Some nine months after The Jewish Exponent’s publication of letters sent by Pvt. Wolfe V. Freudenheim to his parents in Philadelphia (see New Guinea New Year), the Exponent published more of Wolfe’s letters. The first dealt with a Passover Seder held in New Guinea, and the second described the living conditions, climate, and wildlife (even the proverbial – and quite real! – bird of paradise) to be found on the island.
This was the second (and last) occasion on which the Exponent published Pvt. Freudenheim’s letters.
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Passover in New Guinea – Crocodile Hunting
The Jewish Exponent
July 9, 1943
Pvt. Wolfe Freudenheim, stationed in new Guinea, wrote the following letters to his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Abraham Freudenheim of 6237 Christian Street. Pvt. Freudenheim’s letters have appeared in THE EXPONENT before, and his latest batch is even more interesting.
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New Guinea, April 29, 1943
Dearest Everybody,
I’m just returned from the Passover celebration here in New Guinea. Rabbi Levy was there. I had arrived at 7:30, and since the crowd was so large the service was discontinued in favor of eating. All the men brought their own mess kits. The dinner was served buffet style. I can safely state that it was the largest grouping of any religious sect. (Amount censored.) It would have done your hearts good to see the men grabbing for “Matzos” and what wine there was. I believe that every Jewish man in the Australian Army and U.S. forces was there. Among those present: Lt. Max Daroff, Sgt. Herb Glonin, Eddie Eisenberg of Atlantic City. I could just go on listing them, but it would sound like a roll call. Pictures were taken by a war correspondent and also by the U.S. Army Photo section.
The Chaplain admitted that he never anticipated such a large mob. For that reason the service was terminated and we spent the rest of the time meeting new people – and in general “swapping the best rumors”.
Naturally the “four questions” were asked, but they were never answered. Undoubtedly they will be answered by the men in the forces in a different manner. Next year we might be able to answer in peace.
Enough “Matzos” were on hand for every man to have at least one pound each.
Oh yes: two nurses came. Nobody looked at them – much. First the upper strati of the commissioned officers held them enthralled. A little later 1st and 2nd lieutenants took over. Almost before anything else happened, a bunch of infantrymen, in their “zoot suits” (jungle uniforms) made a blank attack, and they never relinquished the hold they held – not even for the major, who wanted to take them “home”. Over a box of “matzos” they spoke of “Seder” night at home.
In a corner a bunch had gotten together for a “go” at “Chad God Yah” – what a noise! But it was beautiful.
Begging for order, the Chaplain called to the men for the benediction. After reading an order from “the” General concerning the holiday, we left.
MENU
Matzo
Real Fruit Cocktail
Fresh Meat
WOLFE
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New Guinea, May 13, 1943
Dearest Everybody:
“MY DAY OFF”
or
‘HOW NOT TO REST”
The morning was perfect, as _____ _____ days go, in New Guinea. Of course it was hot, and the humidity was quite high.
[Being] my day off, I planned [to do] a bit of crocodile hunting on my own. If I knew what was to transpire, I might have hesitated.
[By 4:15] A.M. I strapped a web belt about my waist, a canteen, jungle knife and a sharp dagger. Slinging a bandolier and a rifle over my shoulder, then putting two packs of cigs in my pockets with a box of matches, plus four bars of chocolate, which was to be my lunch, I started out.
Hopping a ride was an easy matter, and after two hours we arrived at the habitat of the “crocs”.
Walking through this stinking swamp, down dried-up creeks and streams, was quite an experience. The place was chockful of tracks and – being ever on the alert – deeper into this Eden I went. Once I took a pot shot at a large snake, but he was too fast. Lizards of the larger variety were to be found in abundance. The reports which came from my rifle made them run in all directions. Working my way up, I finally reached the summit of this mountain. Here I met an English-speaking native policeman. He was a swell fellow – offered me tea and biscuits. The mountain was 5,000 feet. Crocodiles? “Oh, many miles up river, Towhada” (big white man). He told me of the bird of paradise which roamed the nearby jungle – but telling me that it was against the law to shoot one. He was quite emphatic about this.
Going back down into the jungle of this mountain took some time. Then, part way down, I heard a chucking sound and saw a bush move – there walking across the track, not 25 yards away, was a real live bird of paradise in all his glory – strutting as though he were the kind of all he surveyed. Gee, he was beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. About this time it began to rain, but slowly and quietly I followed my gorgeous friend. Deeper and deeper into this heavy foliage he went, until he came to an overhanging boulder, under which was a round dry mound. His lair!
The ground was becoming soggier, and it took quite and effort to pick up my foot, but quite a simply matter to put the other back in the goo. Reaching into my pouch for a bar of chocolate, I soon found to my utter amazement that a whole colony of ants had beaten me to the draw. Throwing the bars away, I dug deep into my pockets for a cigarette – only to find them all saturated by the rain, except one, which was only wet at the tip. Breaking the wet part off, I put my hand into my pocket, and withdrew a broken match box and a few red dyed matches. Their tips were gone. Here a wallaby sloshed up the track and further on, I could see through the rain a few large rats. By a lucky shot, I dropped one. I noticed a curious feature about this animal – his front legs were much smaller than his hind legs!
I turned back, because it was getting colder and fog had started to close in. Boy oh boy, how “the rains came”. Never had I seen it like this before. The going became tougher. Hungry, the coveralls became heavier and now a headache started. What a mess!
Coming onto the road, a truck picked me up, and at the pass we were stopped by an M.P., who advised us to walk because of landslides crossing the road at a few points. Hitting the road again – road, did I say? – really only a wide mountain track over which cascaded new-made swirling streams, thundering over into an abyss. Here a lorry was stuck in the mud and further down a boulder had come loose and planted itself in the middle of the track. At last we made the bottom, where we found a small hospital. We were fed warm soup and hot bully beef, which tasted just like steak – almost. Outside a jeep had a flat tire. I helped the fellow repair it and he took me to where I wanted to go.
The rain had ceased at last. Gee but my camp looked swell. Home and bed! What a comforting thought. That last stretch – it looked like a concrete highway – that is, it looked like one, but in reality it wasn’t. Taking a few steps, I fell into a deep mud hole. My gun was just coated with mud, and when I opened the bolt the brown slimy stuff oozed out through the barrel.
I showered and crawled slowly into bed. Then I thought – all the trouble – discomfort – the long trek – was it worth all I had seen and experienced. I’ll say.
Love, WOLFE