It’s been nearly ten years since I heard my grandfather’s voice — we laid him to rest in Arlington Cemetery in 2003 — but last week a letter arrived by email that brought it right back.
In March of 1945, a not-so-young Nathan Hale Olshan was deployed with the Pacific Fleet in the Philippines. He was a 32-year-old ensign, a lawyer by training, but an accountant by trade. The war wasn’t his only problem. In his absence, his tiny accounting practice in D.C. was in freefall, and his wife had just given birth to a baby girl.
He was writing to friends who also happened to be clients, perhaps just to stay in touch, but also to remind them of his existence, however distant he might be at the moment, and to forecast a day in the near future when he’d be back in the saddle. Like the great General Douglas MacArthur, he promised “once more to return,” not to the Philippines, but rather to the United States.
The letter speaks for itself. I won’t apologize for its casual racism — the enemy are “Japs;” the battle for the Philippines is a racial war, with the “white man’s superiority” at stake. These views were a product of their time. Woe unto to the descendant who looks back in harsh judgement, lest he be judged harshly by future generations!
Most poignant, to me, is the line in the fourth paragraph about his baby girl. “I guess if my daughter can wait to see me, I can wait for her.”
My grandfather was one of the lucky ones. Unlike his namesake, Nathan Hale, he survived his war. His prediction of a speedy conclusion to the hostilities came true. The Japanese surrendered in August of that year, and he was steaming home a few months later, no longer an ensign, but a proud lieutenant (JG).
He would go on to meet his new daughter — my Aunt Joanne — and be reunited with his son, Robert — my father. In the decades that followed, he would build up his accounting practice, and win a reputation as one of the best CPAs in Washington, D.C. His marriage would be long and happy; his work satisfying and profitable; and his children, healthy and strong.
But he didn’t know all that when he wrote the letter. There’s a quietly elegiac tone to it, the breeziness of a man who sees himself as a bit-player in history, but who is nevertheless aware of the deadly storm swirling all around.
My thanks go out to Louis and Sarah’s grandson, Brad Chesivoir, whose father, Danny, is mentioned in the letter, for saving this family treasure; and to my cousin Lee Miller, who was kind enough to scan it and distribute it to the descendants.
18 March 1945
Dear Louis and Sarah,
Just a line of greeting from the Philippines. I think this place will go down in history as the place in which the Japs were convinced that the white man is superior.
In the brief time that I have been out this way the war has made tremendous advances. Peace and normalcy are in the offing for 11 million of us, who have been separated from our loved ones. It certainly will be a happy day for us, when we can once more return, this time to the U.S.
I certainly can’t kick about my life in the Navy. So far it has been exceptionally fine. After a few months of rugged duty, we have settled down to a good, (as far as service forces go) life. If this is what Danny is faced with, it’s not bad at all.
By now you must have heard that I am the father of a little girl. Joanne was born on Washington’s birthday. Both Anne and the baby are doing fine. I guess if my daughter can wait to see me, I can wait for her.
The way the war is going now, it won’t be long now before I’ll be telling you about it. Send my regards to my Washington friends.
Sincerely,
Ens. Nathan H. Olshan
This column was published in the Perry Co Times on 24 January 2013
For more information, please contact Mr. Olshan at writing@matthewolshan.com
