page from the past
A World War II–era watercolor and ink sketch dated December 1945 depicts four servicemen seated closely around a table playing cards. Rendered in loose, expressive lines with muted green, tan, and brown washes, the scene shows an informal moment of rest and camaraderie. One man studies his cards while others lean in, suggesting concentration and quiet conversation. The handwritten note “Dec 17/45 ‘Bridge’” appears in the lower corner, indicating the card game and time period shortly after the war.
William Munro’s drawings and paintings capture the camaraderie of soldiers amid the hardships of war. Veterans History Project

The Art of War

William Munro captured vivid scenes of military life.
An art school graduate, William K. Munro (known to his family as Bud) was a talented artist with a knack for transforming everyday military life into compelling drawings, paintings or woodcuts.

His Veterans History Project collection consists of photographs and more than 300 wartime letters that he sent home during World War II, along with 370 works of art — sketchbooks, drawings, paintings (some made using shoe polish) and intricately crafted woodcut prints.

Before he was drafted into the Army in 1941, Munro worked as a muralist and commercial artist. After initially training as a medic, he served as a supply clerk for the 58th Medical Battalion, a unit that provided medical care to front-line troops in North Africa, Italy, France and Germany.

Munro witnessed firsthand the devastation of war. A few of his pieces depict the destruction of communities and individual lives. Yet, most of his work remains strikingly optimistic — lush landscapes, lively urban scenes and vivid snapshots of everyday life in war zones.

Perhaps most compelling are his portraits of fellow soldiers. His drawings and paintings capture the camaraderie that allowed these service members to endure the hardships of war. In his letters home, Munro often mentioned playing bridge with his buddies, a game that provided a crucial outlet for relaxation, and he used their games as an opportunity to sketch or paint.

As he reflected in a letter to his mother in 1945: “The fellows are gettin’ used to my sketching. … They glance over my shoulder, which act causes a puzzled brow, a broad grin, and an inquiring look about the room in a vain attempt to decide who is the object of the latest graphic gyrations of my brush.”

The joy for life that radiates from his art is perhaps best summed up by his preferred way of signing letters to his family: “Chin up, Bud.”

—Nathan Cross is an archivist in the American Folklife Center.