Books Archives - Page 4 of 6

20 March 1943

Dearest Dad:

It’s high time I sat down and once again wrote you a letter. I received yours a couple of days ago and I believe it was the only one during the week.

This is Saturday night. Although it’s been many weekends since I’ve enjoyed a civilian weekend, I was especially reminiscent on the subject tonight. I listened to The Hit Parade and some dance music and that helped recall those lost day of follies. Right now Fred Allen is on and it is always a marvel to me that both of us can listen to the same program. In a loose sort of a way it forms a feeling of nearness.

Next month I hope that I can have a few photographs taken. Good photographers are not in abundance but their work is acceptable. They are all Japanese, who all seem to possess a curious mania for cameras.

The bridge foursome got together again tonight and it was a successful session for me. We just finished a few minutes ago. I believe I am improving regardless of the dubious tutelage.

I hope that you have received the knick-knacks by now and it was too bad they couldn’t be there for Mom’s birthday. I am doing considerable reading and it seems that I can never read enough. There is such an infetertmable number of articles in my brain and the resulting consciousness of my inadequacy is very depressing.

Well I’ve come to the end of another very brief letter. Physically I’m very well and have not been on sick call since being on the islands. For all I think of you I should be able to write more and I do hate to stop. I’ll write tomorrow. A million times I’ve gone over the first day when I get home.

Love,

2 February 1943

Dear folks:

I’ve been wanting to sit down and write you a long letter, and until tonight something else seemed to take up my time. Perhaps tonight I can do it. What occupies my time mostly in the evenings is going to the show or reading. And when I do this, the first thing I know I’m behind several days in my letters or have little time to write anything more than a line or two. By taking advantage of the library on pass days and drawing books from the traveling library I manage to keep plenty to read on hand. I just finished a J. Hilton book tonight “And Now Goodbye”, a story of an English preacher and his inner urges. The Reader’s Digest is dissolved in short order but there is always some one who wants it next. The libraries are very limited in their law books and I have read all of them. I had intended to ask you to send me a couple but that is now impossible, or at least involves too much red tape to attempt.

I can never write a letter without recalling some of the beauty of the islands or their difference from the states. I wish I was in a better position to describe it more fully and let you know actually where I have been and what there is here, but I guess that will have to wait and for the time being be satisfied with generalities. Maybe I go a little off the deep end on the subject, but I don’t think so—it makes me realize this is just a sample of the world. What is over the next horizon? Although the sunsets perhaps aren’t congruous with the descriptions the travel bureau puts out, many of them are really stirring sight to see and the sunrises aren’t far behind, in their own right. The cloud formations near the mountains put the final touch to them. Maybe it’s the proximity of the old and new that is appealing. In many places what the people did a hundred or so years ago is still carried on, while on the other hand some of the places you go take you back to the hometown main street. At our weekly battery get together the highlight of the program was a talk on the islands by a Scotsman who came here a long time ago and who since then has visited most of the South Seas. He was a very good orator but aside from that he points out legends and places to visit, supplemented with technicolor pictures. Sometimes I get an uncontrollable urge to take off after the war and just start wandering and go in any direction I feel like. I could really discourse along here all night if I didn’t have to worry about the scissors. As far as I know none of your letters are censored, at least nothing has ever been deleted.

By the time you read this what you wanted should be on the way unless I can’t finveigle these oriental storekeepers to get sufficiently interested in my case. Whenever you ask information from one of them, nine times out of ten, are ‘no got’ and offer no suggestions or show a substitute.

When I get down to the final analysis perhaps I haven’t written any more than I usually do, but it is really hard to put together a newsy letter. Practically everything I do is GI and on the other hand everything GI in letters is verboten. My mail situation is pretty good all told, and I don’t go very many days without something from somebody. Had a letter from Gram today, says many foodstuffs are getting scarce but that otherwise everything is jake. I better write Katie tonight and thank them for the pictures and the gifts. I’ve really extended a sensible limit already so I’m going to stop and wait until I get another (letter) of yours to answer. And there’s no better way to end it than by repeating there’s no place like home.

Love,

14 January 1943

Dear Folks:

It isn’t long until hay time but perhaps I can get a few lines thrown together before the lights are out. I just came back from the show and it was “The Lure of the Islands”. It drew a lot of desultory (?) comments from the crowd. It is much more romantic than it actually is.

The month is half gone and I can hardly believe it. Nor can I realize it is 1943. I wonder where I would be if all this hadn’t happened but I guess that is foolish speculation. I wished I had a technical camera to round up a bunch of shots of flowers and trees. They are really beautiful and I’d give a lot to see a few in our backyard. There are more darn varieties and some are always in bloom. In some places the roads are lined on either side with banks of blossoms.

My mail has been slack lately but quess I haven’t been writing much. Suppose you have heard of the new postal regulations on packages and letters.

I spend the bulk of every evening reading or going to the show. The library in town is fairly well stocked so on pass I take care of my reading material. There is also a free traveling library that makes the rounds every two weeks.

I know you must feel there isn’t very much in what I write but activity is so routine, news is at a premium. But I think about home all the time. As a matter of fact, I was accused of talking of it in my sleep and know now there isn’t a better place in the world.

Well it’s adios until another time but let’s hope our battle of the inkwells ends before too long,

Love,

12 January 1943

Dear Folks:

It’s high time I got around to writing you again. Been several days now. Time seems to slip by faster than I can keep up with it. Was on pass today and saw a couple of things in a store that I thought you might like so they are on the way. I mailed them from a store so let me know if you get them. Quite a while back I sent Dan a knife among some things for you. Did you get it? You never said but I suppose you have.

Here I am at the end of the first paragraph and I’m stymied already. Had a letter from Katie today and it was full of pep and life. Said she mailed me a picture of her and Tom but I haven’t gotten it yet but it takes quite a while I guess. The gal in Washington is very faithful in writing. Had a picture from her yesterday. I sure miss the midnight turkey we used to have. Sunday afternoon took in the civilian dance and had some fun and arranged for some in the future. Just a few minutes ago came back from the show. Having movies every night helps a lot. I was going to put in another request for something but I see that packages from the mainland have been curtailed except on request from an officer. Lately I’ve been reading some law books and have read all in the library in town and can’t get anymore that I want. That’s why there has been fewer letters. I get to reading and forget to write. Saw “This Above All” last night but didn’t go for the film version as much as the book. The ending especially seemed to dampen its dramatic punch.

I hate to nip this off in this stage but I can’t do very much about it. It’s hard as heck to write a letter. I’m really feeling fine and getting a lot of good grub and developing a stenographer’s spread working in the office. Tomorrow night means the weekly battery get together in the rec hall. They are quite a bit of fun and everyone that comes seems to have a good time. I’ve almost forgotten what winter is like although it gets pretty cool in the evenings and early morning. I’ll stick myself with a pin where it will do the most good and write more often.

I want to get back to all of you as soon as possible and when I do I won’t take anything for granted as I did before.

Love,

4 January 1943

Dear Folks:

I guess a typewriter isn’t the approved method of writing a letter but I know you won’t mind so here goes. After I get through writing everyone else, I end up the evening writing you and making a composite of everything I put in the others. It’s amusing to watch the guys writing a letter. It’s really a job and most of the time is spent trying to think of something to write about, one sentence or so then a fifteen minute brain scratching. Today was a red letter day for mail—eight was the combined total and among them was a card from the Conklins and a card and a letter from Gracie and Louie. She didn’t intimate that they were nearing the rocks—perhaps everything has been smoothed over. Had a letter from Katie and she told me about the pajama and nightgown swiping. Said she’d never forget those first two nights.

On the first had a free day and spent most of it at a USO dance that was well stocked with she-males for a change. They last from one to five in the afternoon and usually the music is furnished by an army swing band. There are a lot of jitterbuggers and an oiled seaman or two are the life of the party. I guess this guy with the oversized arrow makes a living spearing fish. I saw them doing it one day but isn’t as glamorous as pictured and they don’t run around that raw. (Must be referring to the native spear fishing on the stationery).

I feel pretty good tonight. First there was a nice batch of mail and then I read about Halsey’s forecast of the war. For some reason I really feel that I’ll be out in another year and that really isn’t so long. I’m even looking forward to staying up all night next New Year’s. But right now it’s really hard to imagine wearing civilian clothes again and doing things on your own time schedule. When that day does come I think we’ll all go nuts for a while.

Had a letter and a picture from the gal in Washington but that was purely platonic and she was more of a conversationalist than a romanticist. But she was really swell and I don’t think I’ll ever forget her. She was a cook in the nurse’s mess hall and I miss the midnight meals we used to have.

I’m still reading some law books and have digested three so far but I don’t know how much I have gotten from them. At least it won’t do me any harm and it’s a worthwhile pastime in the evenings when I’m not writing to you. If I go back to school that’s what I’m going to study.

This is it tonight, what there is of it. Should have a letter from you tomorrow.

Goodnight and I’ll see you in the next letter.

Love,

28 December 1942

Dearest Folks:

I’ve neglected you somewhat in the last few days as a result of a change in the battery but I’m back to normal so there shouldn’t be any more delay. I think that this change is a good one for me and possibly may open some opportunities. The fellows are from New York state and have an accent and a manner I hadn’t been around before. But they seem pretty swell and I hope I make out. And here I don’t have to ‘sanitarize’ in a ditch and wait for Saturdays to see a show or cuss a clogged up lantern for light. I hope I have the same opinion of the place a month from today as I do now.

I haven’t heard from Katie since she got her spouse but I guess she’s pretty wrapped up in the newness of the thing. I sure hope they make out okeh. Had two letters from Gram, and I better answer them tonight. I guess I made a mistake when I asked her for “Harper’s”. It should have been the “American Mercury”. By the way, in Gram’s letters she put quite an emphasis on the qualities of Wylma and what I ought to do about it when the brawl is over. Maybe she’s right but I don’t know. I thought I had a letter from Dick today at first glance and I was disappointed when it belonged to another Moss. Dad’s long V-mail came today. If anyone has a literary style, he is certainly the one but that’s unimportant. Wished I could conjure up enough words like he does.

This is really the limit to my effort tonight. There isn’t much to write about. Going to a show in a half hour and digest a “Horse Opera”. Have about four law books now. I’m going to read them if it takes the duration and six months. Just finished one. I hate to say goodnight but it would take me an hour for another paragraph.

Love,

19 December 1942

Dear Folks:

It’s time I was writing you again and this is a better time than any. But first your birthday card that came yesterday. I got kind of dewy around the eyeballs when I read it. And the money order was there and it will make my birthday merrier. Thank you so much.

Well tomorrow is the day that we celebrate our Christmas on. It is a fiesta natively called a “luau” or approximately that. The chickens and a pig are cooked on hot rocks in an open pit. And all the eating is done with fingers. I’m looking forward to it—it sounds good. I have my camera loaded so I’ll get some pictures.

Yesterday it seems a little funny then, a sergeant and myself were shopping for Christmas decorations for our mess hall tree. With pure masculine tendencies we bought anything that we thought would be appropriate and ended up with everything from snow for the bottom to a star for the top. The mess hall is being decorated with Christmas posters and cards. A few nights back the Chaplain came over with a little wheezy one lung organ and we took part in a little community singing. A couple of Christmas carols took us back five years or so. The canteen also shows Christmas with some very good posters by the battery artist. By the way, the PX is officially titled “Myrtle’s Mansion”.

While I was relaxing one night about a week ago thought it might be profitable to read something of a professional nature so went to the library and drew a couple of law books and one on economics. One half of them are read and I hope to get time to get through them all.

Recently an outfit installed an outdoor theater of a sort and tonight the first film is being run. This will do a lot to dissolve restlessness in the evenings.

I believe this will suffice for tonight so must leave something for tomorrow. I’ll give you an account of the “luau”.

I’ll be with you Christmas although not in the house.

Love,

15 December 1942

Dear Folks:

Five days have gone by without a letter to you so I better do something about it. I just inhaled two cream puffs and my stomach feels like a little man cleaning the inside of a locomotive boiler. Anyway here goes. I don’t know where to start, or what to write about that would be very interesting or different but maybe I can find something. On pass last Saturday went to the USO dance and watched two dozen girls get mobbed by two thousand soldiers. I left early—disgusted and disappointed. The only thing I did was eat a fair meal and listen to military music in a clubroom. Sunday failed to go to church, although attendance is encouraged and made possible.

Had a letter from Gram sent from Minatare. Gramp looks like a Southern revivalist and Gram the product of his preaching. The pictures came yesterday—what finery and rainment. They were good and they’ll always torture the seams of my billfold. A couple of the guys thought Dad was the guy with the ring. And Mom, you looked like you were going to a teenage waltz party. I should have a batch for you in a day or two. I don’t suppose the other packages have gotten to you yet. And the Reader’s Digest hasn’t come, although I have a notice of subscription.

I just finished Clarence Danow’s own life story and it recalled the days when Paul would let me revel in the mysteries of the typewriter book in Greeley. It’s a good book with many philosophies and ideals, but embraces many points of argument, of which I found plenty and wondered if I was right.

One of the most pleasing nights on the islands are the cloud formations. Sometimes they are fleecy and downy and form a collar around the mountain cones. But they are especially unique in the morning at sunrise and at sunset. The sun seems to permeate them and make them glow.

Last Sunday when I was driving I saw about five natives spearing fish. They go out about a hundred yards or so and have a spear that they handle like an arrow. I can’t figure out how they stay under so long.

This is all I can throw together this time.

Love,

10 December 1942

Dear Dad:

It has been a long time since I last wrote but if the family tatters the edges of those I write then I guess I can be excused, but I do want to write you often and keep as close to all of you as I can. Tonight was a landoffice business on mail and about everyone rated something. I had two and a postcard; one from Pat and a card from the Reader’s Digest about the subscription. I have about a dozen books on my bed but the Digest is a must. The town nearby operates a free library or rather a traveling free library. Also the Red Cross supplies us with plenty of old magazines.

Tonight the radio is going on as usual and right now it’s Major Bowes. Radio batteries are pretty non-existent. I guess the WPB has ruled them out for commercial purposes. For other entertainment the USO makes movies possible. They are shown in the recreation room of the hospital. Most of the fellows are attending. But I walked to the irrigation ditch for a bath and didn’t make it back. The army has a PX in town that is pretty well stocked and where soldiers can get essentials and supplies at reasonable cost.

There is a little news—have a pass on Saturday to go to the beach, wouldn’t you like to swim in December? The flowers are getting prettier all the time.

Last night I sent you the paper and a letter so I’ll slack off.

I’m in good spirits and better health—this sunshine is a good tonic. Hurry with Katie’s pictures. Goodnite and I’ll take you up on the jacket.

Love,

13 November 1942

Dear Folks:

If you could see me writing this one you might get a good laugh—sitting on the floor using a stack of books for a back prop and a cracker box for a desk. Now you’ve got the setting, get set for some dopey dogma. Since the last time I sent you a letter I’ve received three of yours so it’s a good time I got ambitious again and one from Dan and Dick.

To get underway—what you really want to know about. Managed to make it to church last Sunday then tackled a vahine at a hoedown. She danced like an epileptic fit but I’m no Astair. The remainder of the week could be covered in about one word “ditto”. My mail has been on the lookin’ up side. I got squalmy one nite when the stars were dishing out and wrote a letter to Wylema. Said she dropped you a note about it. Guess I’m still a Houdini puzzle.

All the words about Katie’s jump takes on the scope of a witch dance—wished I was operating one of the drums but you know that.

I finally adopted an edition of “Shake Hands with the Dragon” that you mentioned. Haven’t got the dust from it yet.

Now don’t ration your stationery on me. Everyone I answer. You’re doing swell and I got plenty of ink too.

This covers it again I guess. Again soon I’ll take a three hour barah(?) and devote it all to you.

I’ve got more memories than mosquito bites and I need eight arms to scratch ‘em.

Love,