Private Harry C.Wishart had volunteered for military service despite having several valid exemptions; his age and the fact that he was married with children were two of those reasons. Long before the advanced communications of today, he found himself in the midst of World War II, his only way to communicate with his family was through letters. In order to convey what he saw and felt he knew his words must be descriptive and clear; and they were in a very profound and beautiful way. Close to fifty years later, in a book compiled by his family, Harrys Letters to Grace, his powerful words stirred me. I couldn’t stop reading from page to page, from his time in basic training, to his travel upon the ocean and finally to his arrival at the battlefront. Harry only served on the field of battle for eight days before losing his life.
I was instantly connected in ways I never thought a man from the grave could connect with my life. I could hear his voice. It was his longing for home and family that made me weep, his integrity amid other men cheating on their wives, that made me feel dedicated and faithful and it was his courage and love of country that gave me perspective. It was Harry’s authentic reflections that brought emotion to his words.
In reading these letters I came to understand that there is real skill when putting words together. Certain words placed perfectly could bring to my mind what the landscape looked like in a foreign country. Other words well placed made me feel his anticipation to hear of his son’s birth. With two daughters at home already, he waited some three months to even know he had a son. His last letter home, before dying in the Battle of Okinawa, was almost prophetic and haunting. It was as if he knew he needed to say goodbye. Those last words helped me understand how much Harry loved and longed for his wife Grace.
It is my same desire to find the art of words that Harry did. His words came to life. It felt as if he was able to reach out from those pages to caress his children or to wipe a tear from his wife’s cheek. He not only left behind letters for his family to treasure but for anyone to explore and to have a very clear sense of what war meant to a man who loved his God, his family and his country. Harry Clarence Wishart is not only a hero to me but also a friend with whom I have formed a bond out of letters he wrote to his lovely wife, Grace.
Rebecca Frazier
Creative Writing
A Literacy Story
Reflection I Composition
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