"They were a
very close, loving family. For some unknown
reason at the time, my grandparents told me that
Uncle Jay and Sissy idolized my daddy. Uncle
Jay, being two years older than my dad,
purchased a car for him, even before he had one
of his own. Sissy was two years younger than my
dad and absolutely idolized him. Sissy and my
Dad were musically inclined and they "made
music" together at all the young people's
get-to-gathers in the community. The family
always put him on a "pedestal" Gram-mama
described him as a special child to all that
knew him from the time of his birth until the
time of his death because he was always so kind
and considerate to everyone regardless of their
color, financial or social status. As I grew
older, everyone that I came in contact with that
knew him told me the same thing. Gram-mama told
me that later she realized the reason he was
always so special to everyone because he had
only a short time to live. I believe that also.
My memories of my dad are a little vague,
although I have five very vivid memories of him.
My brother, whom I call Bubba, has many memories
of him even though he was only 2 years old when
my dad went away to the service.
Ginger,
Bubba, Grammama Rutledge with
Ginger's Dad, Robert L. Rutledge (Picture
courtesy of Ginger Rutledge Gregory)
There are few things that Ginger remembers about
her dad:
"I remember
meeting him at the end of the drive way when he
would come home from work... my bother and I
would stand on the "running-board" of his car
and he would stick his arm out the car window
and hold on to us until he parked the car at our
house.
I remember being in our yard riding on his
shoulders one night when the moon was very big.
He taught me to say "I see the moon, the moon
sees me, God bless the moon and God bless me"
that night. To this day, when I see a full moon,
my memory goes back to that night and I say "I
see the moon, the moon sees me, God bless the
moon and God bless me" silently in my mind. I
taught my own children this little poem, but I
don't know if it has stuck in their minds as it
did mine.
I remember sitting in his lap one day (on the
floor) after he and mama had made homemade ice
cream. He made a tunnel through the mound of ice
cream for me and I thought that was really
something.
I remember being at my maternal grandparents
home for Sunday lunch. The preacher from their
church was having lunch with them. At my
paternal grandparents home, the children were
always fed first and I could not understand why
I couldn't sit at the big table with the adults,
so I proceeded to crawl underneath the table and
my daddy had to get down and pull me out from
under the table. That was the first time I
remember him spanking me.... he told me that
behavior was not acceptable. The spanking hurt
my feelings much more than my bottom, but I've
never been under a table since. He was a gentle
man.
I remember the trips to visit him at Fort
McClellan, Alabama while he was stationed there.
"
In April 1944 Robert Lee Rutledge enlisted with
the United States Army. He was stationed at Fort
McClellan, Alabama for seventeen weeks. Ginger
remembers her mother, brother, gram-mama, and
myUncle Jay driving from Lumpkin to Fort
McClellan to see him. Sometimes another uncle,
C. D. Williams, and cousins, Betty, Johnny,
Frances, Dan & Lucy Williams would take turns
going with them. She remembers: 'My mother and
gram-mama would always pack food to take with
us. I was fascinated with the out-door stadium
with many, many bleachers. Lumpkin did not have
a stadium and my cousins and I would run up and
down the stadium steps and play while my daddy,
my mother, Uncle Jay and Grammama would sit on
the grass and visit and watch us play.
My brother, most of the time, would sit in my
dad's lap and listen to his conversation (I
suppose that is why he can remember so much
about him). We would sleep in the car because
the few motels would have no vacancies (after I
was grown, I asked my mother how in the world
did we all sleep in the car.... she said we
would do anything just to get to see my dad for
a few short hours). I suppose we children slept,
but I bet the adults didn't! It was so much fun
to make these trips, especially if we took some
of my cousins to play with. I learned later that
gas was rationed and some other family members
would give my family their gas "tickets" so we
could make the trips to Fort McClellan if we had
used all of ours. My brother & I wanted to be a
soldier like our daddy so my mother bought us an
army suit. I believe she ordered our "army
suits" from Sears, Roebuck and Company."
Robert was sent to Fort Meade, Maryland where he
remained for a short time before being shipped
"over-seas" in September 1944 with the 7th
Armored Division. He joined the Army's 48th
Armored Infantry Battalion as a replacement for
casualties lost during the assault on Normandy.
In his letter to little Ginger, Rutledge
explained why he had to go: "It's all for your
benefit. You came into a free world and I want
you to finish in one."
Ginger
continues the story: "The last time he was at
home he asked my mother and grandparents not to
worry about him, that he would be back soon. I
later learned that he talked with his brother,
my Uncle Jay, and asked him to please take care
of us if he didn't make it back. My Uncle Jay
promised him that he would and believe me, he
stuck to his word, because he devoted his life
to us. Uncle Jay never married; he was always
there for us. I remember very well the day a
"man" came to our house to deliver a telegram.
The man looked so sad when he handed the
telegram to my mother. When she read the
"letter" she began to cry. Then my gram-mama
read it and she began to cry. When my granddaddy
and Uncle Jay came in and read the "letter" they
were so sad I really couldn't understand, they
didn't tell my brother and me that our daddy was
missing in action. I suppose we were too young
to understand.
My maternal grandparents, Charlie and Mary
Virginia Cannington lived about five miles from
my Rutledge grandparents. My gram-mama Rutledge
was heart broken when my daddy went away to the
war, so to help console her, my mother, my
brother and I made our home with my paternal
grandparents. We would spend a lot of time with
my Cannington grandparents also, so we were well
taken care of. I remember my mother and both of
my grandmothers writing a lot of letters and
anxiously waiting for the mailman to come
everyday. They seemed to live for the mailman to
come. I didn't understand then, but I do now. If
we were at my Cannington grandparents and my
mother would get a letter from my daddy, my
Uncle Jay would get in the car and drive to
their home to give Mama the letter. Everyone
would gather around to see what he had to tell
us. Every day my mother and my gram- mama would
write my dad a letter. They would give my
brother and me paper and a pencil to write to
him also. Although we could not really write, we
would scribble and draw pictures for him. They
wrote everyday! Little did I know then that 57
years later that I would have the opportunity to
read those letters that I loved taking to the
mail box and raising the flag and then running
to the mail box to see if we got a letter to
bring to my mother that would make her very
happy. When there was no letter, I remember the
disappointment on her face.
Then one day in March 1945 a man brought another
telegram. I remember how my mother and
grandmother cried and how my granddaddy and
Uncle Jay would just sit by the fireplace with
their heads propped in their hands and how Sissy
and all my cousins came and my mother's large
family and friends and neighbors. I knew
something was wrong, but I did not realize the
severity of it. I don't really know how long it
took for my mother to try to explain to my
brother and me that our daddy would not be
coming home. He was killed in action in Holland
on October 29, 1944. He was 27 years old...would
have been 28 on December 20th He was killed 10
days after my mother turned 25 years old on
October 19th . We were happy children and
playing with our cousins was fun and we really
didn't realize the great loss at that time. My
grandparents, aunts and uncles really took good
care of us and we enjoyed the attention. I
remember one time I wanted a pineapple sandwich
(1 was about 8 years old) for lunch. There was
no pineapple in any store in Lumpkin, so my
Uncle Jay drove to Eufula, Alabama to get a can
of pineapple for me a sandwich. Another time I
remember... my mother, my brother, Bubba, my
grammama and Uncle Jay went to Columbus, GA
shopping. My brother, who was 4 years old,
spotted a bright red tricycle in a store... he
just had to have that tricycle. I am sure money
was tight because my mother was explaining that
he couldn't have the tricycle this time, but my
Uncle Jay came to my brother's rescue. Bubba
happily peddled the tricycle from the store,
down the street to our parked car. These are
just two of many, many instances that my Uncle
Jay and grandparents kept their word to my
daddy. They didn't allow us to want for
anything, but what they gave us was with so much
love and care that we did not grow up to be
spoiled brats. They instilled in us the values
we have today.
During my childhood years while running and
playing and hiding in closets at my gram-mama's
house I would see this big brown duffle bag in
one of her closets. I remember looking in it one
day and thinking oh, that's just a big bag of
letters, which didn't interest me at the time. I
never bothered to open the bag further to see
who the letters were from.
Five years after my daddy's death my mother
married Russell Hamner who also served in World
War II. He was 32 and had never been
married...he was a wonderful stepfather to my
brother and me and we called him Russell. He was
very supportive and attended all of our
activities while we were in school. He was
always there when we needed him, but when I
turned about 13 years old I began wondering what
my "real" father would have been like. I would
think about the five memories that I had stored
in my head of him. I would get angry when I
would think about him being killed by the
Germans during the war. I didn't like
Germans...there was a German girl in my class
and I didn't want to look at her. I talked with
my grammama about this and she told me that the
little girl had nothing to do with my daddy's
death and she had no control over what had
happened during the war. She was a victim of
circumstances just as I was. I had to give this
a lot of thought and then I realized that the
German girl was not bad and knew nothing about
my father's death. We became friends on the
playground.
One day when I was about 21 years old I was
visiting with my gram-mama in Lumpkin, Ga. She
handed me a small-yellowed envelope with "For
our Dear Darlings to read when they grow up"
written in her handwriting. When I opened it I
read for the first time the newspaper articles
about my daddy's death. She told me that she was
putting these articles in my care now and ask
that I take good care of them...
My mother and grandparents always talked about
my daddy to my brother and me and the newspaper
articles described him just as they had to us,
but I still had a burning desire to know
him...to know what he liked and disliked...to
know what his favorite food was...what his
favorite color was.
Would he have been proud of us when we
accomplished a goal? There was just so much I
would have liked to know about him. My gram-mama
passed away in 1979 and I am still taking care
of her newspaper clippings and I have shared
them with my children and grandchildren. I have
made a copy of these articles for each of my
grandchildren so that they will know that their
great-grandfather gave his life for all of our
freedom.
Before my Uncle Jay's death about five years
ago, my brother and I were visiting with him in
his home in Lumpkin, Ga. He left the room and
returned with that old brown duffle bag that I
remembered seeing in my gram-mama's closet years
ago. He told Bubba and me that he was putting
the bag in our care and asked us to take good
care of it just as gram-mama had asked him to
take care of it. Uncle Jay was getting old...82
and he was sick.
He told us he wanted us to have this bag of
letters. There must have been 200 letters. I was
much more interested in the letters then than
when I was a child. I pulled one out to read it
and out fell a picture of my mother, my brother
and myself in a letter that she had sent to him.
It was returned unopened because my daddy was
missing in action and never received the letter.
I couldn't continue reading it without crying so
I put it back in the bag with all the others and
told my brother to take the bag with him so he
could read the letters first.
In early September 2001 Bubba gave me the bag of
letters and on John's and my way back home from
Moultrie to Statesboro I began reading the
letters I couldn't read them fast enough I read
for 3 hours in the car. I would cry and I would
laugh. When we arrived home and unloaded the bag
I sat down and started reading again...sometimes
I would read until midnight. Every night for a
month when I would get home from work and
finished with supper I would sit and read
letters. The letters were to my mother from my
daddy; to my dad from my mother; to my dad from
my Gram-mama Rutledge and Grandmother Cannington;
from my Uncle Harold, my mother's brother, who
was serving in the South Pacific during WWII;
from other friends and family. I just couldn't
read them fast enough. I was 62 years old and I
was finally getting to know my daddy; his
thoughts, his character, his love for my mother,
his love and his desires for my brother and me,
his love for his family and friends and his love
for his country. The letters that my mother and
gram-mama, his sister, Sissy; his mother-in-law,
his friends and other family members had written
to him from November 1944 until March 1945 were
returned to my mother unopened. They remained
unopened until my brother and I opened them. In
this bag of letters was the last letter he wrote
to all of us. It was returned with his
belongings (see attached copy). He never
finished the letter because I am sure that he
was called out to the battlefield before he
finished it, and he never returned to finish it.
It was written on my mother's 25th birthday,
October 19, 1944.
From these letters to my dad from my gram-mama,
I learned that she tried every thing she could
to get him out of the service before being
shipped overseas. She even wrote to the
President! I also learned from his letters to my
mother that he understood how my gram-mama felt,
but he had a job to do for his country and that
he could not try to get out. He missed his
family terribly, but what he was doing was for
his family also.
The letter I treasure most is the one he wrote
to me on my 5th birthday. From reading a letter
that he wrote to my mother, I learned that he
had just finished writing to me and that he was
on the ship going to Europe when he wrote my
birthday letter on September 18, 1944. This
letter was written on V-Mail stationery. The
letter was addressed to "Little Ginger Rutledge,
% W. C. Rutledge, Lumpkin, Ga. and this is what
it said:
My Darling Baby,
What sweet memories I have today. It carries me
back 5 years ago. We thought we were as happy as
could be until God sent you down to us. You'll
never know how proud I am of you. I've always,
since that day, done everything possible for
your benefit. I never dreamed of being away from
you as I am now. You are too young to understand
it now but you will later. It's all for your
benefit. You came into a free world and I want
you to finish in one. It's an awful feeling to
be away from you like this, but it won't be so
very long before I'll be back and will have
something to be proud of. Baby, all I ask of you
is to follow your mother's footsteps and I'll be
satisfied. You are the sweetest in the world. Be
sweet to Baby Boy and the very best wishes for
many more birthdays.
Loving you always,
Daddy
Letter from Daddy...
(Baby Boy was my brother...that's what I called
him until he became a teenager and was
embarrassed when I call him that...so I changed
and started calling him Bubba! He didn't mind
that so much!)
I certainly do understand now what my dad was
doing for his family and his country. He paid
the ultimate price and I am very proud of him.
He provided so much for us, freedom, a college
education through the GI Bill, and many other
things that I am so grateful for.
Another letter that touched my heart was one
from his high school English teacher, Mrs.
Marian Anglin. Mrs. Anglin wrote this letter to
my mother in April 1945 after the confirmed
death of my dad:
Dear Marguerite:
You and your precious children have been on my
mind so much during recent months and especially
during the past few weeks.
I wish with all my heart that I could do or say
something to help you. I want you to know that
as a pupil of mine, and later as a fine young
man, I had a true appreciation for Robert.
He will want you to be happy, which now seems so
hard, but I am sure that he would want it and
want you to be the brave girl that you are.
You have been so strong and fine.
With Love,
Marian Anglin
After reading all of these letters, I feel now
that I know my dad; his character, his desires
for my brother and me. I know he was a
compassionate and caring person, I know that he
was a very neat person with his dress. He had to
have his shirts and pants starched and creased
just right. In one of his letters he asked my
mother to be sure to get us out and let us do
things and learn about life because he wanted us
to grow up to "amount to something" He loved
photography and I didn't know it until I read
these letters. So, I suppose that I inherited my
love of photography from him. In so many of his
letters to my mother he would say that he hoped
that she would be able to get film. He ask her
to be sure to make pictures of my brother and me
on every occasion, especially birthdays because
he said he wanted one of us for every year. I
knew my mother made a lot of photos of us
through the years. It's so ironic that I have
always been a "fanatic" about getting pictures
of my children on their birthdays with their
cakes even though Jimbo is 40 and Susan is 36.
So far, I haven't missed a year, however,
sometimes it's hard to "hem" them up on the
exact day of their birthday. I think they know
how important it is to me to have these pictures
that they don't complain too terribly much,
although they don't think that it is necessary.
I feel the same about my grandchildren it is
very important to me to photograph them on their
birthdays! When they get to be about 13 years
old they "make out" that they don't want their
pictures made, but they sure do enjoy seeing
them when I get them developed.
I remember when my mother and grandmother would
bake cakes, cookies and make divinity candy to
send to my dad. They would wrap it and wrap it
and Uncle Jay would take the box uptown Lumpkin
to mail it. I do believe that they sent him a
box of goodies every week that he was gone. In
his letters he would thank them and tell them
how much he appreciated the sweets and how his
buddies would look forward to their boxes just
as much as he did. In his letters he would tell
us about his buddies. His best buddy was Marion
E. Sparkman from Crystal River, Florida. They
did their basic training together and was
shipped overseas at the same time, but then was
separated when they arrived in Europe. "Sparky"
as my dad called him made it home from the war
and contacted my mother. Every year Sparky and
his wife Regina and my mother exchanged
Christmas gifts. Sparky died a few years ago,
but Mama and Regina still send Christmas cards
and gifts to each other every year. Mama had not
met them until one summer in the 1980's when
they were traveling to their home in Washington
State from their home in Crystal River, Florida.
They came through Moultrie and looked her up. It
was like a reunion! They had never seen each
other, but had corresponded for all those years!
Sparky told my mother that my dad was one of the
finest men he had ever known and that he still
thought about him. They trusted each other and
had the same morals and values.
One day my mother gave me an old brown leather
pocketbook, which had cracked through the years.
In this pocketbook was the original telegram
dated November 13, 1944 notifying her of my
dad's missing in action and the telegram dated
March 19, 1945 confirming his death on October
29, 1944. There were letters from the War
Department, The Adjutant General's Office in
Washington, DC, from Walter F. George, Chairman
of the United States Senate.
There was one from The Secretary of War in
Washington, at the request of the President, to
inform my mother that the Purple Heart had been
awarded posthumously to my dad, who sacrificed
his life in defense of his country.
There were letters from J. A. Ulio, Major
General, The Adjutant General of the Army, to my
mother assuring her that she would receive a
detailed account of the circumstances
surrounding the death of my daddy. Evidently,
she must have written to the War Department on a
regular basis wanting to know exactly what
happened to him. I am attaching a copy of one of
the Adjutant General's letter dated June 23,
1945 explaining the reason they could not give
her the information immediately. Attached is
also one from the office of the Quartermaster
General explaining the grave location of my dad.
Finally she received a letter from his
Commanding Officer, Richard D. Chappuis, Lt.
Col, Inf., dated August 7, 1945 giving her this
explanation:
"At the time your husband was killed, we were
fighting an intense action against a brutal
attack by two German Divisions in the vicinity
of Meijel, Holland. Naturally, in the face of
such an assault, we were forced to give some
ground. The company of which your husband was a
member was almost completely encircled for 48
hours. The escape of those who survived seemed
miraculous. Since they had to withdraw through
swamps and peat bogs, they were forced to leave
their dead and the more seriously wounded
behind."
"In October, 1944 we were fighting under British
Command. Following the bitter action around
Meijel, we returned to United States control and
moved to an area farther south."
"The bodies of those who passed on were, when
the territory in which they lay was taken and
held by the enemy, buried by the Germans. After
the area was retaken by the British, these
graves were carefully searched out and the
bodies exhumed for interment in an American
Military cemetery with full rites and honors,
both religious and military."
"Naturally, considering the time required to
recapture the area and to push forward beyond it
to permit burial parties to operate, to exhume
and rebury our American dead and then to have
word of your husband's status reach us through
both British and American channels, required
several months. As soon as we were notified of
Robert's true status, his old company commander
wrote you."
"I wish that I could give you more detailed
information regarding your husband's death but
none is available. I hope, however, that my
brief explanation of the circumstances
occasioning your delay and suspense has helped
you to realize how difficult it sometimes is,
despite the Army's most conscientious efforts,
to give true information as to status from the
exact date on which a man becomes a casualty."
I feel that the letter he was writing on October
19, 1944 was started just before he had to go
onto the above battlefield."
The 48th
Armored Infantry unit was ordered to Meijel to
protect the right flank of the northbound force,
along a series of canals, marshes and
minefields. While in defensive positions, an
armored German force attacked across the canals.
Rutledge's unit was surrounded for two days.
Many were killed or seriously wounded and left
behind while survivors fled through the marshes,
according to a letter to Hamner from Rutledge's
commanding officer, Lt. Col. Richard Chappuis.
There are 37 graves at Margraten from the 7th
Armored Division, men who died from Oct. 26 to
Oct. 30, 1944.
Two weeks later, authorities notified Ginger's
mother that her husband was missing. He was 27.
"It was not until November 1947 that my mother
received a letter from the Department of the
Army telling her exactly where by dad had been
buried and requesting her wishes as to the final
disposition of my dad's body. After much
consideration and discussion with my dad's
parents, brother and sister, they decided not to
disturb and move his body again after all these
3 years. He is buried in the United States
Military Cemetery in Margraten, Holland. He has
a memorial stone in his family's cemetery plot
in Lumpkin, Ga.
During the war my mother's sister's husband,
Uncle Ben Shadrick, was fighting in Holland
also.
First
burial site of Pfc. Robert Lee Rutledge in
Margarten, Holland (Picture courtesy of Ginger
Rutledge
Gregory)
He became friends with a Dutch family, Gertie &
Harry Heynen deKlerk who lived in Maassricht,
Holland. After the war ended and my mother was
notified where my dad had been buried, my Uncle
Ben gave my mother Mr. & Mrs. de Klerk's last
known address that he had.
My mother wrote to them and asked if they would
go to the U.S. Military Cemetery in Margraten,
Holland to my dad's grave to say a prayer and to
put some flowers on it for her. Mrs. de Klerk
received the letter and replied to my mother in
a letter dated March 5, 1946. She thanked my
mother for putting faith in her and that she
would certainly go to Margraten to the grave of
my dad.
She told my mother that she understood so very
well her feelings and hoped that it would afford
her some consolation to know that there was a
Dutch woman bringing flowers to and praying on
the grave of her beloved husband. She said she
would do this with all of her love and would go
there as much as possible. She told my mother
that it was 45 minutes on her bicycle, high on a
hill from her home in Maastricht. She and my
mother corresponded for many, many years. They
exchanged gifts throughout the years. After the
war everything was very scarce in Holland and
very expensive. My mother would send Mrs. De
Klerk lipstick (she loved the Coty brand because
that was what she bought in Paris before the
war). She also sent her silk stockings and slips
which Mrs. de Klerk call "underskirts".
Mrs. de Klerk would send us Dutch chocolate; one
time she sent us 3 silver teaspoons; she sent my
brother and me a pair of wooden shoes (she told
us that they did not really wear wooden shoes in
Holland). She would send us very interesting
gifts. Mrs. de Klerk pleaded with my mother to
come to Holland. She thought it would make her
feel more at peace to see the beautiful cemetery
where my daddy was buried. Mrs. de Klerk went to
my daddy's grave every week and put fresh
flowers at his cross and she would say a prayer.
She would send us photos of his grave and cross
marker along with little sprigs of grass from
his grave. We never made it to Holland, but we
are planning a trip soon, my brother Bubba and
his wife Shirley, my mother, and John and I."
Ginger Gregory
last saw her father when she was 4, when he left
Lumpkin, Ga., to fight World War II in Europe.
She never saw his coffin and never laid flowers
at his grave.
Private Rutledge
is buried at Margraten American Military
Cemetery, Plot D Row 7 Grave 21.
On May 8, 2005,
US President Bush, the First Lady and Secretary
of State Ms. Condoleezza Rice joined the Dutch
queen Beatrix and prime-minister Jan-Peter Balkenende in a VE
DAY memorial service at Margraten. In his
speech, President Bush mentioned both Robert Lee
Rutledge and his daughter Ginger as examples of
a father who had laid down his life so his
daughter could grow up in freedom.
"[...]There
is no power like the power of freedom, and no
soldier as strong as a soldier who fights for
that freedom.
Private
Robert Lee Rutledge was one of those soldiers.
He gave his life fighting against a brutal
attack by two Nazi divisions. Weeks before he
died, he wrote a letter to his daughter on her
fifth birthday. The letter was addressed to
little Ginger Rutledge in Lumpkin, Georgia.
Private Rutledge told his daughter, "You're too
young to understand it now, but you will later.
It's all for your benefit. You came into a free
world, and I want you to finish in one."
Sixty years
later, Ginger is still free, and she does
understand. And so do her three children and
eight grandchildren. Private Rutledge did his
job well, and the men who fought and bled and
died here with him accomplished what they came
for. The free America that Ginger grew up in was
saved by their courage. The free Europe where
many of them lie buried was built on their
sacrifice. And the free and peaceful world that
we hope to leave to our own children is inspired
by their example [...]"
The full
text of President Bush's speech can be found
here.
Prime-minister
Balkenende, President Bush and First Lady Laura
Bush
at the May 8 VE Day Memorial service at
Margraten, where President
Bush mentioned the sacrifice of Pvt. Robert Lee
Rutledge, that
enabled the generations after him to grow up in
peace.
