LET ME CALL YOU SWEETHEART by David VanBuskirk
The bright colors of the spread-eagle wings caught my attention. The year 1944, painted in blue on the lower rim of the watermelon-shaped bracelet, jumped out at me, as did the blue lettering “China Burma India” along the top edge. The clear lacquer coating had preserved the colors in their original magnificence and glistened in the afternoon sun. What a beautiful piece of sweetheart jewelry, I thought, time has been kind to what once was a lady’s treasure.
“How much for the bracelet?” I asked the lady in charge of the yard sale.
“Give me five bucks and it’s yours,” came the reply.
“I’ll take it,” I said and handed her a sawbuck.
One of the oldest traditions of our soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines is sending jewelry to their wives, mothers, sisters, and sweethearts back home. The custom is believed to have originated during the trench warfare of WWI and has continued through all of America’s wars.
Most sweetheart jewelry is machine made, but many pieces are handcrafted. During WWI, the Doughboys in the trenches had a lot of idle time on their hands. To keep themselves busy during the long hours of boredom, many of the soldiers made pieces of jewelry for someone special back home. These hand-crafted tokens of love were made in the battlefield trenches, so they are commonly referred to as “trench art.”
The troops fashioned sweetheart jewelry out of any available material: a piece of wire, a sliver of mother-of-pearl, or a knuckle of wood. Even brass casings from artillery shells and pieces of aluminum from downed or damaged airplanes found itself recycled into pins or pendants.
During WWII, one of the favorite ways to show patriotism and feel close to those serving our country was to wear a special piece of jewelry reflecting the branch of service that a sweetheart represented. Some pieces worn by family members were adorned with stars, one for each member serving.
Because mothers were included in the sweetheart jewelry category, many pieces were made to feature the “mother” designation.
I have a friend who is also the widow of a WWII veteran. While visiting Martha, I spotted a sweetheart bracelet proudly displayed with other military mementos. I recognized the China, Burma, India (CBI) Theater of Operations insignia.
“That’s an interesting looking bracelet,” I commented.
“My husband sent that to me from India,” Martha said. “Would you like to see it?”
“I’d love to,” I answered. “I recently bought a bracelet that came from the CBI Theater. It’s designed a lot different than yours, though.”
“Most of my girlfriends got some sort of jewelry from their husbands and sweethearts,” she told me. “I don’t recall any of us getting the same thing as anyone else.”
The design of sweetheart jewelry has no limits. It may represent the rank insignia of a recently promoted soldier, or a stick pin representing the wings of a fighter pilot. Or it may be designed like my new bracelet, representing a particular unit, location, or event.
A unique aspect of sweetheart jewelry is that each piece comes with a story to tell. As I studied Martha’s bracelet, I wondered about its history.
“When did you get your bracelet?” I asked her.
“Just before Christmas, 1944,” she sighed. “I was having a terrible day. I was feeling sorry for myself, and I was lonely for my best friend. It had been weeks since I’d heard from him. That afternoon the postman handed me a little square package, and a small bundle of letters from Ray, neatly tied together with binding twine.”
“That must have lifted your spirits,” I said.
“Oh, it did,” she chuckled. “I was on cloud nine.”
Martha relived the memory of that day long past. “I sat down at the kitchen table,” she started, “and I felt like I was moving in slow motion. I untied the string from around the package and gently removed the brown paper wrapping. Inside the little cardboard box was a carefully folded, multi-page letter. Under the letter, nestled in cotton packing, lay my bracelet. My eyes watered a little when I touched the cool metal, but as I gently picked up the bracelet, the metal became warm. I felt a wave of emotion, as if I had just touched my husband. It was the closest I’d been to Ray in almost three years.”
“What did you do then?”
“I cried like a baby. Then I arranged his letters by date and started reading.”
“Did Ray tell you where he got the bracelet?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “He and some buddies went to a local metal-smith shop in Lido.”
“Did all of the guys get bracelets?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” she answered. “Ray said it was like going to a jewelry store back home. The merchant sold all sorts of bracelets, pins, brooches, pendants, necklaces, and other jewelry. One of his buddies bought his girlfriend a lapel pin fashioned after his new Sergeant stripes.”
After leaving my friend’s house, I did a little more research and found that the giving of sweetheart jewelry hasn’t been limited to American servicemen. During WWI and beyond, both our allies and our enemies have suffered many of the same hardships and extended periods of loneliness, so the tradition began on both sides of the trenches.
Neither is sweetheart jewelry restricted to war zones or other overseas posts. Between wars, the giving of sweetheart jewelry has become a common gesture. As a young stateside Marine in 1961, I gave my girlfriend a piece of peace-time sweetheart jewelry—a lapel pin featuring a small Marine Corps emblem, attached by a chain to a diamond shaped device with the initials, “USMC.” Many years later, when I was promoted to Staff Sergeant, my wife got a lapel pin made to resemble my new rank insignia—three stripes and one rocker.
My little brother sent his wife a colorful brooch from Vietnam representing his U.S. Marine Corps air wing attack squadron.
War extends beyond the battlefield, and so long as there are men and women serving in our military, the tradition of giving sweetheart jewelry will continue. For mothers, wives, sisters, and sweethearts back home, these gifts of love provide a tangible reminder of a loved one performing his, or her, duties in a faraway land.
