Edward Martin’s letter to his wife started with “Dear Princess,” expressing concern for his “little pigeon” and revealing a deep longing for her.

He also mentioned their friend Walter, wondering about his short Army service: “He wasn’t in the Army very long, was he? Where was he killed?”

On April 23, 1945, as P-47 Thunderbolt fighter-bombers flew above him, Sgt. Martin penned a heartfelt letter to his wife, Sophia, while stationed in France, far from their home in Michigan where she stayed with their baby son. He was repairing war machinery yet yearned for the comforts of home.

From his enlistment in June 1942 until leaving the Army Air Corps in November 1945, Edward sent over 250 letters, postcards, and telegrams to their modest two-family home in Hamtramck, Michigan.

Sophia preserved every piece of correspondence in a simple wooden box throughout Edward’s deployment, their married life, and until his passing in his sleep 40 years ago at the age of 67.

In recent years, Barbara Martin Dziadosz, their surviving daughter, has taken it upon herself to preserve this cherished correspondence, organizing and annotating each letter in acid-free protectors housed in three substantial binders.

These letters serve as a moving historical account filled with themes of love, pride, sacrifice, and the emotional challenges borne from distance.

Though rooted in a specific era, their messages resonate universally through the experiences of separation and conflict.

This Monday marked the 80th Veterans Day since World War II concluded, a war that was once dubbed the “War to End All Wars.” The advancements in weaponry and communication techniques have drastically changed since then. Today’s soldiers can make calls and send emails from combat zones.

Edward often used a pencil or pen to convey his love repeatedly while his son, affectionately called Sonny, learned to recognize his father’s black-and-white photo and say “Da-da.”

In mid-July 1942, while stationed in California and training to repair airplanes, he wrote, “Sophia my sweet, I am not hinting, but if you could get me a good pen & pencil set you know that Eversharp set is guaranteed forever.”

“Then it will be just like my love for you—’Guaranteed forever.'”

About the Couple

The last letter you sent me darling, I’ve read it for the 30th time. Is the baby sleeping with you? I don’t want to worry but I was reading in the paper where quite a few babies are suffocating when they sleep with their mothers, and I want you to be careful.

— March 13, 1944

Sophia was exceptionally intelligent, able to quickly calculate complex math problems in her head.

She was well-organized and personable, sharing captivating stories and moving hearts with her violin music. Once Edward left for the war, she leveraged her skills working on the production line at Briggs Industries, famously operating a riveting gun just like the woman in the iconic wartime poster.

“If my mom had been born when Mary Barra was born,” Dziadosz remarked, “she would have Mary Barra’s position.”

Before enlisting, Edward worked in the auto industry and later owned a gas station for two decades before becoming a mechanic for Parke-Davis, a pharmaceutical firm.

“He could fix anything,” shared Dziadosz, 77, who is now a retired paralegal living in Macomb County.

“I thanked him many times,” added her husband Roger, 80, who has been married to Dziadosz for 57 years.

Naturally reserved, Edward often kept to himself, even while playing pool with his son-in-law at the VFW. He enjoyed outdoor activities and was a graceful dancer; Dziadosz recalled how her parents would waltz and polka, gliding gracefully across the dance floor.

In retirement, he indulged his interest in treasure hunting, often using a metal detector, and would scatter coins across fields for his grandchildren to find.

Throughout his life, he rarely discussed his military experience.

First Impressions and Early Correspondence

Next week marks our anniversary. Four years of wedded bliss. 

Do you still love me the way I love you? Being the father of such a wonderful family is truly amazing.

We’re about to head out for a hike. I’ll wrap this up and write to you again later. Please take care of our little boy, my dear, will you?

— Jan. 24, 1944

Sonny, also known as Edward Jr., is the eldest of four siblings. Now 80 years old, he is a retired radiologist living in Florida.

Dziadosz, pronounced DZIGH-dose, is the second child, born 17 months after her father returned from the war. Adonna May, the beloved one, unfortunately did not survive the COVID-19 pandemic; she passed away at the age of 68. David, the youngest sibling, lost his battle with cancer three years ago at 63.

Their parents met before Edward’s older brother’s wedding during a bridal shower. Edward was smitten at first sight and asked Sophia if she could help with counting the money given as gifts.

Sophia was quick enough to tally it all herself and smart enough to ensure he didn’t feel like he was in the way.

Edward, 24 at the time of their marriage, was two years older than Sophia. At 26, still in that blissful newlywed phase, he enlisted to do his part in saving the world.

On June 2, 1942, the Army sent him to the Fort Custer Training Center near Battle Creek, and he sent his first postcard home on June 3.

There wasn’t much to share; the new recruits had taken IQ tests and received their uniforms, and he inquired about his two beagles.

By June 6, Edward found himself at Jefferson Barracks in Missouri, located 30 miles south of St. Louis. The Army had placed him in the Air Corps, the predecessor of the Air Force, deciding he would serve as a mechanic.

He then traveled to Southern California, where the training was so rigorous that he noted, “when I finish this course, I will know everything about an airplane except how to fly one.”

Following that, he unexpectedly enjoyed six months of happiness—a further training period in Michigan at what is now Selfridge Air National Guard Base in Harrison Township. Both he and Sophia were busy with their respective jobs but managed to see each other often enough that by the time he was deployed overseas, he was already a father.

Regretting not having asked her father more questions during her younger years, Dziadosz recorded her mother’s memories in 2001, just two years before her mother passed away. In that moment, she felt young again.

She recalled how a busload of young wives would pay 25 cents each to bounce from Detroit to the remote base after work.

“The roads were bumpy,” she reminisced, “but you didn’t mind because you were going to see the one you loved.”

A blemish on his record

I am sure it’s quite monotonous. Same routine every day. I visited Cherbourg, and we really gave the Nazis a tough time.

But my darling, let’s return to a happier topic. How are you and Sonny getting along? Are his teeth breaking through yet? Is he still a bit cranky? Tell him I’m thinking seriously about getting him a playmate for when I’m home.

— July 19, 1944

Edward Martin arrived at Normandy 10 days after D-Day.

This was on June 16, 1944, but he couldn’t inform his wife until 11 months later, once the war progressed enough for the Army to cease censoring letters.

“We faced gunfire and bombings,” he wrote, and picturing him wading ashore through frigid waves helps explain why, despite cherishing Sophia’s letters, none made it back home with him.

He served as a crew chief in the 405th Fighter Squadron of the 371st Fighter Group, overseeing a small team responsible for keeping a P-47 named Mumblin Joe in top condition. Its pilot, Arthur W. “Bud” Holderness Jr., flew 142 missions and retired in 1971 as a brigadier general. Mission accomplished.

By the end of his service, Edward had earned the rank of staff sergeant and wrote after each promotion to let Sophia know that his new stripes were for her—unless they were for Sonny.

His demotion was also for them.

The one time he met his son, right after Sonny’s birth, he stayed an extra day in Detroit and was reduced in rank from corporal to private for going AWOL. His rank was reinstated within weeks, and he assured Sophia he had no regrets.

Dziadosz only discovered this when she eventually reviewed the letters.

Reflecting on the past

I love you, and as I write this, it feels like my heart might burst. I don’t know how much longer I can endure this. My God, why do people choose to destroy each other and cause so much suffering?

As I pen this, I can hear planes taking off for missions, and some of those pilots may not make it back. It’s tough, Sophia, really tough.

— Jan. 24, 1945

The majority of the letters remain clear enough to read. Some, which were miniaturized on microfilm to a size of 5¼-by-4¼-inches during wartime to save space, were hard to read upon delivery.

Dziadosz had seen the letters before but had only taken brief glances until recently.

With the anniversary of D-Day approaching and her vision declining, she was determined for her children to maintain a connection to their grandparents.

Donna Hembree, 53, works as the activities director at a senior living facility in Grand Blanc, while Mark, 48, is involved in air quality management for Michigan.

“Mark was my dad’s fishing buddy,” Dziadosz noted, adding that it’s important for him to learn that his grandfather received a Bronze Star. He witnessed horrific events during the war but returned home as a gentle man. Over their 3½ years apart, he sometimes needed reassurance of his wife’s faithfulness.

So Dziadosz began to unpack the envelopes, stating, “and I was unable to stop. I felt compelled to give this the attention it deserved.”

A Final Destination

IN ENGLAND BE HOME WITHIN MONTH DONT WRITE WILL PHONE ON ARRIVAL LOVE EDWARD

— Telegram, Sept. 20, 1945

This may seem like ancient history, but back in 1981, director Francis Ford Coppola revived the 1927 silent film “Napoleon,” giving it new life through performances by local orchestras.

At the Ford Auditorium by the Detroit river, Dziadosz’s father leaned toward Sophia during “La Marseillaise,” held her hand, and softly said, “That’s the French national anthem.”

“I didn’t ask how he knew that,” she remarked, nor did she inquire about why his eyes appeared misty. Until she examined the letters, she was unaware that he had spent over a year stationed in France.

She wasn’t informed about the comrades he served with, whom he referred to as “swell fellows,” part of the 16.4 million Americans who contributed to restoring peace in a world that never seems to appreciate it for long.

As 2024 approached, only 66,143 veterans remained, according to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, to share their stories, if anyone cares to listen.

Understanding now how deeply the war affected her father, she appreciates the choice she and her mother made after he passed away.

They selected a spot in Mount Olivet Cemetery in Detroit, believing the hunter in him would enjoy the pheasants that inhabit the area. Plus, the daily soundtrack includes the soothing sounds of planes flying overhead, landing safely at City Airport across the street.