I never met my Uncle Tom. He died before I was born.
In my family, however, Tom’s memory was a frequent and powerful force. As a small boy, I noticed that whenever Uncle Tom was mentioned, my mother silently wept. Tom had been a brave and skilled pilot, someone to emulate. His effect on me and my family was pervasive and motivating. It still is.
More about this later.
The Wallet
In the autumn of 2017, while looking through some old boxes in my garage, I came across several things that had belonged to my mother.
She’d passed away in 1977, and shortly after that, I had retrieved these old boxes and a trunk from the attic of her house. At the time, I’d glanced only briefly at the items before putting them in a safe place in my garage. There they’d sat, unopened, for many years.
Finally, almost 40 years after my mother’s death, I was looking for some old photographs when it occurred to me they might have been placed in that old trunk in the garage. Moving aside folding chairs and automobile floor mats, I opened the chest for the first time since 1977. One of the first things I saw was an old leather wallet.
I realized from the contents that the wallet had belonged to Dr. Cartmell, my maternal grandfather, who had passed away in 1953. As a physician myself and grandson to Dr Cartmell, I had both a professional and personal interest in seeing what he’d carried with him every day.
The wallet contained things I would expect of a retired physician …a driver’s license, medical license, insurance card…but it also held a photograph of Dr. Cartmell’s only son, Tom (my uncle), a photograph of Tom’s grave in France, and a carefully written description of exactly where he was buried.
Years after Tom’s wartime death, my grandfather had still carried mementos of his only son with him every day.
While I’ve known about Tom’s early death all my life, the poignancy of the wallet and its contents brought home to me the impact this loss had had on my grandfather.
The Letters
In other boxes, I discovered letters (89 of them), written by Tom to his sister Elaine (my mother), from 1943 to 1945. She’d kept the letters in a box, in chronologic order, tied with string. When I looked at the efforts she’d taken to preserve and protect the letters, it again struck me how much Tom had affected those around him.
I’ve been reading these letters.
I haven’t read all of them yet, but I’ve read enough to understand that Tom was a conscientious writer who had a gift for sharing both his mundane and profound experiences. He died at the age of 22. The two years of letters focus on his life in the military, the last two years of his life.
I’ve decided to share these letters. More than 70 years have passed since they were written, and most of the individuals mentioned in them have passed away. I’d like to let anyone who might be interested know what Thomas Cartmell was thinking about…his hopes, fears, and plans for the future. I want Tom Cartmell to be able to tell his own story.
Many young men go off to war, and some don’t return. The experience of Tom Cartmell was not unique in the general scheme of things, but it was unique to him and to those around him.
The Photographs
In addition to Tom’s letters, I’ll be providing family photographs and period images from his military bases, the better to frame the experiences he describes. I’ll also present some other stories, writings, and events that bear on Tom and his life.
I don’t intend to editorialize on the things Tom writes…this is his story, not mine. But I will sometimes provide brief explanations about what or who he’s discussing, or provide some context to his letters, as I feel might be helpful.
Michael John Hughey, MD
August 15, 2017
Update March 25, 2018
After nearly finishing this project (or so I thought), I was able to share it with my cousin Tome (pronounced ‘Tommy’) Elizabeth – the daughter Tom Cartmell never knew. Tome was pleased to see my project, but added that she had many more letters!
Tom’s wartime letters to his wife Zoe (Tome’s mother), to his father Dr Cartmell, and to his parents-in-law (Zoe’s mother and father) had all been carefully saved, and had all eventually come into Tome Elizabeth’s safe-keeping.
Finally, Tome had a large scrapbook, yearbooks, and many photographs of Tom.
She graciously sent them all to me.
Working my way through this new treasure trove of letters, it’s clear that Tom’s relationship with his sister Elaine (my mother) was not exactly the same as his relationship with his father, with his wife Zoe, and with his mother and father in law. (No one will be surprised by that.)
I’ve decided to include all of the new materials. They make possible a much more complex and nuanced view of Tom Cartmell. I believe he would approve.
This will take some time. There are a couple hundred more letters to organize, transcribe, annotate, and incorporate into Tom’s wartime history. That is an observation, not a complaint. For me, this project has become an exploration of the life of an important lost relative, – and a work of love.
Michael John Hughey, MD
March 15, 2018
Update November 27, 2018
I’ve completed the transcription of all of Tom’s letters through January 1, 1944. This includes letters to his sister, Elaine, his girlfriend, Zoe (Later to become his wife), and his parents, Dr. and Mrs. Cartmell. Elaine’s letters are complete to April, 1945.
I still have to complete Tom’s letters to his parents and Zoe for 1944 and the first four months of 1944. I also intend to transcribe the letters of condolence following his death. Many of them tell enlightening stories about Tom’s life.
I’ve added a comment feature to allow readers the opportunity to share their thoughts about these letters with other readers.
While I’m not finished with this work, I’m ready to make the site widely available on the internet.
Michael John Hughey, MD
November 27, 2018
Update June 27, 2019
I have finished transcribing, photographing and posting all of Tom’s letters to his wife (Zoe), his sister (Elaine), his parents (Doctor and Cleda), and his inlaws (the Forans).
I’m pausing for the moment, to reflect on all of this. I haven’t looked at or attempted to post any of the 100 (about) letters of condolence that were sent in following his death. But at some point, probably sooner than later, I’ll begin work on that.
Michael John Hughey, MD
June 27, 2019