This letter, written by Chris Gralton, was sent to Felix and Philomen Jandreau, the parents of Clifford Jandreau, who was killed while serving in the U.S. Navy on Nov. 4, 1943. In his letter, Gralton explains their son’s military travels prior to his death serving in World War II.
Two of Clifford Jandreau’s brothers were Robert and Alphie, both former Caribou businessmen. Lucille, a sister and the youngest of the 11 siblings, is the late mother of Gayle Jackson, who works in advertising at the Aroostook Republican and News.
Contributed photo
Cliff Jandreau
172 Fountain Street, New Haven, Conn.
June 5, 1947
Dear Mrs. Jandreau;
When in a happy cheerful mood, as we exchanged signatures, it never occurred to me that one day I would try to explain, we had to part out there, and what significance “Remember Vella la Vella” really held.
Cliff and myself were very close in our work throughout our campaign below the equator, for he, Bill Roy and myself started the first camp for our outfit in the South Pacific when we landed at Lautoka, Viti Levic in the Fiji Islands.
I remember how we picked the best site for our tent, on high ground, and how happy we were to leave that ship and stay on dry land.
It was here that Cliff, Howard Doblec, Bill Roy, Victor Beverly and myself formed a little group that never parted until circumstances demanded it.
Cliff and myself were on watch patrol, aboard the ship of a seven-ship convoy as we raced from the Fiji’s to Guadalcanal, it was dangerous riding there at that time.
The letter, written by Chris Gralton, to the mother of the deceased Cliff Jandreau.
At Guadalcanal that night, when we landed in the pouring rain, we worked together to get a tent up, and later made our living quarters livable in a jungle, swampy area. Cliff knew more about felling trees than we did and willingly cut down trees, or showed us how to do it.
He seemed never to tire, and never required an urging to give one a helping hand. We made a large dugout for air raids, and made drainage to keep the water from the torrential rains out of our tent.
It was here that I noticed Cliff’s close attention to Mass, and he received communion quite frequently. It wasn’t because he was afraid of the future in regards to the war, for he was the bravest of the lot of us, he had courage and showed little fear of the dangers surrounding us.
We embarked for Vella la Vella together, and that never-to-be forgotten Aug. 15, 1945, we landed at the jungle beach. Here Cliff stayed near the LCI’s chopping down trees to help land our heavy equipment, until the Japs drove the lot of us to cover.
Cliff, Howard, Roy and Beverly were by a big tree, and Cliff and Howard seemed to be doing major work on their “fox hole.” A fellow named Beal came over to help me, but he was useless and Cliff, seeing I was faring badly there alone, willingly came over, split trees and helped me. Surely he too, had his hands full and it was pouring rain besides, but in times of stress, the real man always comes through. He was the swellest fellow I’ve ever met in the service and I am sure every fellow who came to know him would say the same.
From that first night on we lived in holes in the ground, large enough for two fellows to lie, full-length and just wide enough to permit turning.
Beverly always had some complaint, he was an inside worker back home and had difficulty getting used to roughing it, but we all marveled at how Cliff helped him, he did about all the fox hole work himself, for they associated themselves together, and became very good friends.
We never could get those holes water-proofed, either your feet or head always got wet. That along with Jap raids every half hour for the first 24 hours and we really were seeing war.
From then on nothing stopped us. We cleared the jungle, built a 4,900 ft. long field, about 400 ft. wide, with safety revetments for the plane after landing. We built a communication center, airplane repair station and parking areas for planes.
We came above ground around September; and, as we had to be near the field, we camped on a knoll above the field, here the Japs found us and bombed us for two nights in a row. I can remember Cliff and myself standing out in the open, trying to see the Jap in the moon-lighted sky, and just making the fox hole when the Jap dived and dropped his bombs. We had to leave there and go to a big dugout that was made for gangs working on the strip, here the roof was coconut logs and dirt and it leaked like a sieve. We slept with ponchos, shelter halves and everything waterproof between us and the roof. Once when the Japs came over, Cliff stayed with the marines, passing them their ammunition.
When the air strip was completed and 100 combat planes were leaving every day, we felt more secure and maybe, were a little lax in our observations of danger.
One day, one of our planes came in with a 500-pound bomb in a dangerous position, a danger warning was set up, and some C.B.’s of a demolition squad started to take the detonator out of the bomb (this is the gadget that explodes it), but before they succeeded, the bomb blew up, all those fellows taking the detonator out were killed and it happened that Cliff and Eric Brieby, another surveyor, were passing by close to the plane under which the bomb was, and came within the explosion area. They were both instantly killed, never knowing what happened to them. Tom Shannon and Le Grand were badly hurt, and in all, twelve or fourteen fellows were killed, including marines, New Zealanders and sailors from ships in the harbor.
We waited until afternoon at the surveyors tent, for the boys to return and then Chief Clark, a friend of Cliff’s, went to see if any of the fellows whose bodies were recovered, were Cliff. He found and identified him, Cliff not being mutilated like some of the others.
Never in any similar situation was there a more unhappy gathering, as all those fellows in the surveying parties, as we gathered at the tent that afternoon. Fellows would come and inquire as to whether Cliff had returned, figuring he may have been working at the other end of the island.
Late in the afternoon, when positive identification came, Lt. Reynolds and Chief Moss, who had seen death many times, openly cried, and every fellow present just let the tears have full play. Really, Mrs. Jandreau, words cannot describe the grief that the death of Cliff caused. We all admired and liked him and he was one of us.
Howard, Roy, Beverly and myself just sat in our tent (without him and his cheerful smile, it was pretty lonely) and no one talked. There just wasn’t anything to say. It was that way until we went to sleep, with just a quiet mention of some incident where Cliff made life really pleasant for us, and it all happened so suddenly, we just couldn’t believe it.
The next day we all gathered in the new cemetery along the beach, halfway between the American camp,and the New Zealanders. Here, all the bodies were beside the graves. All the ministers and priests of the individual denominations were there to read the services.
Our Chaplain blessed the grave and the body of the Catholics and the natives quietly laid those bodies to rest after the Guard of Honor fired the salute, and the bugle pealed its pitiful refrain, that these men died in this far-off lonely land, that America would be free of the damages and dangers of war.
Later as casualties came from other theatres of war, our little cemetery remained an impressive and hallowed area, growing to an institution that takes its place in the more sorrowful chapters of World War II.
The natives made an arch, at the head of the cemetery, in the shape of a church with some native designs signifying death and the going to their heaven after death.
Cliff had been very religious here at Vella la Vella, and many times I have seen him receive Holy Communion at mass in our tent church, whenever the Chaplain could find time and an area safe enough. Sunday was just another day here and when I used to see this bronzed young giant (he was sunburned to a bronze color) receive, I admired him very much. He never was known as other than a clean-living fellow and I am sure he was prepared spiritually, to go when God called.
I sincerely hope this little message has given you the information you desired, and if there is anything further that I have forgotten to write here and you would like to know, I will be only too glad to help you.
Very sincerely yours,
“Chris” Gralton
