Although the Japanese surrender did not officially occur until August 15, 1945, and the Instrument of Surrender was not signed until September 2, 1945, it was pretty well accepted that WWII was,
for all practical purposes, over 80 years ago yesterday. Following is a letter from my father to my mother dated August 10, 1945, opining that “the end is in sight.” He was in Belgium as part of a small group of military lawyers settling claims by Belgium
citizens against the U.S. for damages to life or property not related to combat operations.
Until then, one of the things that had been haunting them is whether they would be transferred to the Pacific Theater since the war was over in Europe and their claims work was winding down..
Tom to Cecilia, August 10, 1945
Just now getting around to answering, after reading leisurely, your offering of 30 July, which came yesterday – very good time. As usual, before, during and after a move, I am still busy as a one armed paperhanger
with the itch, getting things “in range.” But the end is in sight. Requisition for property (quarters, office, etc.) are finished, interpreters are hired, and now all remaining is to get one good civilian car for Judge Roddy and me to tour our “area” in, and
run in to Liege and Brussels from time to time.
Today we moved to the chateau. Hotel lady was just too full of her guests to let us have 2 rooms (for us 3 majors). So I came out here [Chateau Blier], which suits me better, because while the weather is
still warm, it’s much prettier and nicer out here. Our mess has thus far been superb, best I’ve ever had – just shows how important the cooking and preparation is, for it’s the same original food that is served anywhere in the Army under static conditions.
We all had a brief, pleasant thrill this afternoon when we heard Japan had surrendered, but learned later that ‘twas only their agreement to accept Potsdam terms “with conditions.,” in any case, I think the
end is definitely in sight, perhaps a matter of weeks or days. Atom bomb must have done it, plus Russia, although she was licked without either of these. Well, the atom bomb is terrible, of course, but if Japan doesn’t quit, I’m for unloading on her – from
one end to the other. She started it, and by damn, she’s going to have to be made to quit, and the sooner the better. For the people who cry “in human,” (Pope notably), let them remember that all war is inhuman, and untold heartbreak and suffering.
I guess you did get a laugh out of my “preference.” I did myself. But here is a follow up: A week later, the Hdqtrs. Sent out a 6th preference to be placed in proper place” “Do you desire to be
sent home and discharged?” I think we all put that no. 1. But none of ius expects anything from it. About the Reg. Army – True, it may mean 3 or 4 more years foreign service, but it’s pretty much a cinch families will be allowed to come, as in
pre-ware days – Philippines, Hawaii and China. Then top, if we decide on that for our life, we will at least know we are “settled” be it in the States or foreign service.
Why pay claims in Germany? Chum, that’s the $64 question. None of us knows why, and all of us think it’s an outrage. But doubtless the boys higher up have very “sound” reasons, touching the realm of international
relations for basis, and incidentally, it will enable the real big boys to keep their little empire a while longer, and, who knows?, may even get
the big boy his star – so there it is.
“Chevre,” as you guessed, means “goat,” and I know an old goat whom I love most dearly – her name is Celia, and she is the sweetest girl in all the world. Take care, honey.
Tom
Figure 1 – The Claims Team in Érezée, Belgium. Major Thomas F. Butt, third from left
Want to read more about WWII? See below.
Order from Amazon.
WWII Romance: Tom and Cecilia Butt Paperback
– July 1, 2025
by Thomas
(Tom) K. Butt (Author)
For over 80 years, the letters written by my father, Thomas Franklin (Tom) Butt (1917 – 2000), to my mother, Cecilia
(Celia) King Butt (1922 – 1991), during two and a half years of absences in over three and a half years of Army service in WWII were stored away in an attic. Thankfully, they were rediscovered in 2023, and I felt compelled to find a way to save them for posterity.
If they had remained in a box somewhere, they surely would have been unread and eventually lost as family members passed on and the detritus of years was discarded.
Probably the only way to provide even the possibility of access by future generations and anyone else interested, would be to compile them into a book, making them more user friendly by arranging them chronologically, transcribing my father’s almost indecipherable
handwriting and adding photos, also saved by my mother in several scrapbooks.
I struggled to justify why saving years of personal letters would be interesting, important or relevant to anyone other than immediate family members and a few descendants. Although encompassing all of the WWII years, these letters describe no heroics, battles,
bloodshed or narrow escapes. This is not a combat chronicle, as most war-related books seem to be. Maybe because it does not involve combat is what sets it apart. According to the National WWII Museum, there were 12.2 million Americans, including nearly 300,000
women, serving by 1945. 73 percent served overseas. About 40 percent served in non-combat jobs, which would be about 5 million. Their stories are important, too.
In 1939, a year before my father was called to active duty, the Army had only 189,839 soldiers, but by 1945, that had ballooned to 8.3 million. Someone had to train those 8 million soldiers and turn them into effective fighters, and that job fell to people
like my father. He once wrote form Europe to Cecilia about several men he had trained who were later killed in combat, “I wrote Barton not long ago, talking about these boys, and I pray God their deaths were not due to anything I might have failed to teach
them that might have made a difference.”
After four years of training infantry soldiers, my father eventually was ordered to the European Theater of Operations, after having been assigned, because of his legal background, into a small and somewhat elite organization that processed non-combat related
claims of French and Belgium civilians against American soldiers. He spent a few days in Scotland and England before disembarking at Omaha Beach and passing through Le Havre only a couple of weeks after its liberation. From there, he lived and worked in a
number of both small villages and large cities in France and Belgium, getting to know the locals, investigating, adjudicating and processing claims ranging from road-killed livestock to drunk GIs ramming a truck through a shop. His interaction with the locals
included dinners with local leaders, and, particularly after VE Day, the opportunity to attend operas and other musical events.
He was able to visit his brother, Major Jack Butt, a physician in the Army Medical Corps, in Reims. He traveled to Paris to visit his brother-in-law, Captain C.P. Reid, who was involved in clandestine operations and was one of the first Americans to enter Berlin,
where he seems to have made a small fortune on the black market. As victory in Europe, and later Japan, occurred, there was an understandable obsession with going home. The logistics of shipping millions of Americans back across the Atlantic was regulated
by a complex point system, but Tom’s number finally came up in December of 1945, and he was home by Christmas.
This book is "a day in the life" over six years of an Army infantry officer during WWII who was a husband with a one-year-old child.
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