Dick Moss Archives - Page 13 of 14

27 November 1942

Dear Folks:

I’ve neglected you for the past three days but a combination of circumstances were responsible, not altogether my own laxity. Anyway to recover a lost round here goes. I can easily imagine what is uppermost in your mind. Bet everybody was having a swell time all day for the home circle with the wedding and the following fiesta. Well that’s for you to give me the lowdown on—so I’ll give you the dope as it happened on my holiday. The day coincided with my pass day so I slept in until nine o’clock, then loafed around until noon. We were all epicurean artists. They had everything from legendary soup to nuts—with about two pounds of turkey per head. We even inveigled a quart of wine to use in the sauce. When I got up I felt like Harry Johnson looks and had both belt ends flapping away from a tortured stomach. I could only look sadly at the coconut frosted cake and pass it by. In the afternoon I went into town, had a few beers and returned to camp. The liquor situation is pretty acute and places open only as shipments permit. Yesterday being a holiday, a few places were open and everyone was filled.

I sent Katie a message but afraid it didn’t reach her in time—anyway you can forward it to them. Now I’ll chew my nails until the pictures get here and your letters giving me the scoop. From the time I got up yesterday I imagined everything that was going on at the minute—but with my limited familiarity with nuptial rites I’m afraid my imagination went awry. Dick as an usher forced quite an imagination.

Yes, Captain Olson is still my CO.

I think this (is) all I can compose this time. I write about the battery once a week in the paper—perhaps I should send you the clippings as memoirs.

It’s another Thanksgiving gone into history and let’s hope that on the next one we’ll be thankful the war is over.

Buenos Noches tonight.

Love,

8 October 1942

Dearest Folks:

Can’t think of much to write about but at least it will be something. Received the letter in which you mentioned Katie’s coming marriage-suppose such things are inevitable but I can’t imagine her with a husband. And I won’t be there for the occasion-probably the biggest thing since Nancy was born. Send me a picture of Tommy when you get one. By the tone of her letters I thought he was little more than another flame. Haven’t received a letter from her since I’ve been on the islands. Can see you doing all your canning and although I disliked helping you wished I was there. Also I received an old issue of the Free Press that I gobbled it up like an Esquire issue. Going on pass tomorrow for a little fun in town. Also received a letter from Dick in Pando and one from Gram. Gram said June was in the hospital so suppose I am an uncle by several weeks now. I am happy and satisfied and just biding my time until this is all over. Believe my discharge will be an even greater occasion than my wedding. I wish I was with you so much it hurts but it’s hurting plenty others too.

Love,

17 August 1942

Dear Folks:

It’s getting pretty late and my vision has been reduced to almost zero from doing a lot of paperwork today but not enough so that I can’t still pound you out a letter. Just wrote about three tonight. I’m official mail orderly now and I am treated like a coddled child by doting parents. I am the only one who can handle it. Starting to get a little strict about it.

Well I went thru all the physical examinations okay so I guess I’m ready for anything. I was glad to hear the doctor say my teeth were sound. He prodded and hit around but said all fillings were okay. Have extra glasses ordered and today was requisitioned for much new equipment. Man they throw out anything if there is even a little defect in it.

Guess maybe I better fish out your letter and see what you said so we can get together on who wants to (do) what about what. I’d like to have been there to round out your happiness and made it a complete circle but the army holds the compass now. Daily or almost I have been writing in a little book about small things I think will hold the greatest enjoyment when Tojo goes down with the Sun. It’s an account of how I feel, thimble sized scribblings on peculiar or outstanding fellows in the outfit, what I think about, and what I look forward to and in general a complete account of the battery and what I think of it. It would be most revealing if anyone should read it. I want to keep it up and perhaps later group it into a more logical and chronological account. If we see action I should have plenty of opportunity for lengthy episodes.

In my letter to Dick I tried to impress upon him the privilege of going to college and I hope he won’t let me down. I know he has the stuff, odd as he may seem and I’m banking on him. I would have liked to have sat in on the bull session of Glen & Kate’s and exercised my belly a little on the reminiscin’ too. About the crests, or buttons, they are or were the official insignia of the battalion. Lately these were abolished for a newer design. The three items in the corner signify a war but I can’t think of them now. Of course the inscription at the bottom is self explanatory. I had three but gave one to the girls in Fort Lewis. We wear one on our cap and two on our blouse—but of course now all identifying marks have been taken away so thought I might as well send them to you. What do I do when I get a hole in my sock? Turn them in for a new pair, but they are good socks. Out of the original issue of six pairs last year, only one has been turned in for new ones. Guess that takes care of the letter.

Last Sunday got a pass so went to Frisco and Oakland but had little fun out of it. Unless you have someone to see on the outside, passes aren’t of much worth. Barrage balloons look like a circus man’s balloon bouquet over ‘Frisco.

There are certainly a lot of visitors that come to see the boys. Sunday cars were lined up like a county fair and people milling around waiting for their guy to come. They have a loudspeaker system that facilitates locating visitors for the soldiers. About a mile away is a little burg ‘bout the size of Mitchell and made up mostly of waps and Spaniards who work in the mills around (there). A few days we signed a slip saying we understood fully the consequences of desertion and AWOL; guess they can’t take any chances now.

I hope you keep up your moral and don’t worry about mine. I’m alright but I do a little worrying about you and know some of the anxiety you must feel but I got the best Uncle in the world taking care of me. Everybody else in the barracks is sleeping and I suspect that I better follow or this typewriter might wake them up. It’s funny the turn of events that take place in a man’s life. I always thought that wars were something that made reading in a history chapter and something apart from actuality, but here I am getting a bonus for working in a human slaughterhouse, with a lot overtime and no danger of being fired. Guess I shouldn’t write this way to you but the whole futility of it all starts me thinking. I could write all night upon it but that’s no good—not now. I don’t want you to worry because one good thing from this mess I will make the Buckingham Palace look like an Arkansas outhouse beside my home and folks. Memories are something man lives by and now and the six biggest all begin with an M.

Guess I’ve said enough tonight—what color do you like in Japanese kimonos?

Love,

13 July 1942

Dear Folks:

It’s lunch time now and I feel inclined to write so here goes before one o’clock comes around.

I took some pictures a few days ago that show the camp and thought you would be interested. The tent is our orderly room (1), two and three are general pictures of the camp with our battery in the foreground. In the background is Yakima Valley and beyond that is Mt. Rainier that didn’t show up in the picture. Number four shows our guns, the nearest one being camouflaged with sagebrush, five is our kitchen—looks like a lonely outpost on the desert doesn’t it? The stoves and ranges are in the back of the truck barely visible. Six is me in front of my boudoir and in the background is a truck tarpaulin under which we put our barracks bags and hang our clothes. Seven is our washstand—notice the bleak background. The other picture shows a gun the same as ours, it shows three of the crew of eight.

Well everything else is normal. Something really funny happened yesterday in the field. A slap happy dodo that you find in every outfit was wanting a match for a cigarette very badly and not finding one promised he was going to stop the next person and get the match. Well it was the general himself on a visit so he was the victim. He was a little taken back but obliged with a grin.

So long for now.

Love,

Enclosed in this envelope was another 2 page handwritten letter, signed only “Mother” (Harold’s grandmother, Gram Waid):

Friday PM

My dear children:

It seems so long since I heard from you folks. Jim got Dick’s letter and we all enjoyed it a lot, coming from him. Am glad he got work so quick for know he isn’t happy sitting around. I intended sending his clothes this week but have been pretty busy with my little girl. Her mother isn’t getting along very well. We insisted on her being taken home Wednesday evening. We loved the little thing. Too much for me. One of those little folks that had a way of getting into things. Well Jim’s vacation hasn’t ended yet. He really needed the rest and lighter work. He has some prospect of getting on for the City commencing Monday morning. We expect to hear from Howard Jackson every day to say when he can get off to come and see us. Am making some cookies to send to him tomorrow. Will make some for Harold soon but haven’t heard from him for some time. A letter would sure look good and relieve my mind a lot. I do love him so. I wish things had turned out so you could have come out this summer but we must go on hoping for a meeting later on. Phillip Grave is sorry I forgot your birthday. Will make it good soon. Dick and I talked about it just before he left and I can’t understand how I forgot it. Just to show you how scarce rooms are here. I’ll tell you we rented the garage to two fellows to sleep in. In order to lawfully do it, must offer them use of bath and toilet. They haven’t been in yet. They both stay at North Island and only want garage to sleep in. There isn’t anything to rent on the island and lots of building going on, houses for sale but not to rent. When this is over people will be leaving here like rats. Of course you get all the war news so I can’t add anything to it. To say the least, it’s awful. We have found it hard to get by with so little sugar. They tell us we can use our no. 7 tomorrow. This will save the day for me. Not much baking these days. If one could feel it was necessary, it wouldn’t hurt so. They tell us coffee will be rationed next. June and I have a little canned goods stored away. Am getting some more next week. Russia is in for it. Guess Hitler gets them all doesn’t he. Let’s hope we don’t have him to deal with. Hope the second had business is increasing. Guess Dick told you about my new furniture. It’s at least a little improvement on the old. And we must be thankful for small favors. Junes are all well. She lives very easily of course. Karen is anxiously waiting her little baby brother’s appearance. Mrs. Johnson hasn’t mentioned anything about taking Karen and I hope she doesn’t for I would like to keep her of course. I wonder about Kathleen. How she is and must write her sometime. Seems to go so fast. Maybe it is a good thing. Well think I have told you all the news and will write to Laura tonight. I do get homesick to see you all, but must be patient.

Love,

Mother

Glad Virgil enjoyed his wine.

23 June 1942

Dear Folks:

I just wrote you last nite but another one won’t hurt and besides I got your last letter this afternoon.

Was surprised to hear that Dick was home. Thought he would go back sometime but not so soon. Hope he finds a good job soon.

Next Monday (June 29) we go to Yakima for intensive training and firing. It is about one (hundred) forty miles from here and over the high mountains past Mt. Rainier. They tell me it’s pretty hot over there, but we have our suntans so it won’t be as bad as the woolens. We will be there for at least a month so you can send me some cookies there. Suppose we will start using our sleeping bags again. It’s going to seem tough leaving these luxurious barracks but also good to get into the open again. During these operations we will have aircraft observations and dummy bombs of flour.

Still nothing on furloughs. Two of our men are on them but they are only for emergencies and the Red Cross makes a thorough investigation.

Payday will really be something this time with the fifty bucks. I haven’t heard anything about the two paydays a month, but I think it would be a good idea. Along with the raise in base pay was a special arrangement for dependents. For every $22 the soldier sends home the government adds $28 to it. This is mandatory for married men and only available for men with dependents. A pretty good deal. The $12.50 for my bonds will be taken out this month. As the bonds accumulate they will be sent to you.

Now to reread your letter and answer the questions. Yes I still go to church, there is a big brick chapel on the post. I use cream to shave with the lather type but with the tube stipulation, soap is alright. I’m well supplied with toilet articles but can always use razor blades, shaving cream, or face soap. The number of division is the Fortieth, the emblem of which is a yellow sun on a dark blue background.

Boy does it rain around here—wish Nebraska could get some of it. Guess that’s why I don’t mind it so much.

Tomorrow night the Camel Caravan is coming and if it’s as good as the one I saw at Roberts it is pretty good.

Guess I told you about my excursion in Seattle last Saturday.

I plumb forgot about Dan’s birthday but I must remember him someway—and sixteen too. That reminds me of the days that I was sporting a pout because I was too young to pedal a bike.

Well l am going to listen to Fibber McGee and Bob Hope so until next time.

Lots of love,

10 June 1942

Dear Folks:

Before another minute of eternity ticks through the March of time I better get caught up with you or you will think I have deserted or something.

Got the papers and your letter last week. Suppose you have both subsided from the excitement of the past and have got back into the groove. Katie wrote me a letter telling me all about it so I have a pretty good picture of what you did in Denver. Will she stay in Denver and go to school some more?

Because of the alert and the resulting confinement I have been unable to get out of camp to buy anything for her and I really want to get her something. Give me some suggestions. I sent her five dollars-hope it will ease my guilty conscience somewhat.

Today I signed an allotment whereby $12.50 will be deducted from my pay each month. For every $18.75 that I save you will receive a bond with a maturity value of $25.00. It will be mailed to you as I requested. This will amount to a savings of $200.00 a year, the maturity of the bonds. Instead of naming you or either of you as beneficiary I named Mother as co-owner, although it makes no difference. As a co-owner you are entitled to cash the bond at any time after 60 days. There will be no red tape or my signature. I thought this a better plan than a beneficiary, so that if by chance you are in need of the money you will have it. As you probably know we will get our raise of $50.000 this month. Also I intend to send home $10.00 in cash.

Got a letter from Dick telling me of his visit from Mary. Yes I think they are pretty dizzy over each other. He didn’t tell me how he felt but said Mary got sentimental when she left.

Summer seems to need plenty of coaxing to come into full bloom around here. For the past week it has been raining and blowing and no signs of the clouds going away. Expect to go to Yakima to the firing range in a couple of weeks and they say it is much warmer there. But I hope I will be transferred from this outfit before that.

All the time we were on the alert we had to carry our tin hats and gas all the time—even and while working and when the order came thru that it was discontinued we all threw up our arms in joy. Even most of the civilians entering camp had them. A guard here shot a woman–died last night when she failed to halt her car. So always stop if you are requested.

My little watch beats like a young heart and never fails me—and the zipper bag is like another hand.

Hope next time I will be home—I mean next year. Perhaps furloughs are still a slumbering image. Perhaps when I am transferred with the cadre I will be sent East. My application for commission in the Adjutant General’s department was denied in view of the numerous applications. Many of the fellows are having visitors—being from Spanish Fork, Utah. I am in a Mormon reserve, Utah battalion.

Suppose you heard or read about the sunken freighter near Seattle, but I’m telling you that when this big shore gets it’s steam up there will be death and destruction for Germany and Japan the likes of which have never been seen. Cologne will be ordinary and commonplace. Our air force will be so great and our ground forces so well supplied that it will be utter desolation for anything in our way. This is my prediction. No more ‘too little and too late’. We are waiting until we have a cinch and will have it.

Well guess I’ve made my philosophies and told you what’s what so there is little else.

Oh, for a bunk without brown blankets and a dinner from marvelous Mother Moss and a banking out from dime-dealing Dad.

Love,

22 May 1942

Dear Folks:

I know I ought to write to you tonite but I’m having a time conjuring a mood for the occasion. Anyway with time so abundant I better.

As I told you in my last letter I’m in the hospital with a case of mild infantigo but since I’ve been here it has almost cleared completely and I’m looking forward to getting my release someday next week. I shall have been in a week next Monday. I have been getting three pills about twice a day and the sore spots smeared with suphathyacol. One guy across the isle is from Brooklyn, has his ears painted purple and has his hair shaved off. He sports a typical accent but his purple ears cause the most comment. His most common moniker is ear muffs. He reminds me of the homeliest guy in the ‘Dead End Kids’.

Suppose by the time you get this letter you will have seen Katie (doesn’t he mean Nancy?) graduate and the end of one more struggle partly whipped. I would accept a few months in the guardhouse to see her for awhile. Suppose she looks as vivid and sparkling as ever. What should I present her for graduation? A little late but I’ll get her something.

Your last letter mailed the fourteenth never reached me until today the 22^nd.

There is still nothing on furloughs—nothing at all, not even a clue. Our officers know nothing about it so all we can do is wait until the announcement is given. How will this affect your California trip?

Got a letter from Gramma today pretty brief but general. She said she had another spell of high blood pressure, also that Dick could now work in Consolidated. Dick is pretty esoteric in everything and it’s hard to tell what he thinks.

Well I’ll write tomorrow in release from this letter so until then.

Love,

11 May 1942

Dear Folks:

Guess I haven’t written for about a week so better get at it.

When I got in today your picture was here and is it swell. I’m so glad you sent it. I can’t adequately tell you how much it will mean. Then yesterday Katie’s(photo) came so with these and the one of Dick, I have quite a gallery of good-looking kin. Katie is getting prettier all the time but since the last time I saw her, in about August ’40, I believe, she seems to look a little more mature and womanly. When exactly will she graduate? I’d sure like to see her badly. I feel like a terrible heel for not sending you something beside the telegram on your big day last Sunday,but then I thought that if you were coming out to see Gram or up here I would send you fifteen dollars for the trip. Suppose your back is badly bowed by the season of the year but it would be swell if you both could get away from it all.

I’m still in the dark as to furloughs—as a matter of fact haven’t even got wind of a good latrine rumor. Other fellows seem to get these but no dice in this outfit I guess.

Several troop trains have pulled out last week and even tonite a long one is standing on the tracks waiting to be loaded. The latest info from seat 5 is that we won’t be here for longer than a month, but then this is all rumor. Today we were on the rifle range firing plenty of ammo. I didn’t do as good as I have before—a 154 out of two hundred. Last week I started to attend survey school. About three men from each battery were chosen, this is the brain part of field artillery. Hope I go long enough to get some benefit from it.

Last Saturday afternoon got a thirty-six hour pass so Johnnie, my pal, and I went into Tacoma but came home fairly early for lack of anything to do. This guy Johnnie is really a swell fellow—a tough existence ever since he was born, living under a drunken Dad and keeping his mother. Plenty handsome, modest, and sincere. His qualities remind me of Jim Sandison, but Johnnie is much more handsome. Black curly hair and big friendly eyes. Wish I had a picture of him.

The recent sea battle was certainly good news wasn’t it? Hope we treat ‘em plenty rugged from now on. A bad note has been coming up lately and that is gas or chemical warfare. The use of that will increase the horror of war many times. I’d think Germany would be afraid to use it because of his own extinction.

Last week one day I was on regimental fatigue and was handed a shovel and dumped off on a coal pile. Boy did I get dirty but it was a good workout. We hauled it to the hospitals and to the homes of the brass boys (officers).

It’s still been raining off and on for the last week but a couple of days were really nice.

Well I’ve got to write some more letters so better get around to them.

Your picture will be my most valued possession.

Love,

The picture is a 155 mm howitzer of our battery.

16 April 1942

Dear Folks:

Time to write a few lines while everything is quiet after supper chow. Just got a letter from you that was put in the wrong slot in the mailbox.

Well, well-founded rumors are astir that we are moving out perhaps tonite or tomorrow. In fact all we have been doing today is loading and greasing trucks and getting our personal equipment in shape to pack quietly when the order comes. Where we are going is of course not known but the latrine rumor is to Los Angeles. Whether this is in preparation for something bigger I can only guess. The latest is that we may move after midnite tonite.

Tonite also we are having alittle battery party with talent supplied from our ranks to refreshments from the battery fund. Suppose we will have a lot of fun singing and horsing around.

I wrote Dick a few days ago asking him to come up so we could both talk to you on the phone. However if we move I’ll make the call, if possible, myself. I haven’t been down for three weeks now and would like to see them before we leave but perhaps this won’t be possible. The 19^th will also be the monthly anniversary of my army induction—seven months.

I am sending my mail free, but because I had a little supply of stamps thought I just as well use them for airmail.

Don’t know exactly when our $42.00 will be effective but will probably effect our pay on the first of June. I will send you $20.00 to use in coming out. Wish you could come on the train. I think Dick and I can arrange it that way. If we each donate $20.00 or so you could afford it then. It would be better for you than riding in a car.

Yes, even get to sleep late if we walk at nite—the usual tour is 4 hours on and 8 hours off. We haven’t heard anything about furloughs for our bunch and are not expecting any—at least I’m not. We took all of our shots in the arm and after about three they were nothing.

Right now I’m reading ‘Inside Europe’ and ‘The Green Lights’, but if we move won’t get to finish them and incidentally, I’m wondering how I can return them to the library.

Last Sunday I was on KP and while looking around the kitchen saw a carton of beef from Cook’s Packing Company in Scottsbluff. Kind of surprising.

I gave up my job as assistant battery clerk for lack of anything to do in there so now I’m in the communications detail. We string wire from gun phones to the switchboard to the observation point (OP). From the OP the CO (commanding officer) relays his firing data to the guns which go thru the switchboard hidden in the brush somewhere. It’s a pretty good assignment and more interesting than doing the cannoneer’s hop. Pulling two or three miles of wire by hand is a workhout. One of our trucks has a small gasoline engine for this purpose mounted on the back.

Well guess this is all this time. Will write you all I can about what’s going on.

Love,

10 April 1942

Dear Folks:

Suppose you will be surprised by the series of lots of letters but I’ve had so much time to do nothing that letter writing becomes a good recourse when the time drags.

Finished my tour of guard duty at Carlsbad so I’m back in Escondido. Two letters were waiting for me—one from each of you. When you send me a box again will you include a heavy bath towel and perhaps a couple of hankies? I know you will send a box as you always have so I just as well make my suggestions. Some other things—hair shampoo, whole peanuts, that’s just about everything. I’m as proud as pie over the sweater and hate to have to wear it underneath. I can wear it on the outside only on unofficial formations.

Guess I’ll dig up your letters and take care of your questions. First—the actual temperature doesn’t seem to get so low but somehow the nights are very chilly and invariably we wear jackets and overcoats on nite guard duty, and then we still get cold. Yes, I sleep in my sleeping bag every nite. I would freeze without it—or I feel like I would. Usually in the evening we have a fire going in our little cone shaped stove so it’s comfortable in the tents. In fact your Easter card and the letter about the suit—take your pick—and I also hope Dad is making use of them. When the day comes that I will be handed that precious little document inscribed with the word ‘discharged’ I am going to wear different clothes everyday just to see what it feels like. Now that I got to thinking about it, it will seem odd very different to get back into civilian life. I never realized the freedom and privileges that I enjoyed. Suppose you will for awhile have to wake me with a bugle, blow a horn for chow and give me an inspection on Saturdays. How good it will seem to be relieved of the regulations of uniformity that we all follow.

Last Wednesday got a letter from Gram inviting me to a Nebraska picnic at Long Beach. Dick, Loyd, and June are going but I’m tied up, of course, so can’t attend! It does no good to make plans for anything—take your liberty as it comes and make arrangements later. Last nite a group of women with the Women’s Club in Vista entertained about forty of the soldiers to a dance and games in their clubhouse. I became entangled in a good bridge game with three of the town’s solid (+ solid) women who rank with the sharks. Of course I’m not acquainted with all the intracies and opportunities of the game but we got along pretty good and they were very gracious about my ineptness. They hung on all my words and finally we both recalled someone we knew in Scottsbluff so we became very chummy.

Another Sabbath tomorrow which means pancakes (a rare treat) for breakfast and church later. Besides pancakes-I also saw a boiler full of chickens so suppose we will have chicken for dinner with some good mashed potatoes.

I don’t know any Hoover in my battery although he may be in another battery of the battalion.

I see Dad you mentioned something of going to Alliance to see the army pass threw. Well I suppose a uniform would cause a mild sensation back there but out here they are so commonplace they are never noticed. Everyday convoys of trucks for miles in length pass through the town and P-38 interceptors, bombers and fighters fly over incessantly. Searchlights cut swatches of whiteness in the nights, and boys sit in rooms of sandbags keeping accurate logs of every happening along the coast. Troop trains sweep along, blackened out like a deadly animal and the yellow light of an alert flashes on once in a while. Rumors fly like confetti in a March breeze and the next most important topic is dope about furloughs and passes and (of course) women. I wish you could visit our battery and see what we do. Each move a vital cog in a big war wheel.

Well this covers about all from this news front and perhaps a little to much space so until the next letter.

Love,