Dances Archives - Page 2 of 3

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,

2 January 1943

Dearest Folks:

I’ve really been slackening up writing you and I don’t know why-guess time is going faster than I realize, but lately I have been working in a personnel office and there are many things to find out that I didn’t know. It’s pretty good work—I hope I like it and make out good. Cinemas are available every night here and instead of staying in the billet, writing and reading like I should, I takeoff for the theatre and swat mosquitoes between shifting my aching posterior. The one tonight was a solid murder muddle.

Yesterday was one of those days again that mean a little respite from the routine—it was the first and I was on pass. Ate a good heap of grub then took off for town. Went to the dance at the gym and for the first time the ratio of she’s to he’s wasn’t so great as the last time. Went quite a few rounds and almost didn’t make it back in time.

Here are a few pictures I took when I was on pass. The pictures of the stage and the meal were all taken during the ‘luau’ that I told you about. Most of the fellows seem to be surveying the offering with a quizzical curiosity. I took one of myself with a tentacle of squid dangling from my mouth but apparently it didn’t turn out. The hat I’m wearing is a native boy’s version in palm leaves of a Dobbs cross-country. In some of the pictures you can see the cloud formations I was telling you about.

I had a letter from Dick a few days ago sent from Oklahoma but he didn’t say enough to tell much what he was doing. I hope the next one will be a little more comprehensive. Had a two page manuscript from Gram and a card from the Peters. I never have answered any of the cards sent to me for Christmas and I better make a resolution and do something about it.

It’s really hard to write a letter-or at least it is for me-so little happens that is not patterned and too, I can’t mention everything. But things are very comfortable, good housing, good food and enough facilities for recreation. That’s my version although it might not be everyones. There are all kinds of predictions pro and con on the war topic but the news seems to be looking up-at least as we hear and read it-and I believe it is, although what is ahead will undoubtedly be the toughest.

Now I’m coming to the end of this and that’s always the most difficult part—how to end a letter properly. Maybe I won’t be so crude and unconscious of the time and trouble mixed in my recipe for the last twenty years or so when this is over. I know I want to get back and go to school again. I think about you all the time. Goodnight.

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,

23 November 1942

Dear Folks:

Again at my nocturnal duty of writing you but afraid it won’t be bulging with much news. Again today received another package and from Wylma—some cigarettes and high tone, sweet smelling soap in her very practical vein. Is she fanning a dying ash or did I ask for it when I wrote her? Suppose by the time you get this, the tribe will be recuperating from the ceremonies—and I’ll be waiting for the photographic version of it all. And by this time suppose Gram is with you hustling about whooping it up in her sweet way.

And I don’t want to fail to mention the card I got from the Chambers in Alliance with a letter attached. With the nine boxes I’ve received I have everything from Bibles to fruitcake. I think I top the list in boxes.

I couldn’t forestall the chowhounds any longer so tonight we mauled our molars over the fruitcake. It was so darned good I hated to eat it.

Convalescing from our rhumba attempts last night we took a hand at banking over a megaphone for this evening’s routine. We’ve got one corporal in the barracks that could double for a Barnum tutored protégé. And this to a grating recording machine and grab a corner for some rare entertainment.

This is about the fourth letter from Dick’s pen tonight and it’s about time to laps so here’s the end of another one. I’ll be back again in a few hours.

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,

1 November 1942

Dear Nancy:

Guess there’s no better way to start the month than a letter to you—received yours recently and Dick’s too and I like to get your letters so much. Guess (I) was sort of secretive on the mainland but now I write like a Russian revolutionist. Tonite another Saturday and right now the Hit Parade is on—quite a contrast to most I’ve known. Tomorrow is my pass day and I intend to go to church and later to the dance. Of course there are no evening dances here—all in the afternoon. Presently the excitement is payday. Then some shopping for all of you. Suppose you are having as much a thrill about the wedding as Katie and you want to have plenty of hankeys ready for prom. Write often Nancy and you’ll always get a reply. I’m going to listen to you practice a play and (spend the) whole day with you when I get home.

Love,

20 September 1942

Dear Folks:

It’s getting pretty dark to write but perhaps I can get it done before it is completely dark. I sent you a letter about a week ago by regular mail and I’m afraid you won’t receive it for some time, so thought I better write another. Well I’m a couple of thousand miles more away from home across a stretch of Pacific in the Hawaiian Islands and what a pretty place—lots of flowers, sugar cane and pineapple. Haven’t seen any hula dancers yet although they gave a show for the troops today. Last night heard a program of real Hawaiian music by some native Hawaiians and it seems much nicer to hear it over here. You’d go nuts Mom over all these flowers and shade trees. For the last few days have been swimming almost daily and this afternoon was no exception. It’s about two miles to the pool but it’s worth it, I mean the walk. Yesterday afternoon there was a dance in a big USO building in a nearby town and to my surprise we were granted passes so we took a bus in and swang a few. Boy what a conglomeration of people—Japs, Chinks, Hawaiians, Puerto Ricans and plenty of half breeds. I think I danced with about one of each. The USO has plenty of facilities for sports so not lacking on that issue. There are several tennis courts, swimming pools, dance halls, bowling alleys and ball diamonds and we’ve had access to them quite often lately. I just got back from swimming about an hour ago and after a big supper feel pretty good. It just started to rain so I had to pull this typewriter into a tent so from the cramped quarters you’ll have to accept a few mistakes. The day after we got here I received a letter from Gladys Davis and of course it was full of news as is Gladys. She told me all about the fellows and the Davis’. Then I also had a letter from you—one you had written before you visited me at (Camp) Stoneman. And a few days back had a letter from Patsy and her flamboyant style makes her letters worth reading. Also had one from Gram that I’ll have to answer tonight. I suppose there are plenty of details you’d like to know about such as crossing and place I’m at but that’s on the verboten list so you’ll have to ask me when I get back. Anyway the important thing is that you have a general idea of my whereabouts. Of course our letters are now censored but that shouldn’t be too much of a stigma although some of the fellows don’t exactly like to have some of their letters read. I’m as well as ever getting plenty of sunshine and exercise and a pass occasionally and all in all it reminds me a little bit of being back in California. Blackouts are every night so I hit the hay early unless I get a show pass. Beer is two bits a bottle and about as weak as pop, but it’s beer. Sleeping on the ground and boxing mosquitoes isn’t exactly home but there are plenty of places that could be worse. Anyway I’m getting used to it after the tenderness left my hips and I got to carving out some hip holes before laying down on my bed. Suppose Nancy and Phil are well along in school by now, with Nancy crazy about it and Dan taking it a little grudgingly. This is a little disjointed and unorganized but for lack of time I’m writing on something that comes to me. Now I’m back in the open again since it’s stopped raining but suppose it will start again. This is the first time I’ve thought about Christmas in September but we better be doing it in order that our packages arrive somewhere near the holiday. I shouldn’t have much trouble finding things over here that you would like. It hardly seems possible that winter is almost here again and that I’ve another birthday coming up but I guess it is. Looks like two Christmases away from home and if I could look forward to being home for it in 1943 I’d be as happy as if it were a furlough. There are some rumors of furloughs after a certain duration in the tropics, if this is considered the tropics, but I know little about it. That’s quite a ways away anyway. It was swell to see you for a few days in (Camp) Stoneman and it doesn’t seem it was a month ago. Bet I had an awkward look on my face when I met you in the visitor’s building. It didn’t seem like it was really you. Is Kate still in Denver and has she heard anything about the navy yet? In a way I hate to see her in the navy but I think it’s a pretty good deal for her. Running out of paper so better pull the curtain. See you in the next letter.

Love,

21 August 1942

Dear Folks:

Just finished chow, there handed out the mail so can answer your letter before I clean my lingerie. I am wondering when you will get this letter because soon our mail is going to be held up until our convoy arrives—all communication is. But you keep writing though because they come through alright.

Had a retreat parade tonight and also had our pictures taken. Plenty hot—I smell like a goat. We got those new type helmets without the brim and they certainly make a guy look foreign and odd. But they are comfortable and not quite as heavy as the other. Got a whole slew of new equipment yesterday so about everything I have is new now. Been running up to the hospital today getting some signatures on the payroll. One ward I was in was the venereal section. Passes have been stopped so things must be getting hot.

Was going to a dance last night in camp but no gals and no band—some deal so went to a show. It was a stinker too.

Just came back from the PX—was it jammed—the boys had some beer and were signing old war songs and other old timers.

The place is crammed with visitors but the boys can only see them at the gate.

Will close now not so much of a letter but it’s something.

Love,

22 July 1942

Dear Folks:

Time to write another letter while I’m goldbricking and while there is still some semblance of coolness in the air. Next Tuesday, a week from today we will be back in Fort Lewis and that won’t be too soon for me. Last Saturday and Sunday was in Yakima and had a good time getting my fill of dancing and good time. The place is about like Scottsbluff with eight some thousand people. There are plenty of places to go(to) and nice parks to go to. Also went to the Episcopal church, typical of most, covered with foliage and made of brick. Next Sunday and Saturday afternoon thinking of going berry or fruit picking. There is a shortage of workers so the soldiers are making up parties and picking in their spare time. Six thousand went out from Ft. Lewis last Sunday and there will probably be more this weekend.

Had a little excitement last nite when a seven foot rattlesnake attempted to share a fellow’s sleeping bag with him.

There are rumors that when our outfit returns to Lewis the cadre is going to Oregon and the outfit back to California. No word about furloughs. This morning we got a letter from an irate Montanan father who requested his son be granted a 30 day furlough. Of course it was turned down—impossible now.

Yesterday was a day of excitement and a little tragedy. It seems that C battery is a jinx for hard luck. Yesterday afternoon two cooks were burned, one seriously, when a unit in the stove blew up and sprayed gasoline all over the truck and the whole kitchen. The orderly tent is just a few yards from it and when it blew up we heard it first. Both cooks jumped off the truck screaming hysterically and flaming like torches. We threw blankets around them and rushed them to the doctor. Last nite and today one was given blood transfusions. The one most seriously burned happens to live in Yakima and can be with his folks. Before we got him out, two of his ribs were sticking out. That’s the first time I ever saw anyone so seriously burned and I was plenty jittery.

Later in the day we went swimming and when we got back we had to fight a prairie fire that was headed for the camp. The dust and smoke was so thick I could hardly breathe and it was one o’clock a.m. before I got to bed. The whole camp was there with trucks and graders and sprinklers and it was a great holocaust of excitement. Jeeps were tearing around like mad hens and bugles were blowing somewhere in the dust.

Guess this is enough for this time—going to a USO dance tonight if nothing else happens.

Some Red Cross women came around this morning with a station wagon full of cookies to put in our lunches. They wanted to see the stoves and help make the sandwiches so they pitched in. One lady went for a jeep ride and bounced all over the seat. We gave them about ten pounds of sugar and some grease.

Well see you in the next letter.

Love,