upon their emotional resources.
FRANK EYDE: July 9, 1943, Ward #91 South
Dear Mother,
Arrived in Chicago to report into the Naval Hospital at Great Lakes, where I am stationed for treatment. Tell Dad I wish I could of made the grade home, but hospital care comes first.
Thinking always of you,
Corporal Frank Eyde
Ward #91 South
FRANK: July 11, 1943
Dear Musha,
I am still here at the U.S. Naval Hospital being watched over by some experts in the art of bringing one back to normal.
I needed a short rest for my nerves were kind of jittery. I have been looking to the bright side of life and everything is going to turn out alright. Where there is a will there is a way.
Is Dad still kicking those chubby legs around and smoking his five cent cigars?
FRANK: July 15, 1943
Dear Dad,
Thanks for coming to see me yesterday, it sure helps to know everything is fine at home. How about sending some of those Rockford newspapers in a bundle so I can keep up with local news too?
I have been reading a lot and writing letters, as you can see. Gee it was too bad Musha had gone to so much trouble to greet my homecoming, but it won’t be long before I see the good old homestead again.
Everything is swell here. The food is good and the beds soft and comfortable. I miss my hiking and fresh air.
Tell Sanford to keep trying to get me a line and explain how sorry I am not for coming straight home.
Keep up that courage. Keep smiling.
Love, your son,
Frank
SANFORD EYDE: July 19, 1943
My Dear Geometry Expert,
It’s about time I dropped you a line, I know.
Let us know soon enough in advance when you will be heading home and for how long, since I must notify the boss in ample time so I can get my two weeks at the proper time.
We’ll all go over to the movies, on hikes, to Big League games and the other attractions in the Windy City. We’ll play catch and pepper and hit flyballs. Yes sir, a grand time is within your reach.
However, I leave you free to be your own judge in regards to this since you know yourself better than anyone else knows you. Same holds true for me or any other person. Always remember that.
By all means this is not my intention to get you all petered out. This is supposed to be a vacation, not work. We shall take things easy and recuperate under the shade of old apple tree, sipping cool lemonades.
Or rather, you sit under the tree and I will sit under the open sky and let the sunshine strike me. You can imagine how transparent and waxen a person looks after being cooped up in a working quarter where there are no windows.
I sincerely believe you will come to a lot faster in the backyard than where you now are – provided you won’t be needing any treatment such as quinine, etc.
You have to be thankful that physically you are okay. That is the main thing: you are okay.
If you decide not to come home, believe me, it won’t make a particle of difference to me, because I shall remember that you do what is the best for you, which in turn is the best for us.
Still no work from Ralph.
It’s after 10 now so I will close this letter.
As ever, intellectually yours,
Sanford
—-
JOHN EYDE: July 22, 1943
Dear Frank,
How are you feeling today Frank?
Am still waiting for the wire from home telling of you arrival and then I shall put my propaganda machine into motion and get me a furlough, heh heh!
Hope to see you soon, will sign off now for school.
Hasta luego, adios,
John E.
JOHN: July 30, 1943
Dear Dad,
Am still waiting for the good news about Frank’s home coming, and will act accordingly.
Just got back from school and am now working on the famous Rolls Royce engines and am taking it all in! Yes indeedy.
Italy sure is out of the war soon and things look mighty good all over!
Did a good trick last night, I saw a big toad hopping around, I put my cap over him and brought him in the barracks and sneakedly put him under the covers of one of the barrack mates.
A few saw me and got a kick out of it, then we were all waiting for the victim to come in.
He finally came.
We kept quiet and watched him go over to his bunk, heh heh.
His eyes popped out when he saw something crawl around under his cover.
He said in astonishment, “What the hell is that?”
Did we ever get a big laugh out of his expressions, heh heh.
I’m still the same old teaser ain’t I?
All for now, more later,
Lots of love,
John
SANFORD: Feb. 5, 1944
My Dear Ralph,
Just finished eating supper. We eat the best there is as you no doubt know. We hear quite regularly from the Swearer and the Salesman as well as from Pitchy.
I will probably receive another deferment. My city slicker lease expired Jan 27th but I am still in 2B.
Dad is fiddling around, evening up tonight’s papers. Musha is in the kitchen jabbering at Dad. I sit here at Dad’s desk in the front room from where I will soon see him dozing and falling closer and closer to the table.
Am now reading “Physics,” a 486 page book by Tower, Smith, Turton and Cope. Frank has read “The Robe” and is now on the “39 Steps.”
The Salesman realizes that it doesn’t pay to come all the way home from Indiana only to have to return in less than 12 hours. That is the way to figure it. Wait until a leave of a few days is granted before venturing homeward.
Will retire at 7:30 tonight, so I will close this brief epistle by wishing you the best of success and health.
As ever,
Sig
—
LAMOTHE: Sanford, — the second oldest brother — was initially classified by the military as 2B.
Deferred from serving to support war production.
Later letters say he was designated with a 4F status — not qualified to serve for mental or physical reasons.
It was something the family tried to keep quiet.
And it may have been part of the reason that, as Frank’s mental state worsened, Sanford remained his touchpoint — the one he communicated with the most.
And Frank’s mental state WAS worsening.
He wrote to his family about coming home, and never made it —
FRANK: Dear Sanford,
That game East played must have been a peach. I’ll try to see Purdue and Indiana play Saturday and get a pass to come home for the weekend. It’s tough to get any liberty from our commanding officer. Will try to get Thanksgiving or a later date, so I can see John anyway.
LAMOTHE: He’d go out drinking instead.
FRANK: … on account of no weekend passes. I spent the weekend with a soldier and two of his girlfriends …
LAMOTHE: He was court-martialed after taking an unauthorized absence from the base.
Then he was demoted.
FRANK: … I spent a good weekend dancing and relaxing down here. I saw John just a few months ago…
LAMOTHE: He went from sending money home to asking for money to cover his partying, and the fines he accrued.
FRANK: I’m trying to get a weekend pass so I can see you all again, maybe. Will you send me a 10 spot by Western Union so I can get it Saturday afternoon? Run short on account of bonds and fines. Need cash for chow and laundry. Will pay it back soon. Keep smiling.
Love,
Frank
LAMOTHE: Frank described his ailment as jittery nerves.
The hospital called it combat fatigue, a common diagnosis for soldiers at the time.
Looking back, it seems obvious Frank was suffering from some form of post-traumatic stress.
But that diagnosis didn’t exist until the 1980s.
To his family, Frank underplayed the seriousness of his condition.
It was something he could snap out of with rest.
But Frank never snapped out of it.
Instead, as he continued to worsen, he was ordered from his base in Indiana to the naval hospital in Charleston, South Carolina.
There, he was given a new diagnosis. Schizophrenia.
—
Why do people respond so differently to the experience of war?
Frank, the oldest, the Marine, the one who started the war ready to take on the world?
By 1944, he was bouncing in and out of hospitals, battling serious mental health issues.
And Ralph, the star pitcher, always the lucky one?
After his first battle, he was cheered as a war hero with a Purple Heart.
He was the type of man they’d write articles about in his hometown newspaper. Someone who could make mom and dad, Musha and Borsk as the brothers called them, very proud.
And he already was training for another battle in the Pacific.
—
SANFORD: My dear Ralph,
It was last night, Feb. 16, that the casualty telegram came to us that you had been seriously wounded Feb. 4 at Kwajalein atoll in the Marshalls.
It could have been worse, and it was with that in mind that I told Musha and Borsk not to worry. Said that any guy who could pick other guys off second base like you did, one after another, was plenty quick-moving. Your ability in sports has been to your advantage in your most recent encounter.
May the Lord watch between me and thee while we are absent one from another. Amen.
Sigie