Dad was always proud of his 10th Mountain Division service.
Dad died on the anniversary of D-Day in 2014, and in the following year I discovered the 10th Mountain Division Descendants and Friends Facebook page, and through that group contacted Keli Schmid, the Archivist and Librarian of the 10th Mountain Division Resource Center at the Denver Public Library. She sent me a trove of documents in March 2016 about Dad's service, which I organized into a chronological narrative.
By a curious happenstance, I had visited the Library in the 1990s during a conference for ecumenical officers. As I wandered through the building, I turned a corner and suddenly an entire wing devoted to the 10th Mountain Division loomed before me— white winter clothing, skis and poles, rucksacks, weapons, sleds, and flags. I spent the rest of the afternoon there, taking it all in and thinking about Dad.
At the end of my tour I bought a slim 34-page booklet titled The Invisible Men on Skis: The Story of the Construction of Camp Hale and The Occupation by the 10th Mountain Division 1942-1945, but most of it was about Camp Hale and less than three pages covered the Italian Campaign.
In December 1996, Boys' Life had a 3-page article on the "Kings of the Mountains: When the going got tough in World War II, the U. S. Army called on its first soldiers on skis," but of the three pages, most of one page was a drawing.
In its January/February 2001 issue, the Dartmouth Alumni Magazine published a 5-page article on the "Mountain Men," but three of the pages were photographs. For me, its saving grace was a list of the 119 Dartmouth students and graduates who had served in the 10th, Dad among them. What a thrill to see his name in print!
Finally, in 2003, two excellent histories about the 10th Mountain Division were published— The Last Ridge: The Epic Story of America's First Mountain Soldiers and the Assault on Hitler's Europe and Climb to Conquer: The Untold Story of World War II's 10th Mountain Division Ski Troops, by McKay Jenkins and Peter Shelton, respectively.
Unfortunately, I didn't know about these books until after Dad died, and now I couldn't talk to him about them as a springboard to his telling me more about his experiences. I didn't read Climb until 2015, and Ridge until 2017.
To my disappointment, Dad didn't appear by name in either of them, although I realized he was one of thousands who served, and that a Private First Class soldier is an unlikely combatant to mention.
To my delight, Climb to Conquer mentions a Dartmouth student on page 1, the first of six Dartmouth references; and, more wonderfully, I read this passage in The Last Ridge:
"Communications during the attack [on Riva Ridge, February 18-25, 1945] would be a special challenge, since the need for silence made the nighttime use of radios out of the question. Just prior to the assault, a small advance party laid phone wire, concealed in the snow, from battalion command at Farne to all areas of departure. The plan was for a wire team to follow each column during the assault and provide hourly location reports back to command."
For the first time, I understood the context for my Dad's Bronze Star citation:
"James H. Roberts PFC, Infantry. 86th Mountain Infantry, United States Army,
"For meritorious service in combat on 19 Feb. 1945, near Farni [sic], Italy.
"When Private First Class Roberts was engaged in laying communication wire along a mountain ridge, the enemy infiltrated into the wire in which he was working. When he and his comrades were stopped by small arms fire they immediately attacked the infiltrating enemy, capturing eight prisoners. They then continued forward to complete their telephone lines, establishing communications at a time when the coordination and the direction of an attack depended on the completion of their mission. For his outstanding courage and devotion to duty Private First Class Roberts has earned the highest commendation and praise."
In the February 2018 Class of 1972 Newsletter, which I edit and publish, I started a series titled MILITARY SERVICE AND THE PARENTS OF THE CLASS OF 1972. In the May 2018 issue, I told Dad's story, based on all the information that Keli Schmid had sent me. To read his story, please click here.
Late last year I learned about a new book: The Winter Army: The World War II Odyssey of the 10th Mountain Division, America's Elite Alpine Warriors, by Maurice Isserman.
Having read the earlier books, which overlapped a lot, although each had its own perspectives and stories, I wasn't really interested in buying and reading it.
Then, on February 26, Bill Price, the president of our Dartmouth Class, emailed me:
"I'm reading a new book on the 10th Mountain Division, The Winter Army, and it mentions James H. Roberts. Your Dad?"
Me: "wow! really? Dad was with the 86th infantry regiment. He was with Company A, and then later 1st battalion, Headquarters Company. Private First Class. I already have 2 books and several monographs, so although I'd heard of The Winter Army, I wasn't going to buy it. However. . . if it looks like there was only one James H. Roberts in the Tenth, then I guess I'll spring for it!"
Bill Price: "Looks like one and the same. Quotes from one of his letters home. Near the end of the book. Enjoy!"
Me: "just ordered it, Bill! I don't know that any of his letters home were kept in our family. His 98-year-old sister is still alive, and she will be overwhelmed. How wonderful you're reading the book, and that you connected the possibility he might be my dad. How did you happen to come across the book?
Bill Price: "I think that I read a good review of it in the WSJ. I devour WW2 Pacific theater (where my grandfather served) and much of the European side, too, including role of the resistance. Cites your Dad's letter to his parents, Feb 24, 1945 in the '10th Mountain Division Personal Papers, Denver Public Library.' Perhaps a trip to Denver?"
The next day, February 27, I called Keli Schmid and asked her if she would be able to find Dad's letter and whether there might be anything else of his correspondence. She said she could see a couple of items, and she'd scan them and send them to me.
By the end of the day, she sent me this email with the two attachments:
"Hi Bill,
"It was great to hear from you today! I located the documents we spoke about earlier. One is the letter that Maurice Isserman referenced in his book and the other is a telegram to your dad when he was first drafted to the Army and accepted to the 10th Mountain Division by Stephen Hurlbut, Director of Personnel Selection with the National Ski Patrol."
First, here's the telegram:
The next day, February 28, I called Keli again.
First, I asked her whether ASN stood for Army Serial Number, and she confirmed that. I asked her what the IS following ASN meant, and she thought it was just an "is," as in "[Your] ASN is 36746915." That made sense because at the bottom of the telegram the IS was omitted, although the 5. after Dad's ASN puzzled her.
Second, I told her how astonished I was to see that Dad was expected at Fort Sheridan on May 5, the day I would be born seven years later!
And now for the letter (to see a larger version, please click here):
The big mystery is how this letter, which we know reached his parents because Dad's Mother wrote a little note on it, ended up in Denver.
As to her note, Grandma Roberts circled "softened" and commented "relieved? (word is not clear)." I can think of two possible explanations for her puzzlement.
By a slight altering, the sense of the sentence is made clearer: "Your letters, just arrived, softened the restlessness in my heart for a loving word from those I hold dearest."
Grandma may have wondered about the word "softness"; to me, it's the sort of poetic phrasing I've seen in Dad's letters. Grandma is certainly right that "relieved" is a similar if more prosaic synonym. But why add "(word not clear)" when the word "softened" is typed so clearly?
At the top left of the letter are the words "V Mail." The V stands for Victory, and Victory Mail was a solution to the problem of maintaining morale at the front and at home, and the sheer volume of mail between the fighters and their families and friends and sweethearts.
On February 28, I talked again with Keli Schmid, and afterward she sent me this email:
"I checked the files I told you about, but did not see any references to how we came to possess your grandmother's letter from your dad. Still a mystery. Here is the link, though, to my blog about V-Mail: https://history.denverlibrary.org/news/vi-victory-victory-mail.
When you see the examples, it's easy to understand how your grandmother may have had trouble deciphering your dad's handwriting, and why your grandparents may have wanted to type a copy for themselves."
Here's what Kelli wrote about V Mail; if you click on the link above you will see V Mail examples:
"During World War II, the U.S. Postal Service needed a way for bulky loads of mail to be delivered overseas quickly without sacrificing the shipment of supplies. The U.S. Government recognized the role letters from home played in boosting the morale of soldiers, so stopping the delivery of mail in favor of critical supplies was not an option. Thus, based on the British Airgraph Service, Victory Mail was born.
"Special stationery was printed— typically 8.5" x 11"— that could be folded into a self-contained envelope. Soldiers, friends, and family would fill out the front and back of the sheet, which was then photographed onto microfilm and sent abroad. Once the film made it overseas to a receiving station, letters were printed on 3"x 5" sheets and delivered in custom envelopes with windows that allowed the printed address to show through.
[Now you can understand why Grandma Roberts may have found that word "softened" unclear: Dad was a left-hander, taught to write with his right hand. Words reduced from letter size to index-card size would have challenged the person who transcribed it back to letter size!]
"Saving both space and weight, 1,600 letters could be contained on just one roll of film the size of a deck of cards. Two thousand pounds of letters in 37 mail bags could be reduced to just 20 pounds in one mail bag. Letters could be handwritten or typed, or stationery with pre-printed cartoons and holiday greetings could be purchased. Some stationery companies even produced special ink for writing legible V-Mail. Faint or small handwriting was not advised.
"In addition to easier transport, V-Mail added a level of security: spies could forget sending secret messages, because neither invisible ink nor microdots would show up on a photocopy.
"Of course, V-Mail still had to pass through the censors, so mail could arrive with sections blacked out.
[Dad wrote carefully to avoid the censor's black pen; he was smart as well as poetic!]
"Towards the end of World War II, use of V-Mail began to decline and microfilming ceased November 1, 1945."
If you click here, it will take you to the 10th Mountain Division webpage. Among many options, you can use the upper right Search bar to look for V Mail, or click on the Lookup Index and find Dad's name and that of all other 10th Mountain men.
Meanwhile, the day after I ordered The Winter Army, Amazon delivered it. The first thing I did was turn to the Index, and there it was on page 316: "Roberts, James H., 235." Wow!
When I turned to page 235, and found myself at the beginning of the Epilogue: "Among My Souvenirs," in the first paragraph:
"Among the souvenirs they brought back were alpini hats, Nazi flags, and German Lugers, although, contrary to legend, the famous Luger was not the most sought-after souvenir weapon; the men who knew their pistols preferred the Walther P38. Radioman James H. Roberts, HQ Company, 1st Battalion of the 86th, acquired one of the latter on Riva Ridge on February 19, 1945, and described it fondly in a letter home a few days later as "a beautiful weapon rated as the best in its class. It is shaped similarly to the German Luger but does not have the odd breech action."
Just today as I write this, I discovered a section of "Notes" near the end of the book. Among the entries for page 235:
"'a beautiful weapon': James H. Roberts to his parents, February 24, 1945, TMD309, 10th Mountain Division Personal Papers, 10th Mountain Division Papers, Denver Public Library."
Dad has indeed entered the history books! In the words of the 86th Regiment's motto, Dad has gone "Higher."
Postscript
After sending this off to my brothers and sisters, Judy wrote back to remind me that whenever Dad described disarming the enemy soldier and taking his gun, he always laughed because he was at a loss as to what to say to him— so he just said "Stick 'em up!"
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