Background information and commentary by Andrew Carroll: The following letter, which has never been published before, was written by a twenty-four-year-old Navy lieutenant, junior grade, named Burton Klein to his parents in Chicago before the invasion of Iwo Jima on February 19, 1945. In powerful and straightforward prose, Klein articulates the myriad thoughts and emotions that were going through his mind before heading into battle. I have shown this letter, which is transcribed below exactly as it was written, to friends of mine who have served in Iraq and Afghanistan, and many of them have remarked how accurately it echoed their own feelings. (Bluma is Klein’s fiancée.)

17 Feb. 1945

Dear Mom & Pop,

Here it is exactly 48 hours and 15 minutes and 5 seconds before we hit the beach at Iwo Jima, and I’m writing you just to let you know how I am mentally, as well as physically & how the other people on board have adapted themselves to the situation. I won’t be able to mail this letter until 30 days after the operation, however, if I waited until then I probably couldn’t give you as realistic a picture as I can today.

This being my first major operation I am naturally a little curious as to what it is going to be like & what my reaction will be. And, naturally again, I’m a little concerned, or scared. And any man who says he isn’t scared a little bit, is either a fool or a liar. By scared, I don’t mean nervous or high strung or panicky, but scared by the thought of not knowing what to expect. My thoughts, when I think about it, rotate from you two and Bluma, to myself and my own physical security, & then to my share in the operation, & my desire to do as good a job as possible.

I think about what I’d do if we were bombed or strafed or had a suicide bomber dive into us. Then I think about you & Bluma and how much I long to be with you, & wonder how you will take the news that this operation has been started, because you will probably be able to surmise that I am in this just because of mail coming in so irregularly. Then I start wondering what I would feel like or what I would do if something happened to me that would impair me physically, and how I will react to the sight of blood and death, if there is any around me. Then I start thinking about the men in my crews & how they’ll make out, and whether or not I have given all the crews all the necessary equipment for certain phases of the operation. Then after a half to 3/4 of an hour of this I fall asleep and wake up once or twice during the night thinking I heard somebody calling me to relieve the watch. I guess it’s not as much being scared as it is being concerned, cause physically I’m not afraid of anything. I feel fine, I eat heartily and I sleep pretty much as usual. I act the same as always, don’t try to put on any fake fronts as being a big brute who can lick the whole damn island by myself, & I don’t run around biting my fingernails, jumping on people for petty things or taking showers & forgetting to turn off the water.

I had the 4-8 watch this morning & was talking just about things in general with a pretty sensible, middle aged enlisted man. And he changed the subject of conversation once by saying he noticed how high strung two particular officers had become. Well, one of those 2 happened to be one of my roommates. (He is married, & has a 2 year old son.) About 4 months ago, he was particularly anxious to get out & see the world, & was very eager to get into actual combat, while the rest of us in the room told him we had no desire of seeing the world or having bullets whiz past our fannies, any more than was necessary. About 2 or 3 months ago, just after we started out on this operation, he was reading some mail from home & made the statement that he sure wished he were home. And last night, this same fellow took a shower at 1:00 A.M., after he had been in bed for 4 hours and forgot to turn off the light in the washroom. I don’t hold anything against him for being concerned about this invasion, but what I do remember is that he was such an eager beaver 4 months ago while we were leading the life of Riley in Pearl Harbor, & just practicing for the real McCoy. Human beings sure are funny animals, and the more of them you meet and know, the more confused you become & all the more you are able to appreciate your Mom & Pop, your girl, & your real pal.

Most of the men on board seem to feel the same way as I do, just judging from general appearances. They all ask questions as to what kind of naval & air support we are going to have, what we think the japs will have waiting for us, how long it will take to capture the islands, and how long it will be before we shove off. Some of them even want to know if I know our next operation. How about that? They must think that we are the personal buddies of Admiral Nimitz & buddies to whom he discloses his future operations. One of the men in my crew says he knows he isn’t coming back & wanted another fellow in his crew to explain it to his wife. I had the rest of the men in the crew dispell all such thoughts from his mind, because that certainly isn’t a healthy frame of mind for a man to have when he’s going into battle.

I guess the only time I start thinking like this is when I get into bed at night, cause I certainly haven’t got the time right now to think about it during the day. It’s just about the time that your body needs some rest, & your mind is still so active thinking about what you’ve been doing all day that it’s doggone near impossible to fall asleep immediately.

Well, folksies, I’ve got to attend to a few more things in a few minutes, so I guess I’ll bring this epistle to a close and always remain

Your Loving Son

Burt

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Burt Klein survived the invasion of Iwo Jima (which claimed the lives of approximately 7,000 Americans) and came back to the States in December 1945. Klein later moved to Louisiana and has lived there ever since. This past September, Klein and his wife Bluma were forced to evacuate their home during Hurricane Katrina, but they have both returned and are doing well.