Furloughs Archives - Page 4 of 6

31 December 1943

Dear Dad:

I guess if I owe anybody a letter it is certainly you. You write often but I never answer them as I should. It’s pretty quiet tonight and everything else is done. We’re sitting around listening to the radio this New Year’s Eve, not doing much. We won’t do any celebrating with blackout and taps at ten. I was just looking at the pictures Kate sent me and then thought how swell it would be to see Steve and all of us enjoying him together. It seems I’ve been gone so long I have to pinch myself to make sure things like that are still back there. Some of the things I look back on seem like a dream the morning after. You can’t imagine how much I think about the first few minutes when we will see each other again. Bet I’d have to have a towel for my eyes. Maybe I better get around to the brighter and newsier side of things. This afternoon went into town to do a little shopping. Tried to find some picture frames but no luck. I must have looked like mom nosing around the Kress Store.

Some of the fellows have gone to the New Year’s Dance but the competition is to stiff for me. Probably won’t be many white ones there anyway. Seeing so many ‘tanned’ ones will make all of them at home, good-looking.

Well dad, it seems there should be much to write about and make a man-to-man talk out of this but it seems the words aren’t here although the thoughts would fill many pages. I hope 1944 brings us very near the end. I don’t feel much anxiety about my own welfare although I admit I sometimes worry about Dick. Certainly I don’t foresee a furlough.

The pictures were taken in the office. Maybe they will give you some idea of the place I work in. It’s usually a pretty busy place and maybe it doesn’t look too tidy.

I’m going to call this ‘pau’ for this time. I really enjoy your letters and you put in the kind of news I like to hear. Hope I do a better job of writing (next year).

Love,

3 August 1943

Dearest Folks:

I’m slipping on my writing again so better make this typewriter burn for a while. Just received Nancy’s letter a few moments ago and I especially noted that Glen and Bill E are home on furlough. What we wouldn’t do during a reunion leaves little to the imagination. A fellow in our billet just returned from furlough to the states and during the fiesta we had last night, asked him a bushel of questions about everything. He also brought back with him some spirits by smuggling them in a barracks bag and so that added a touch to the party. We must have acted like a bunch of kids the way we wanted to know a little about everything he saw and did while he was away. He is from a small town in Oklahoma. Of course I can’t describe just how I would act if I ever walked down the main street again, but I, like everyone else I suppose, try to imagine what it would be like before I go to sleep.

I just received the pictures from Dick and I suppose that probably you have yours by now. I think they are pretty good although I don’t think we took enough. I was a little surprised that some of them were passed, but I’m glad they didn’t object because you can get a good idea of the place where we spent most of our time.

I had intended to go to the show tonight and all in all take it easy, but I ran into a volleyball game and finally ended up doing exactly the opposite. My nights are all free and duty hours reasonable and with my type of work I escape some of the rigors of the outdoors, although we take part in some lengthy hikes occasionally. I haven’t lost any of my love for the island, and continue to hope that I will (be) lucky enough to remain here until I step on the boat for ‘Frisco.

I continually mention this subject but I hope you won’t object and that is the books. I hope that nothing arose that prevented your sending the volumes although it might have been necessary to send them in two separate packages depending on the weight.

Katie writes occasionally and everything sounds well with her, and I’m beginning to adopt a parental complex from my coming title of uncle.

I wish I was free to tell you how fast your mail arrives, for I know you would (be) surprised. But it does make good time in some cases although a few occasionally are delayed. I have no less than six letters to write tonight, but I’ve lost the initiative to write except to those that are close. I think I’ll throw in the towel on this issue and hope I can muster a few more words for the next one. I was amused at Phil’s newly acquired car and I can easily imagine how he must be beaming and grinning over his new treasure. And I suppose Nancy has her share of the fun from it. Well this is la finis, but before I go just keep the home and town like it was when I left.

Love,

21 July 1943

Dear Folks:

Just finished reading two issues of the Free Press which always requires my undevoted attention whenever they come. I think the new column about servicemen is a pretty good thing – I wonder where the fellows are sometimes. I see my old sidekick Bill Emick is at Stinsom Field. It seems that in every issue and in every letter I get from you someone else is getting a furlough, or coming home for some reason. How I would like to be one of them and walk down the main street again and see the new Moss manor. I always must remind myself that it can’t last forever.

Last Saturday night had the privilege of a twenty-four hour pass. The Chaplain secured a hotel room for me which was a nice one and well equipped. I took advantage of the situation and slept very late in the morning that reminded me of civilian days and weekends. I’m afraid that from my letters you might adopt the impression that I am having more or less of a vacation over here and having an easy life in the sunshine and the hospitality of the tropics, but this is hardly the case. What I do on pass day is about the only subject I can think of to do any writing about and you might think that this is my main diversion. But there is a lot more to it than that – I’ll have to tell you about that when I get back.

Yes, Dick and I will have many pleasant memories when we get home and what we did on our meeting will be one of them. No, I still haven’t heard from Dick. As for the money getting here too late—everything turned out fine. I made (a) loan and we had more money than we could spend.

I would like to inquire about the book again and I hope that you have met with success in finding it. Reading is the best way I know to spend the idle hours and I’m becoming very interested in this subject.

I’m not very newsy or verbose and not much in the mood to attempt to write a good letter, so hold on till the next one. I hope I may have some good news soon.

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,

15 August 1942

Dear Folks:

I know you must be anxious to hear from me and now is a good time to get it done. I just had some ice cream from the canteen then shaved and showered so I feel pretty good now ready to be quiet for the rest of the evening.

Thursday we left Fort Lewis and the next day arrived at an embarkation camp near Pittsburgh and about 30 miles from Frisco. It is a brand new place and the barracks swell, but they are painted dark OD and don’t look very impressing. Incidentally our CO said this morning that during our trip someone had burned 300 feet of thistle in the mountains and we were re-routed—shows the need for secrecy I guess. Since we have been here we have had two physical inspections on eyes, teeth, heart, etc. By the way the dentist said my teeth were sound but that the army could make no allowance for the broken tooth. This all seems to indicate that we will be moving soon—understand that two of our batteries are leaving immediately then we will follow. Again I’ve rejected hope for furloughs, tough as it is.

The kitchen here serves cafeteria style and requires 60 kp’s. The canteen is practically in our backyard–that comes in handy in off hours. This morning we had to sign slips to the effect that we understood that any AWOL, even for a short time, constituted desertion and we are liable for execution or loss of citizenship and a dishonorable discharge. Guess it has to be that way though.

Passes are tough to get and I have little hope of getting out to see Frisco.

Everything seems pretty much the same at least as much as possible. I can’t seem to find much to write about even though you probably think I should fill a book. Suppose the sleeping bag has reached you by now.

All I can think of is a little time off with all of you and loafing around home and when I think of all the time in the past when we could have been granted them, it sort of irks me that before we left Lewis all organizations not subject to overseas duty were authorized to grant 15 day furloughs.

Probably I’ll write again tomorrow being Sunday with little to do, so maybe I can write a little more.

Love,

PS I have been promoted to Private First Class so put PFC in front of my name. Also don’t forget to use APO 1288.

11 August 1942

Dear Folks:

I should be working I suppose but I’m going to try to write you a letter before they catch up with me.

Perhaps the wind is beginning to blow a different direction because there are again some rumors of furloughs—as a matter of fact the CO told us that he thought perhaps we might be given a little time off after we got to ‘Frisco—but for how long I don’t know. We’re still in Fort Lewis but leaving for Frisco tomorrow on the train. On your next letters address them to San Francisco at the address I gave you.

Got your two swell letters yesterday and was gong to write last night but felt so tired out that gave it up. I’m all over the flu but it made me feel pretty low and weak for awhile. Took it easy over the weekend but Sunday night that girl I’ve told you about came around with her car so we went to the beach and later to Tacoma. She made me a batch of cookies but they are practically all gone now.

I’m going to buy a dozen rabbits feet, throw horseshoes over my shoulder and engage in any other good luck omen that I can think in hopes that it will promote some kind of a furlough. I was thinking of it last night when I went to bed and thought how swell it would be. Logically it would seem like it would be better for the fellows if they could be granted a little vacation but maybe the military strategists know what they are doing. If I could get a little travel time along with it the trip wouldn’t be such a rush.

I’ve got a lot of new equipment and have been getting rid of any telltale markings on my old stuff, have my bags marked and about ready to take off.

I better write a letter to Grandma and let her know my new address or I’ll have mail chasing me all over the country. I was thinking it would be a good idea for you to send the Star Herald to me but I don’t know what arrangements or what newspapers would be allowed overseas; perhaps I can find out.

It seemed I had so much on my mind last night to write about but now it seems to have gone like the darkness. Suppose Katie is home now and you are enjoying her.

This didn’t turn out to be much of a column but at least it’s a token of a letter. Suppose my friend the censor will be reading my letters pretty soon and won’t let any out for awhile but maybe that won’t be for sometime yet.

Will see you in the next letter and all of you keep your mugs in the breeze and your shoulders back.

Love,

29 July 1942

Dear Folks:

Well back in Lewis again and it seems good-very good, but we won’t be here for long.

Among two important things to come in this letter the first is that those elusive things called furloughs are definitely out. So make no plans on that count or any count. Next is I’m going overseas soon perhaps next week. I believe it will be a long trip for our CO said we were drawing canned rations for one hundred days. Incidental to this has been inspections and cleaning of material and loading trucks. All day has been a fast one, checking all equipment and turning some in and getting some. Most of our shots will be taken over, and I must have my eyes examined so I can secure extra pairs. I will send my sleeping bag home. We even had to go thru our billfolds and obliterate any identifying printing. Suppose it will be like this till we leave.

I can imagine how you will feel when you first know but we’ll just make the most of it and hope it’s over soon. Most of us feel low not getting any leave at all and I’m foremost among them. I’ll send you letters steadily and let you have my new address as soon as possible. I’ll be expecting a stream of letters now and some pictures once in a while—they will be everything. Your letters will not bear any foreign address but will go to an APO in San Francisco. Suppose I won’t be able to say much but enough to let you know about me.

If you want me to call, you can wire me for the date.

Now you keep your mugs in the breeze Mom and Dad and I’ll bring back some sweet trophies. Nothing will happen to me. I’ll write very soon again.

Always,

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,

16 July 1942

Dear Folks:

I don’t think I’m neglecting you in my writing, do you? I don’t know why I feel so prolific, maybe it’s because I have so much time in the office.

Opened the package you sent me in the presence of my office henchmen, and in the middle of the afternoon a piece of angel food cake was like the end of a thirty day fast. The officers had a piece too and they all attest to its goodness. Haven’t sampled the cookies yet but I know they will be as good as the cake. The cake was real fresh and soft but the frosting was beginning to fall off. The cookies will be a dessert for dinner because all we have then is sandwiches.

Suppose you have the pictures of our Sahara Paradise by now. Well here’s another one. It was taken on a Sunday afternoon at Ft. Lewis. I don’t know the girls at all. We just asked them to pose with us and they consented.

One more week after this, then back to Lewis to furloughs I hope. I’m getting pretty used to it here being so close to town and all but despise the rain. I still like the barracks better. My confinement is over today and I thought it was. Come to find out it was just for over the last weekend. Last nite it actually rained a little and this morning the ground smells fresh and alive.

Haven’t been doing much reading lately however did just finish “The Good Earth”. It was laying around so thought I might as well read it. There isn’t a library here and no pocketbooks to buy so I’m stalled temporarily.

I wish I could foresee what the army proposes to do with us after we get back to Lewis. Some say back to California and the cadre to Oregon but these are pure hearsay. I heard most of the experts predict a siege of three or more years (how wrong they-the experts-were when Germany first came out of her corner). Only yesterday I was reading in a ’39 Digest the opinions of a Yale economist and European expert who flatly declared that the one thing Hitler could not do was wage war. Most of them are “looking for a better ‘ole’ now”, and I think they are too pessimistic in forecasting another three years. I’m going to be home for good in January 1944.

I still droll like a blue bloodhound when I hear an airplane. I’ve asked the CO about the Air Corps again but there seems to be no way out. Oh, well the FA is pretty good.

There wasn’t much to write about but I wanted to thank you for the box. With the sugar rationing you hadn’t better send anymore and canning coming up too.

Well I’ll yet take that all day nap you promised. Goodbye for now.

Love,

10 July 1942

Dear Nancy:

Here’s that letter promised yesterday. I prefer to write on the typewriter and it’s free right now so here goes.

Of course it’s plenty hot again today and sky is as clear as a lake, but I’m getting used to it now and don’t tire out nearly as easily as the first few days. I’m getting a pretty good brown and have a little sunburn on my back that is beginning to peel. Last night or afternoon rather, went swimming in the river where we have a typical swimming hole you read about in Mark Twain. It’s a good way to cool off for awhile but in an hour or two you are just as dirty as ever. Well I won’t be going out of camp for a while anyway. This morning I fell in at reveille formation with the improper uniform so I’m confined for a week. I sleep so sound that I don’t hear the bugle and this morning I tore out of bed and put my pants on without lacing them, hoping I could get by, but the CO saw me right away and he got pretty sore; consequently I lost my pass privilege. Oh well I guess a week won’t hurt. Two mornings ago I slept right through until breakfast but because it was my first offense they did nothing about it. This is a fairly common occurrence and orders like this are made often.

Suppose you like the new place just as much as Mom. Wish I could have helped you move. Some experts predict the end of the war this year. Let’s hope they are right and that I can sleep in my bed again. I suppose for a while after I get home I will call you into a formation and call the roll, then have you police the area and line up for chow.

We will be here only for two weeks more then I’m hoping our division will cut loose with some furloughs, that’s what we are all hoping for and making it compensate for this dust bowl. Yesterday our battery fired and the hills sounded like great clacks of thunder. On the cover page of the Saturday Evening Post is a soldier looking in a sight that is the same type as is attached to ours. Our guns throw a one hundred pound shell up to eight miles; they are used to shoot over hills and into enemy formations and only rarely shoot at an object they can see. For purposes of observation and firing data we have very slow flying aircraft that are in communication with the guns by radio. These planes can almost stand still in the air, their stalling speed is 18 miles an hour and they can land and take off almost anywhere. Also they fly low and pick up messages attached to poles. This presupposes that they would be very vulnerable to enemy aircraft but their protection lies in the fact that they fly so low and blend so well with the ground that high flying planes cannot find them, but if they are spotted, an attacking plane will invariably overshoot this target because the observation plane flies so slow. Last night an anti-aircraft battery was firing and they kept up a roar for while. Well so much for shop.

Perhaps I can write you a letter for the Herald sometime when I feel like doing some writing and am more in the mood. Well guess this is about all. Not much but the same old stuff. Thanks for the letter and keep ‘em coming.

Love,