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29 October 1942

29 October 1942

Dear Folks:

I rang the bell today with three letters thanks to the ambition of Dick and Nancy and I’ll answer them ‘ poste roote’.  All were V letters.  For the past two weeks have been news fatherer for the outfit and when the next issue is pointed, I’ll send you the column to file among my service memories.  News is as scarce as a Jap in Lockheed so probably most of my letters are repetition.  Sure I get good grub.  I’m still riding a wave of optimism concerning the war and hope I’m right.  I can’t imagine it otherwise.

I can easily envision all the activity around the home site on Katie’s big day—just to meet Tommy would be something. Who’s going to say the words?  And to have Gram and Gramp there will be something too.

Well Christmas is again at hand and so far I’ve had a time finding anything suitable although I’ll find something.  Last Sunday went to church and our own too although the pews were warmed only by a major and two privates.

Guess I told you about the subscription to Time and The Reader’s Digest.

Sorry about the brevity of this but there isn’t any more—what a paltry of peas would taste like right now.

Love and goodnite,

Harold Moss Signature
20 October 1942

20 October 1942

Dear Dad:

Your V letter caught up with me so to end up another day will answer it now.  I’ve been waiting for a letter to tell you that you had received mine and probably by the time you read this you will have a room full.  As usual I can’t think of much to write about.  Days are about the same with the same routine.  I’m acting as correspondent of our battery for the island Army newspaper and spent part of the day writing news and the ballgame last Sunday.  We were defeated 15-0 but we’ve just begun to practice.  Perhaps yesterday was memorable-my first hot shower since my stay on the island.  Received a letter from Gram about Sonny Bennet—have been writing her about twice weekly.  Sent a card.  Waiting for Bob Hope to come on.  Had a letter from Mrs. Carroll giving me Duane’s address.  Perhaps I’ll write him.  Don’t worry about your literary style, Dad and wear out a few typewritten ribbons.

Love,

Harold Moss Signature
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