Daughter hears her father’s voice for first time — 76 years after his plane was shot down during WWII...

[Michie]

Lieutenant James D. O’Neill was a fighter pilot during World War II. Stationed in the Asian theatre, James wrote copious letters to his young wife, roughly one thousand letters in the three years he was away. His baby daughter, Bernadine, received one letter from him for her first birthday. In it, he included this advice, forever etched in Bernadine’s mind: “[Y]ou must do your share — Eat all that Mommy gives you, help her to keep you clean and healthy — and above all be good, but very good.”

The family was united for a brief furlough when James met Bernadine for the first time. Their brief visit together was also memorialized in the birthday letter to Bernadine. “I didn’t know how to hold you much less burp you but Mommy laughed at it all and taught me how. I called you ‘my little Rose Bud Mouth.’ You were so very adorable and cute. But in those two short days we got our beginning at being daughter and father.”

James wrote about all the things they would do when he got home from the war. “[W]e’ll go for rides in the car and visit the zoo and go on a picnic and take pictures and buy clothes and dolls and toys. And sing and play together as never before. Gee, we’ll have fun - you and Mommy and Daddy.”

Continued below.

Hearing a Father's Voice

A daughter hears her father 76 years after his plane is shot down during WWII

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[Wolseley]

I have a letter from my father that he wrote to my aunt---my mother's youngest sister. He was recovering from wounds in a hospital in Calcutta, India, at the time; and she, of course, was just a teenage girl still living at home. I treasure this letter; it bears my Dad's unmistakable unique handwriting, and is full of his particular manner of wording and speaking. My cousins found the letter in my aunt's papers after she passed away, and sent it to me; Dad had passed away twenty-odd years before.

 

[Michie]

I’m glad the letter went to the right person.

 

[RileyG]

I have a letter from my father that he wrote to my aunt---my mother's youngest sister. He was recovering from wounds in a hospital in Calcutta, India, at the time; and she, of course, was just a teenage girl still living at home. I treasure this letter; it bears my Dad's unmistakable unique handwriting, and is full of his particular manner of wording and speaking. My cousins found the letter in my aunt's papers after she passed away, and sent it to me; Dad had passed away twenty-odd years before.

Wow! You're very fortunate to have it! I've kept many cards and letters, too. I will never get rid of them!

God bless