In the blue scrapbook that holds the letters from Matt, there are also a few postcards and 1940's style Christmas cards he received and saved. I imagine they meant a lot to him.
I don't know when this was sent or received. There was no envelope. I like to think Matt got it that last Christmas of his life and that he and Tommy found each other and shared war stories.
UNITED STATES NAVAL AIR STATION
N.O.B. NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
I've been in shit-city for over a month now and am anxious as all hell to see you. I'm on night check (1030 to 0200) go to the Assembly and Repair building V-28 find the ordnance shop 640 and ask them where I am. Right now I am working at final assembly in building V-90 it would be better if you came directly to V-90 and chance that I'd be around. During the day I'll be at Bks sp 68 over in Breezy Pt.
Matt, I am asking you to look me up because I don't know how to begin to find you. If I don't see you feller here's wishing you a merry Christmas.
The other has a simple Madonna and child on the front, old glue still holding the picture to a square of green. Facing the reader, it's impossible not to see the sadness in both faces. Opening the card, on the left is a poem, written by Joseph Dever, who served in World War II as well. On the right, is the following:
As My Christmas Gift to You
I have enrolled you
Jesuit Seminary Fund
from Christmas to Christmas
for a Remembrance in
73,000 Holy Masses
235,060 Holy Communions
308,060 Holy Rosaries
Monthly Novena Masses
Daily Prayers for Members
Carol For A Soldier
(Reprinted from America)
Come, oh come to me through snow,
And each with each we'll softly go,
Up to the church door,
Where the light,
Come unto the warming peace,
Let the drum and bugle cease,
Let the soldier still his gun,
And the driven hate be done.
Softly down the aisle we'll pass,
To the bosom of the Mass,
Flower love within your eyes,
Bring it where the small One lies.
See the huddled roof and wall,
See the ox steam in his stall;
Joseph stands and turns the wind,
There's the shepherd boy who grinned,
When a small Foot flung the straw,
There's the caught-look as he saw,
The frail maiden with a smile,
That the snow would defile.
And the small One thrashing there,
Launching straw in bumpy air;
Leave the steel and hobnail boots,
Leave the geared and clanking brutes,
Leave the siren, leave the 'plane,
Christ is come to earth again.
Softly, softly through the snow,
Each with each we'll softly go.