CORRESPONDENT: A Valentine’s Day greeting to all the mothers, wives, and sweethearts in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, from their fighting men in the first marine division. In the States you people have a saying that goes something like this: In the springtime, a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love, while in the South Pacific it’s always springtime — and even summer — as far as thoughts of love are concerned, as you will hear in just a moment because this is a real live talking valentine recorded about 7,000 miles off the shores of sunny California. It wasn’t possible . . .

HOST: This is a recording our friends at Sound Portraits Productions found in the Library of Congress. It was made in 1945. Marines from Milwaukee, Wisconsin recorded valentines to their wives, sweethearts, and families back home.

CORRESPONDENT: And now we’re going to hear from two twins. They were both on Guadalcanal. They’re on their second tour of duty. They’ve been here nine months and just came back from the first marine operation at Pellyloo. How long were you on Guadalcanal the first time you came over?

BROTHER: Well, from October 4, 1942, until the sixteenth of February.

CORRESPONDENT: Say, maybe I better tell them what your names are: Melvin G. Simmons, Corporal, and Orville J. Simmons, another corporal. Their mother is Mrs. Anna M. Simmons and they live at 2683 South KK Avenue, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Did you fellas just have a feeling for the marine division or did you ask for it when you came over?

BROTHER: We asked for the fifth marines.

CORRESPONDENT: You asked for the fifth marines and you’ve asked to be together?

BROTHER: That’s correct.

CORRESPONDENT: And when they write to you, do they write to both of you or do both of you get separate letters?

BROTHER: We get separate letters that start out ”Dear Twins” or ”Dear Boys.”

CORRESPONDENT: I see. Do you hear enough from everyone at home?

BROTHER: No!

CORRESPONDENT: Who don’t you hear enough from?

BROTHER: Well, my girl better get hot back there. I’d like to hear more from her.

CORRESPONDENT: What’s her name?

BROTHER: Anne Fambrizio.

CORRESPONDENT: Anne Fambrizio. And where does she live?

BROTHER: 2516 South Graham Ave.

CORRESPONDENT: Hey, Anne! Better get on the ball back there because a couple of good-looking boys here, and when they’re coming back you know they’ll have a lot of stars on their bars and you’ll be mighty proud to see ’em. So make with a pen and pencil, and the paper. They’d like to hear from you! And now these twins have written a poem and they’re going to read it together. So go ahead.

BROTHERS (TOGETHER):

My Mother, nights are long since we went away,

We dream about you all through the day.

My mother, dear mother, your sonny misses you.

Miss your eyes, your hair, the touch of your hand,

Just want to know if you understand.

Though we be miles apart,

You are always in our heart.

My mother, dear mother.

CORRESPONDENT: Thank you very much. That was Melvin and Orville Simmons from 2683 South KK Avenue in Milwaukee. And the next person we are going to hear from is Private First Class Porter M. Baldridge. He lives at 1318 West Columbia Street, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and his valentine is addressed to his wife, Bernice. Is that right?

PORTER BALDRIDGE: That’s right.

CORRESPONDENT: How long has it been since you’ve seen Bernice?

BALDRIDGE: Well, it’s been about pretty near eighteen months since I’ve seen her.

CORRESPONDENT: Eighteen months? And is there anyone else in your family you’d like to say hello to?

BALDRIDGE: Oh, I would like to say hello to my son. I haven’t seen him since he was born. He was born just shortly before I left for overseas. He’s about 16 months old now

CORRESPONDENT: Sixteen months old and you haven’t seen him. Have you gotten any pictures of him?

BALDRIDGE: Oh, yes. I have several pictures of him.

CORRESPONDENT: What does he look like?

BALDRIDGE: Well, he’s built about like I am: long from the shoulders down to the hips, and then pretty short from there on.

CORRESPONDENT: Gee, he’ll make a good marine some day, won’t he?

BALDRIDGE: I hope not!

(Everyone laughs.)

BALDRIDGE (SON): I’m Porter Baldridge. My father’s name was also Porter Baldridge. He was a marine in World War Two.

(Music fades in.)

BALDRIDGE (SON): When I was very young during the war, my mother and I lived at 1318 West Columbia Street, Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

CORRESPONDENT: Would you like to go ahead and say hello to the wife?

BALDRIDGE: Hello, Bernice, and tell the boy hello, too, for me.

BALDRIDGE (SON): He was on a ship heading for Okinawa, I believe. I can see him down there in a canvas bunk, about 140 people in there. It’s hot and steamy, just marines in T-shirts and dog tags, and a guy with a microphone. And I’m sure they took a bunch of ’em and made records and sent them back to people.

CORRESPONDENT: Do you get enough mail from the wife?

BALDRIDGE: Yes, she’s pretty good at writing. I get letters quite often.

CORRESPONDENT: How about the folks?

BALDRIDGE: Well, I could hear more from my folks.

CORRESPONDENT: Tell ’em.

BALDRIDGE: C’mon Mom and Dad, make with the pen!

CORRESPONDENT: Good, good. (Laughs.)

BALDRIDGE (SON): This thing came to my mother as a big old black phonograph record, one of those things about a foot in diameter, and it’s only recorded on one side. I don’t remember all of it, but I do remember my dad’s voice on it, saying ”Hey mom and dad, make with the pen,” and I’ve always used that from the time I was a little kid when I wanted people to write to me. And I don’t know what ever became of that record. It’s probably still in the artifacts back in Wisconsin somewhere.

CORRESPONDENT: Now go ahead and read the valentine that you have written for your wife and child.

BALDRIDGE (FATHER):

Now I don’t say the words are right,

But I got that valentine feeling tonight.

Never much good with words or pen,

But will you be my girl again?

Remember the movies we went to?

I never saw the show.

And tonight I know it’s because I looked at you.

CORRESPONDENT: Thank you very much.

BALDRIDGE (SON): I think it was about February of 1946. He came home and he come walking through the door and my mother said there’s your dad. I said ”No, this is my dad,” and I showed him the picture. I’d been looking at that picture ever since I could remember and that was my dad as far as I was concerned!

She cried, she jumped up and down, and I guess that’s probably what made me think he was really my dad and it was okay and that picture could be put away.

You know, people’s voices are kind of a funny thing. They change and yet they don’t change. Last time I heard my dad was the last time I saw him and it was November of 1994, right around Thanksgiving. He passed away February 10, 1995. The hardest thing I ever did was seeing him just before he died, though. It’s one of them things — you know it’s coming and you can’t do a darn thing about it. You want to say ”Daddy, make it better.”

Just hearing his voice on that record, it was just like he was here with me, and like we’d gone back in time.

CORRESPONDENT: Thank you very much. And now the next person we’re going to hear from is Sergeant Stanley E. Hill, and his valentine is to Mrs. Sam Nelson at 2503 North Palmer street, also Milwaukee.

STANLEY HILL:

Now the mess sergeant can’t bake pies,

Nor has he got your loving eyes,

And he can’t bake a butternut bread

Nor could he ever hold my head like you mom . . .

HOST: Our ”Marine Valentine” was produced by Stacy Abramson with associate producer Meagan Howell. It’s part of the American Talkers series from Sound Portraits Productions and City Lore in New York. Thanks also to the Recorded Sound Section of the Library of Congress and Sam Brylawski.

CORRESPONDENT: And this is Corporal Alvin Flanagan speaking from Tom Carson, technician, and the Radio Section of the Division of Public Relations, United States Marine Corps, wishing you the very best of luck and hoping that your next valentine will be delivered in person!