Background information and commentary by Andrew Carroll: Many of the correspondence featured in this “Lines of Fire” series have been selected from WAR LETTERS and BEHIND THE LINES. This week I wanted to highlight a letter that has not yet been published anywhere but deserves, I believe, special attention—particularly for this Memorial Day. Almost three months ago I was giving a speech at the Salisbury House in Des Moines, Iowa, and a very gracious gentleman named Robert M. Holliday handed me with a letter from World War II. It was written on September 1, 1944—Robert’s first birthday—by his father, Captain Karl O. “Hap” Holliday, who was serving with the U.S. Army’s 561st Field Battalion in the European Theater. It’s a poignant letter by a homesick but patriotic young man to his one-year-old son, and it articulates the sentiments of many servicemen who believed strongly in what they were fighting for but missed their families back home dearly. Although written almost sixty-two years ago, it could easily have been written by a young father off in Iraq today. (Special thanks to Robert M. Holliday for granting us permission to publish the letter here for the first time.)

Dear Bob,

This being the first letter I have ever written to you, I am more of less at a loss as to what I should say. I know I should have written sooner because I have known you very very well for one year.

A year ago today was sort of a special day for your Mummy and me. That was the day when we first saw you — We were very happy about the whole thing and very proud of you too. You didn’t look much like you do now — You were very small — only 6 pounds and 8 ounces of baby boy. I don’t suppose you remember much about it but your Daddy sure does.

Your Daddy was a very nervous man. He tried to be quite brave and put up a bold front, but actually down deep inside he was scared half to death. Your Mummy wasn’t frightened because she knew everything was going to be alright.

After you were born she was afraid that the nurse would get you mixed up with the other babies in the nursery, but your Daddy wasn’t. Your Daddy knew he had the best baby in the world and he wouldn’t have any trouble picking you out of all the rest of the babies in the hospital….

I have been away for a long time, Bob but not because I wanted to be. We had a job to do — it had to be done so little boys could grow up in a free country. The job is almost completed now and I will be back to you soon.

It has been so very lonesome for me, my son, because I love you and your Mummy more than anything else in the whole world — you have the sweetest Mummy in the world, by far — Be very good to her Bob because she belongs to you and me — Tell her that I love her and that I will be back to you both soon.

Your devoted Daddy

P.S. I’ll never be away from you again on your birthday. I will bring your present home with me when I come—Happy Birthday, Baby, and best wishes. We will spend the rest of them together.

On April 13, 1945, less than one month before VE Day, Captain Hap Holliday was killed in action when his jeep was ambushed by German infantry. This Memorial Day we pay tribute to Hap Holliday and the millions of others who have given their lives for this great nation. We are also grateful to the grown children of these extraordinary individuals who grew up without ever knowing—except through old photographs and letter—their fathers. They, too, have sacrificed for this country, and they, too, deserve our appreciation.

WHEN “LINES OF FIRE” RETURNS ON JUNE 12: A letter about My Lai by a soldier fighting in Vietnam.