Free Press hometown news Archives

11 September 1945

Dear Folks:

I hope every letter I write will be the last one, but I’m still here and as long as I am I guess I just as well write you. However we are going from day to day now expecting orders at any time. I made a 200 yen bet that we would be out of here by Saturday the 15^th, and I think it’s still a good bet. [200 yen is only $12.50]. The days are dragging by and every one seems long. I don’t have anything to do now – my replacement came two weeks ago and he has taken over. About all I do now is loaf and in the afternoon sleep. I feel lost and kind of nervous – you know what I mean. For instance this morning in order to kill time I went over to the barber shop for a haircut, and hung around the motor section until dinner. I’m letting my hair grow now – trying to make it look like a civilian. It’s been pretty short up to now.

Had a letter from Dad together with a Free Press today. I’m glad you got to see Dan Gettman. I didn’t know he had any trouble with his hip, but there is a lot of guys [who] have ear trouble from the guns. He used to talk a leg off me about Scottsbluff.

The past two days it has been raining in cloud bursts and typhoon proportions. It may hold us up a few days in leaving. I’ve never seen it rain so hard. It will come up in a few minutes and drive down so hard you can’t see more than fifty yards. Boy how it rains. The sky may look good one minute and the next it will be pouring down.

Well I can’t think of anything more to write about. Don’t write me because it’s just a job for the mail orderly to forward it.

Love,

11 August 1945

Dear Folks:

It’s been sometime since I’ve written so I better settle down and get some written. Events have been transpiring fast and my morale has been improving. Last night I was playing cards when somebody ran down the streets yelling ‘turn on the radio’. We did and heard it say the Japs were ready to surrender. Although our battery didn’t take it hook, line, and sinker apparently the rest of the island did, because searchlights went on, and machine guns and anti-aircraft began firing, and the sky was colored with red tracers. It looked like a Hollywood premier. Although we know this may not be the real thing, something is definitely going on and perhaps this is the first step. The thought of the war being over is too much to grasp at once, and I know just how you would both feel if it is time.

Today I heard on the radio that a Jap emissary was coming here on a warship to discuss negotiations. I understand they want to leave the emperor in his position. Dad certainly called his shots good – Russia coming in and now talk of peace. At least it looks like you are quite the prophet.

Tomorrow is Sunday and I see on the bulletin board that an Episcopal communion [service] is being held at eight-thirty. I better go.

Last night after the excitement and after I had got into bed, the CO had a few of us in for some drinks. The first whisky I had tasted in ages, and it didn’t set too good with any of us. I didn’t feel so hot this morning and had to stand [during] inspection at nine-thirty. But we had the rest of the day off and tonight I feel pretty good. A pretty good show on tonight so I better go down.

A few days ago we worked an afternoon and put a floor in our tent. The first time I’ve had a floor in a long time. Well it makes pretty good quarters. We are having it pretty easy now, no wonder in the afternoons, but it’s almost too hot to work anyway. Played a little softball a few days ago and got a sore, swelled finger out of it. About as big as a weeny.

Men have been leaving every day on readjustment but they are still quite a way from my name. Each morning it looks like a railroad depot with guys shaking hands and saying goodbye. After living together for several years and going through operations together, you sometimes feel a little sentimental about seeing some of them go.

The magazines arrived – two big envelopes and a Free Press today. Also the mimeograph letters and styles came. Unfortunately the paper deal fell through, but we can still use them for other work.

Well this will have to do for another time. Sorry I didn’t write sooner but I’ll try to get on the ball a little more.

Love,

27 July 1945

Dear Folks:

Not much on tap for tonight so maybe I better write a few letters. Just finished a letter to Dick and I’m going to see if he can make arrangements to visit me for a few days. We are in a permanent area and have a pretty decent setup now.

Had a late issue Free Press today – very recent and a letter from Phil and Nancy yesterday. Phil is turning out different than I thought he would. Wished I would get back in time to see him.

Very little to write about. There is nothing new on getting back. It is just a matter of waiting.

Went to teeth inspection today and it looks like I may have some work done [soon]. The doc pulled a tooth last October and I think it’s getting bad under the filling.

Well I’m out of news so I guess I’m bound to close.

Love,

23 July 1945

Dear Folks:

This won’t be much of a letter but in order to kill a little time before [the] show probably I ought to write you. It’s been hot as hell today and the sweat has been rolling off me, but I feel better after a shower.

We had our first beer ration – four bottles. It’s warm but it’s still good.

Received two Free Presses today – one of them dated this month. It seems like every issue I read about this guy Seich being on a furlough. Has he even been overseas? Another is Clifford Teiser – what a racket he must have. But when I get home I expect it to be permanent.

I don’t [know] when I’ll see Dick again. We are a long ways apart now, but I hope I can have him down for a few days soon. Don’t know where Duane is.

Dug out my law books today and glanced over them a little. I have quite a little time to study now.

In Gladys Davis’ letter yesterday she said she was in Minatare Armistice Day and tried to get hold of you but could find no one [home]. I wished you could have seen her.

Well I told you this letter wouldn’t be much and so it is. But at least it’s some word [from me].

Love,

8 July 1945

Dear Folks:

Wanted to write you a long letter last night but some fireworks started and the lights were turned off so I didn’t get all said I wanted to.

The mailman brought me three letters today, one from each of you and from Pat Moss. In Mom’s letter was the pictures and the clipping about Jim’s marriage. Nancy looks very sweet and innocent in her formal. I’m sure I’ll be as proud of her as you are. I’m looking forward to having her in [University of] Nebraska next fall. That’s quite a bridge behind Mom. I guess it’s more than a bridge. Dad doesn’t look like he’s getting older as far as I can see. Gramp looks very poor and Phil so husky and filled out. I’m pretty thin right now and everyone tells me about it, but I feel alright, but get a little nervous doing paperwork all the time. Maybe you can fatten me up a little. I think I weigh about 130 [pounds] – [a] little more than I did when I came in, but I think I’ll look better when I get off this island.

I don’t know what has happened to the magazines and packages you sent. Only one Free Press has arrived. The Reader’s Digest makes it pretty regular though.

You guys think I might not want to do much talking when I get back, but I think I will, or at least I think I will. But a lot of people wouldn’t really know what you were talking about and I’d get tired of them quick.

Haven’t received the letter from Carol. I hope I can get back to see them get married.

Boy the house must be a very nice place with all the redecorating you are doing. I bet you are doing it because you’re expecting somebody home.

Dick is alright and is still on the island and I should see him soon.

Love,

2 July 1945

Dear Folks:

I haven’t been writing all I should lately but it seems like when I have the time I don’t feel like it and vice versa. The weather has been steaming hot and it kind of knocks the sap out of you. Two days from the 4^th [of July] and I suppose it will be hot as hell. The nights are cool and with a slight breeze from the ocean. The stars come out bright and close every night. The days are long and it’s about eight o’clock before it gets dark.

Two days ago Dick called me up about eleven thirty in the morning and even though I was busy, managed to get off for the afternoon. All we could do was find a shady place and talk but that was enough. We talked about everything as usual and swapped mail. He is looking good but was covered with dust from the long ride he made to get to me. Soon we will be [in] a permanent area and then I [am] going to try and have him spend a few days with me. He is not having it too tough and before long he will be taking it easy. I think we have much to be thankful for as we both came through alright. I feel almost certain this will be my last combat and that is a great load off my mind. Sometimes you think maybe something will happen the next time. The artillery fire we got a couple of times was making me pretty nervous, but it’s kind of humorous to think about afterwards – some of the incidents that took place. Dick and I both remarked about how our knees got to shaking a couple of times and even if you grab hold of them they still shake, even after the danger has past.

Your mail reaches me in as good a time as mine gets to you so you see how good the service is. And almost everyday I get one from someone. I received one of the first class Free Presses, and the most recent I’ve yet gotten but the packages and other magazines must still be on the way.

I have been allowed to tell you I’m in the XXIV Corps and I will wear that patch when I get back. It is a white circle with two blue hearts. My stateside uniform will look colored up with the Asiatic Pacific Ribbon with two stars, the Philippine Liberation with one star, good conduct, and American defense ribbons. I will have six overseas bars and one three-year bar. I will look like a veteran. But I hope it won’t be too long til its Mr. Moss and current scuttlebutt says it will. I think that regardless of what others say. My old eyes got misty as hell last night when I went over to the radio and heard some music that I used to play in the symphony at [the University of] Nebraska. What I want to do when I get back is just be a complete independent loafer for a few weeks and sleep every morning til ten, and then get up and eat strawberries and cream on breakfast food and tear into some fresh eggs and milk, then stick around the house and look at Dad and you and get re-acquainted. Another thing I’m looking forward to is new clothes, it will seem funny not to have everything the same. I will get $300 at discharge and I suppose it will take about all of that for a new outfit.

You probably haven’t been receiving any bonds. The last one should have been for February but before long you will get four at one time. They are only sent when we get paid and I haven’t been paid for four months. About the only good aspect of this place is that you can save money. To control inflation we can draw only ten bucks a month and the rest must go home. So I will probably have something over a hundred to send. I hope I will apply my savings in a wise manner when I get back and I would appreciate postwar ideas from both of you. Dick and I talked over my orchard deal and he is for it so I told him I would investigate when I got back and find out first hand its possibilities. I would like to go in [to] the deal where Dick could farm as he wants to and me be the partner but an inactive one. I think the Army has made me want something solid and be my own boss. I have had enough orders directed at me. Some officers think they are right solely because of their rank regardless of what an enlisted man may think and sometimes I feel like it’s a slave and master set up. But that’s not true of all of them but a few can make it bad.

Haven’t seen Duane for a long time. I wonder what he thinks now. He was pretty cocksure and had certain ideas of how to win this war. He thinks he’s going to be home soon but how in the world he figures it, I don’t know. I suppose Marge is getting fatter every day. Wished I had a heart interest myself. These married guys really say it’s great.

I hope I can read my law books again soon when we get settled down. I’ve hauled them around in a box since Oahu. On Leyte I gave one to a Philippine school and they were really glad to get it. Also I expect to get some books on advertising. I signed up for an Army Institute course about three weeks ago. If I get out this year I think I’ll get back in school, sometimes I think by golly I’ll get an education and a good one if I don’t have anything else. I may be a little older but there will probably be plenty like me. But I don’t know just how I will feel when I get ….

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wonder when his discharge was coming.

I started to quit once before and I better do it this time. So adios for another time.

Love,

11 June 1945

Dear folks:

My writing has been delayed considerably because of a succession of events that made writing difficult. And I know you’ve been anxious too.

I’ve been bouncing over the roads today and I feel pretty tired and let down tonight but not so I can’t write you. On my travels today I saw Shuri and Noha including Shuri castle or what is left of it. You know the struggle it has been to take those places. I couldn’t describe to you the desolation and wreckage. Hardly a structure stands and everywhere there is rubble of stone and wood. Only a long two-story brick building remains to what was a city of 65,000-Noha. Bulldozers nudge around through the debris clearing roads and cleaning up, and preparing areas to live in. Shuri is equally wrecked. Shuri sits in a valley surrounded by hills and ridges that shelter catacombs of interlocking caves and emplacements. Every ridge is specked with these holes. From a high view the fields are potted with circular shell holes and occasionally a huge crater of a bomb or a large naval shell. And I saw our burned out tanks, many of them, stopped in a low place where the Japs probably used their suicide tactics of planting satchel charges on the tanks and blowing themselves up. Shuri castle has a few remaining pillars still standing. They immediately remind one of the Greek ruins. Now the Japs have been pushed into a very small pocket and there they will probably repeat their banzai charge and the remainder dive into the sea as they did on Saipan. It seems that the Japanese are entirely alien to what we believe about life and the standards we live by.

Yesterday I had a look at four freshly killed Japs who were killed in their cave. They had thrown a grenade at one of our men from their hole about half way up a steep bank. After we sneaked up and threw grenades and plenty of ammunition at them, someone looked in and they had died for the emperor. One had apparently held a grenade to his chest at the last minute for his chest was blown open and his face gone. In peacetime our government will spend thousands of dollars to find the murderer of one man but here a life seems worth little.

After coming in tonight I found I had four letters, two each from Mom and Dad—one from June. They certainly were appreciated and I’ve already gone over them many times. And I’ll read them many more. Now I’m the one who isn’t keeping up, but pretty soon I should be on a regular schedule. Yesterday had two Free Press dated back in February. I’m looking forward to the recent ones you kept.

Haven’t seen Dick or Duane yet but I think it won’t be too long. Probably the island will be secured soon and then it will be easier to get around. I would like to have Dick come over and stay a few days with me if it is possible.

I can’t say much about the demobilization deal except what I read and hear. I have more than 85 points and weighing everything I feel more optimistic than pessimistic about getting home in the next few months—although I have nothing to go on. Maybe it’s like a women’s 6^th sense. But if something doesn’t materialize I will lose faith in everything. I can hardly imagine being home again. A rumor today said those over 85 will see no more combat, but as I say it’s just a rumor.

Bob Meyers and Guyla Steele now—golly I can hardly picture it and Guyla a Russian. I don’t like that. Glad to hear Jim S. is getting married but sorry to hear his folks are leaving. I thought perhaps Phil and Carol would get married on his leave and was slightly surprised to hear they didn’t. Phil sent me a picture of her. She looks pretty sweet.

On the fruit orchard deal it would be mostly oranges and grapefruit and for the first couple of years a small truck garden to alleviate expenses. Our area is in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas. I thought I would put some money into it and let Dick run the place and build up a first class orchard and do everything to produce a good orchard. To make expenses until the crop begins to produce Dick would raise a small truck garden and with the equipment I would buy, he could make money helping others spray etc. And I would come back and get the best job I could and make up some of the first year’s expenses. If I get home soon I’m going to look into it but of course I’m not going all out on it until I can find out a little more. I am anxious to talk to Dick about. I think he will like it. I know my buddy would not let me down, he’s square and honest as the day is long. He is a great guy. He is anxious to help me and he wants later to expand and then go together on a business of hardware there. We had great fun going all over it one night in a foxhole. And I know Dad would fall over backward to advise me. I’m very anxious to see the picture of the store. Nancy and Mom and Phil all write about what an institution it is getting to be.

I’m glad you had a nice birthday and I wished I could have sent you something. (The Noha department store is very short on items). I know Dick and I and Phil will all be home soon to give you an inexpensive but most wanted gift—a big kiss.

And Mom I wouldn’t want you to go out west. Stay where you are and keep home what it has always been and always will be. Many people may soon regret having done that.

And I too want Nancy to go to school and for my choice, Nebraska University. And to have every advantage of graduating. I wanted to graduate in the worst kind of way and feel very badly sometimes because I didn’t. If I were still in school and took law, I would almost be out. I hate to think I will never get a degree. My days there were filled with association and acquaintance with learning, that are long remembered. I surely want Nancy to go and have all she needs to enjoy it.

I’m sure you finally got straightened out on my outfit and I have never been able to tell you. I’m feeling fine but I think I must feel like Dad sometimes—ready to blowup and sometimes I feel nervous as hell. I just hope I can soon see you. Minor differences will seem like nothing after this.

Well it’s beginning to get a little late (9 o’clock) and today may be another heavy one. But I’ll try to write often. You can now feel much reassured for it is almost over on this island and then we can have it easier.

Better stop sometimes although I feel like writing on and on if I could dig up the items.

Love,

23 May 1945

Dear Folks:

Fulfilling my prediction of last night, the weather has turned rainy and so today the area is a big mud pond. Don’t do much walking around now and while I’m sitting here just as well utilize the time.

Had a letter from my old landlady in Lincoln today – Mrs. Davis. She lives at the same place and really misses the old gang. And how I miss them too. I hope she is making it alright. Don’t know whether I told you or not but some time ago I had a letter from my roomy Kenny Miller. Remember him? He is the law student who graduated in ’41. He is in England and wanted to whip up a correspondence with me. He was a great guy.

I’m certainly in love with the pen you sent me – it’s such a beauty and I’m always using it.

Received a January Free Press yesterday, and though it was old, it still offered some good, homey news. If my envelopes look beat up and opened it’s because of the weather. The flaps always stick so I have to lick each one and soak it off, and that takes most of the glue off.

Well believe I’ll plow through the mud and go down to listen to Bob Hope on the radio. But I have to do a few things before then so I better sign off.

I (am) feeling very good and sleeping dry and good despite the wet weather. After the campaign will probably have movies and a little beer ration which will improve our lot. If I can just stay on this island until my time comes to go back I’ll be satisfied. It isn’t a bad place at all.

Love,

6 May 1945

Dear folks:

About an hour before church so perhaps I can write you a few short lines before then. Communion is being held today and as a special treat we will have an organ. A small portable one but it sounds good.

Mail is continuing to come in good—both 1^st and 4^th. Yesterday got a package from June and today two Free Presses and March Reader’s Digest, so I’m expecting the February package any time.

I thought I better write too today because you have probably been reading about the Jap counterattack in which they landed behind our lines and we shot down 168 Jap planes. Well I was in my foxhole all night listening to artillery shells land but they did no damage, and aside from the tenseness all I got from it was more battle experience, of which I’ve had all I want. And Dick is okay. You can rest at ease about him.

My partner is trying to get me to buy in on a fruit orchard in Texas. His dad wants to sell it to him at $200 an acre for twenty acres or $4,000, and us split the cost. He figures in five years under normal years it will bring in an estimated $10,000 yearly and in 15 years will represent a value of 15 to 20 thousand. His dad has his own farms in Kansas and wants to sell the orchard. That’s a pretty cheap price. Right now his dad gets about $1,500 yearly but it is not all planted. Well it’s an idea and it sounds like a good investment but lots to think about.

Well better wash up a little for church so better get ready.

Love,

21 April 1945

Dear Folks:

So much mail has been coming in from you folks that I would feel like a heel if I did not write you every opportunity I have. This has been a fairly quiet day and it looks like tonight before dark I might have time to get a few letters off. Some of the boys killed a hog so for supper tonite we enjoyed pork – good treat it was.

I was sorry to hear that you did not get the sandals but in talking to some of the fellows they said that perhaps the hemp used in them might contain insects or germs. I couldn’t tell from your letters whether you received the bolo knife complete with the case or what. Dad said only the handle came and Mom sounded like the whole thing arrived. I don’t wonder that you don’t understand how it is used but a Filipino almost builds his life around it. He can build a house, split coconuts, get food with it and fight with it. Even the smallest boys carry one. I know you would have liked the sandals.

In your letters were many clippings which I’m always anxious to get. I think that in as much as the Free Press is many months in coming it would be a good idea to put a copy in an envelope and mail it first class – in that way it is somewhat recent.

In connection with requests here is another. I’m publishing a battalion newspaper and it is to be run off on the mimeograph. Now the request is this. In order to reproduce headlines and column headings onto a stencil we need print letters which are usually cut out of cellulose so they can be traced onto the stencil. There may be other means that I don’t know about but that is one. So when you are in ‘Bluffs perhaps, LeRoys or Rominger’s or a stationary and supply house, could fix me up.

No, I haven’t received the packages you mailed last February but perhaps these will come through.

On today’s mail I had two letters each from Mom and Dad, and I wished I was allowed to tell you how fast they came. I would certainly like to get home now when spring is beginning to green the land and to see the house.

Yes, I was certainly shocked at the President’s death and undoubtedly he will rank as one of the world’s greatest men. And Ernie Pyle too. I understand he was here on Okinawa for awhile before going to Ice Island. He was buried in the army cemetery there along with GI’s he wrote so skillfully about.

I think your letters are very good Dad, contrary to your occasional reference to their inferiority, and I know it isn’t always easy to write. I gather that your business is doing good and I’m sure it is. I knew you could do good when you got the opportunity. So much has happened since I left – more probably than you realize.

I haven’t seen Dick in the last 2 days. He is very busy to say the least. He is certainly a good kid and he is all around okeh. And the Army is not coercing him. I will let you know when I see him again.

Had a letter from Nancy today and from the more mature tone of her letters, I can hardly reconcile her to the youngster she was when I left. It is beginning to look like the Mosses are getting romantically inclined. I think Dick is more than interested in Helen Emick and I would certainly like him to promote that gal. I’m aching for the quietness, contentedness, and satisfaction that I hope I can soon have in my own home. I’m developing into a family man and I hope before too many years, a part of that ambition will materialize.

Love,