Skipping Past the Censors

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My first understanding of what Veteran’s Day commemorates comes from a family story set in World War II. Mama’s brother Durell served in the Seabees. The group’s name came from the sound of their initials “C. B.” for Construction Battalion. As part of the Navy, they were often the first in to a combat situation to get things set up for the troops who would follow. Frequently, this meant an imperative secrecy since danger hovered if they were discovered. 

The Navy called my uncle by his first name, Daniel. He became Dan to his fellow soldiers and would use the name professionally the rest of his life, but in the family, he would always be known as Durell, his middle name. During the war, Uncle Durell’s letters were censored to be sure he did not either deliberately or accidentally reveal his location. His family at home worried and wondered where he was, taking any news reports about the Seabees as a possibility that he could be in harm’s way. 

Uncle Durell was clever, knowing his family at home would at least like to know his location. He used a ploy that would give information to them that neither the enemy if they should stumble upon his letter nor the censors who waited with their blackout pens would even notice. Somewhere in the body of a letter home, he wrote, “Tell Virgin ia . . .,” finishing with some chatty information.  His sister, named Virginia, picked up on the almost imperceptible space between the sixth and seventh letters of her name and correctly placed him in the Virgin Islands. 

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This didn’t dispel all their concern for Uncle Durell, but it gave the family a bit of peace to know where he was and which news reports put him in imminent danger.

I visited his grave a few years ago in a military cemetery near Phoenix. The Information Booth gave a map to find his location among the many identical graves, stretching almost a far as I could see, of those who had served in many branches of the military. Simple flat gravestones with name, rank, place of service, faith, and birth and death dates told little of the sacrifice they made. I tried to imagine the service of all these military men and women and the concern of their families who watched them go, not knowing if or when they would return – Uncle Durell’s story many times over. 

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It hardly seems enough, but I am glad we have this day of remembrance to thank Uncle Durell and his fellow soldiers for their service.