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12 August 1944

12 August 1944

Dear Folks:

If this was a Saturday night at home I certainly wouldn’t be having any time to write.  A Saturday night over here is pretty monotonous and letter writing is the chief way to kill some time.  We have a small generator in the battery and a few tents have electric lights.  So that’s why I can write at night.  The ‘Hippodrome’ closes every week at this time, and when the show is going there isn’t much to do.  I walked over to the Jeep and listened to some news and music for a while but that grew tiresome so this is where I ended up.

The day before yesterday I flew to Saipan in a Liaison plane to see Dick.  You know I am now on Tinian and I believe I told you all about that if it wasn’t censored.  It is only a ten-minute ride but it was a nice one.  We landed on Aslitho airfield and then I went right to see Dick.  He’s very well and looking fine.  I think he’s even getting heavier if my eyes don’t deceive me.  The mud is about ankle deep all over the island and the hitchhiking was bad.  I hadn’t seen him since about the last of July, so I thought I better get over while I had the chance. Of course I took all the letters that I had received from you so he could read them.  After I left Dick, stopped in at Jack’s outfit and spent a few minutes with him.  I didn’t have much time but thought I better stop.  I don’t think I’ll be seeing him for a long time to come.  He was running around in shorts helping put up a building.  He gave me the picture I’m enclosing.  It was taken on Oahu just before I left.  He took several others but this one is the only one he had time to develop.  He said he would forward the rest as soon as they are done.  I guess we both look kind of ‘goony’ in it but otherwise it’s pretty good.

The war news sounds increasingly good each week.  We hear most of the world news and from both sides.  According to our version we are going great guns in Europe and I guess the Pacific is rolling too.  Tokyo radio the other day announced that all Jap civilians would be armed to defend the country – if that is the case it will be a bloody slaughter.  But that isn’t so much different than here. Most of the civilians go with the soldiers and take part in the ‘banzi’ zero hour attacks.  I hope you read in the July 24th issue of Time about the last attack of the Japs north of Garapan on Saipan.  That is the place I visited and that I told you about in one of my previous letters.  The more you see of them the more you become convinced they are mad, unreasoning 20th century cannibals.

I suppose by now that you have heard of the Army’s new rotation plan.  The time is now three years overseas, after which you become eligible for return and reassignment on the mainland.  Well that’s another year to wait before there is even any hopes of getting back, and even then much is still probable.  There is a furlough plan in effect but the quotas are so small I think it must be more of a morale builder than anything else.

Well there isn’t much else I can think of to write, although it isn’t very late. I’m still getting along very well and feeling good.  In this weather skin diseases and ailments seem to be common and coral cuts take a long time to heal.  It seems like all little scratches and cuts don’t heal up like they used to at home.

Guess I better peel off, and go to bed and for the Nth time think of you without being able to say goodnight to you.

Love,

Harold Moss Signature
7 August 1944

7 August 1944

Dear Folks:

In a few minutes I’m going over the hill and down the road to the show but first I better scratch you out a short epistle.  The last time I wrote you I was on Saipan where I was with Dick and where I could see Jack, but now I’m three miles across the channel on Tinian.  Tinian is a green, oblong island with a plateau down the middle.  It reminds me much of Maui.  The fields are well laid out, and abounding with sugar cane, sweet potatoes and other small crops.  Looking at the valley from Lake Minatare is much like the scene from here.  Most of the farm homes I have seen look as though the Jap farmers must have been pretty well off.  More presentable than those on Saipan.  Tinian towns must have been picturesque little settlements when it was whole, but now it looks like Garapan.  I never imagined I would see such destruction as I had seen in newsreels, etc., but that’s all I have seen for the last two months.  Every building and shed has been hit, and even small houses setting hidden in cane fields have been demolished.  On most of the Jap homes, the house is of wood with a tin roof, while the barn is usually reinforced concrete about eight inches thick, and a large cistern to collect rain water.  Water by the way is a pretty important matter here and probably it contributed no little in whipping the Japs.  Probably every Jap farmer was forced to build a concrete barn and maintain some stock for the army.  On the southern part of the island snipers and civilians are being collected, although the island has been secured for some time.  From the wreckage of houses we have taken what was left to make ourselves some shelter against the rain, and I wished you could see some of the Rube Goldberg contraptions that have been arranged.  The architectural masterpieces that are showers are something to see.  It seems that every piece of wreckage can be put to use in some way.  It has been raining a lot lately and the mud is bad to slip around in.  I’m getting behind on dirty clothes and tomorrow I think I’ll be forced to do some laundry.  I wished you could see us whip up our supper.  We have a small stove and we’re sure to make some man a good wife.  The rations get a little tiresome but soon we’ll have a kitchen and back to good rations.

Well Mom and Dad I’m still very well.  Dengue fever has hit some but I’ve been okeh so far.  Of course the only really bad element to it all is the distance from home.  I haven’t seen Dick for a week or two and probably won’t get to see him for some time although you can never tell.  Probably I may not see Jack again either.  Dusk is pulling the shades down so I better grab my mosquito drop and flashlight and get along to the show.  Last night we sat in the rain and saw a show that was bad for the dogfaces titled ‘Love Can’t Be Rationed’.  About the scarcity of men in the states and the feminine wolves.  What a situation.  Well adios this time.

Love,

Harold Moss Signature
18 July 1944

18 July 1944

Dear folks:

Time out for another communiqué from Saipan and what I did and saw this morning should give me enough material for a good one but I don’t know how much you like to know about this stuff – I mean maybe you would rather not hear all the worse aspects. Dick came around this morning about ten in a jeep and asked me if I wanted to see some of the island and I said sure so we took off up through Charan Kanoa and on through Garapan to the north where the Japs held out the longest.  Dick had been around there before and knew where to go.  He wanted to find a Jap pistol and at the same time show me some dead Japs, and as we got near the area I didn’t know whether I was going to feel right or not.  Finally we pulled across a young cane field and came to stop about fifty yards from the beach.  I noticed the stench was terrific and the flies could be counted by the hundreds, and I felt a little hesitant at having to look around.  After putting a shell in the chamber I got out and Dick and I walked into the underbrush and trees.  We didn’t go far before we could see plenty of dead Japs.  Many of them had committed suicide by putting a grenade on their stomach and some had taken off one shoe, putting the end of the barrel in their stomach and fired their rifle with their big toe.  I saw several of these.  They have odd and many ways of killing themselves and one group looked as though they had lined up laying down and let the man in back of him blow his brains out.  We must have walked three or four hundred yards down the beach and the dead were scattered all through the area.  Some civilians had refused to give up and stayed with the soldiers and there was many of them all ages, some in family groups.  A number of the soldiers had bottles of sake and more of them had nothing but a stick with a spike on the end for a weapon.  Some had attempted to crawl over the rocks on the edge of the water and swim away and in one place in an opening in the rocks there must have been a dozen.  Dick found a very good looking officer’s sword in good condition.  They are about the most prize souvenir to get and we felt darn lucky.  Well about eleven thirty we started back down the wreckage littered road.  I thought a lot of things about what the war all means and how come all these people and soldiers are dead, and will they do the same thing fifty or a hundred years from now, but that’s all of no avail.  Garapan is a little smaller than Scottsbluff and the town was leveled.  If you can imagine the Stockfleth Chevrolet Garage when it burned and then apply it to every building in town you can see what a mess it must be.  It must have been a neat little town sitting below Mt. Tapochata but it is wreckage and debris from one end of the town to the other.

I still ate a pretty good dinner when I got back, and now it’s about time to take a good shower and get the smell off me.  Also this morning I found a pack of Jap money – there must have been about seven or eight thousand yen in it.  The exchange rate is twenty yen to a dollar. How can I sleep with so much money?  Ol’ Dick’s quite a soldier and hale as ever.  He doesn’t write much I guess but he’s okeh and wanting to get home as much as I do.  Guess this is enough for this time – will give another communiqué on my experiences in a day or two.

Love,

Harold Moss Signature
18 July 1944

18 July 1944

[Harold types]

Dear Folks:

Dick came down to see me today and I thought while we were laying around we just as well write you a letter – or try to.  Right after we had dinner we walked along the beach road from Charan Kanoa to the end of the island looking for an army cemetery but couldn’t find it.  While we were looking for the place, Dick showed me the places where his outfit landed and even where he dug his first foxhole.  And we found a lot of Jap caves that were well concealed and topped over with a lot of dirt and leaves.  They dig in like [illegible] caves are transforming the face of the [illegible] saw several thick walled concrete [illegible] from the point we had a good view of Tinian [illegible] over there must be thinking – if they can see what is going on [illegible] there is (a) sugar factory that stands out on the landscape.  It took quite a beating from navy shells and girders and machinery are flung everywhere.  From the factory runs a number of narrow gauge railroad lines.  The army captured a few locomotives and now you can hear their high pitched whistle as the guys chug along using the cars to haul supplies, etc.  The trains are small and look more like oversized toys. We haven’t had a look at Carapan yet and I have been itching to get up there and see what goes. The town is about ten thousand so there must be quite a lot to see.  I haven’t seen a newspaper or magazine since I left Oahu and today Dick walked in with a Time magazine.  I’m anxious to review it from cover to cover.  I was asking Dick what I should write about and he said to mention that we will be sending home some souvenirs soon when the situation permits.  I told you about the bayonet and the flag.  In addition to those Dick got a wallet with quite a sum of Jap money in it, and many pictures of the officer’s family and what must be his wife. Also he got his insignia of a 2nd lieutenant.  He’ll probably have some more before it is all over.  The weather here is about the same as on Oahu but right now is the season when the monsoons begin and the past few nights there have been heavy rainstorms.  They say hurricanes strike near the island about once every two years and I hope this isn’t one of them.  Today is pretty hot and sultry and the sand all around is hard on the eyes.

We were both wondering about Phil and whether he has come into the army yet.  Every once in a while you see a crude handwritten sign over a foxhole saying Frisco 7752 miles, Tokyo 1521, and then we realize just how far away we are.  Guam lies about 103 miles to the south and just to the north are the Bonims(?).  It’s going to be a long boat ride home someday but we’re ready to accept it any time.  And remind us never to take another ocean voyage when we get home. The food was pretty good on the boats but the chow lines are hard to buck, and the accommodations are hardly first class.  Well I’m going to turn this over to Dick and let him add a few lines.

[Dick handwrites]

Today being Sunday I went to communion and then to see Harold.  We’re taking it easy now after a little uneasiness.  I’ll write some time later.

Love,

Dick

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