A Telegram Home

Our sub, Pampanito, had pulled into Perth, Australia shortly before Christmas for a refit. The Red Cross arranged for all of us that wanted to, to send a telegram home. It was a canned message which basically said that we were safe. Couldn't say where we were or had been or would be. It sounded like a nice thing to do so most of us took advantage of it. What we didn't know was what went on back home. It was a policy for the War Department to send telegrams to the families of servicemen killed or wounded in action. In Wayzata the telegrams came into the train depot. Bill McLaughlin, the station master, was a personal friend of my parents. It was his duty to deliver the telegrams. He almost always was accompanied by a member of the American Legion and the clergy when the news was bad. On this occassion he delivered the telegram by himself because he wanted to give the good news to the family. Mother saw him coming up the walk with a wire in his hand and feared the worst. She should have realized seeing Bill alone that it wasn't bad news. In those days everyone expected the worst. Bill handed her the wire and she started to cry.
All the kids at home kept asking, "Who is it?"
"Spence," she answered and then added to quell the wailing, "He's OK. He just says Merry Xmas."
I had no idea what would happen when I sent the wire.