Grandparents Archives - Page 3 of 5

3 December 1942

Dear Folks:

I’m quite a ways behind in my letters—got a hot full two days ago after the dam broke so I’ll probably be here all night answering them. And today received a telegram from Katie and Tom, sent from Torrington. Hope she has mine by now. I wish I could tell you something that has been happening lately but that will have to be storytelling later. Anyway I was able to sleep half the day, then take a swim in a reservoir. But I still feel like I’d run a marathon foot race. Two nights ago missed a letter to you for writing the news for the paper. The issue today was the sixth. Wished I could get more space. Then last Sunday spent the afternoon watching our ball team get beat again.

With mild weather prevailing here, it’s hard to imagine all of you shivering under overcoats. The flowers continue to bloom and skies to stay blue. It’s much warmer than last winter in Escondido but cool enough to sleep nights.

So far I’ve received three packages from you so I probably have the Thanksgiving box. I mailed two to you today. They weren’t insured and I hope they don’t get broke. I’m going to send some shorts for the kids soon. I know its winter there but they are so distinctive want to buy a couple pairs. And have you received the ones sent about a month ago?

Suppose Gram and Gramp are back on Coronado by this time. Bet you all had a swell time together. And Katie and Tom are deep in the throes of married ecstasy.

Haven’t got the Reader’s Digest yet—hope they start coming soon.

I guess this about covers everything this time. Yes, it would be swell if we could annilate a turkey together next Thanksgiving. Perhaps—who knows?

Goodnight another time.

Love,

23 November 1942

Dear Folks:

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

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

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

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

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

Love,

16 November 1942

Dear Dad:

I guess it’s been a long time since I’ve pinned a letter exclusively for you and now is a good a time as any to get off another. Received your long typewritten V-letter—a lot of news in it and I’m afraid I can’t reciprocate too well. I have had a couple of (letters) from Kate recently so apparently your prompting accomplished it’s purposes—but she’s pretty busy with the jump so near. It seems odd to hear about cold weather when it’s nice here—although I use my two blankets fully in the nights.

About the bonds—the deal is still on and has been since June at the rate of $12.50 per month. They should reach you soon and they will after the red tape and processing has been cut.

It seems like every letter has a little about a box and I can account for five or six now—three from you, one from gram, one from Mrs. Carroll, one from Kate and the girl in Washington. It is a darn swell feeling to know you all think of me so much. I hope you can use what I sent you and I believe you can. Maybe I should send you some sugar—there is no rationing here.

I’m really very fine and sleeping and eating like a retired postman.

Received a card from Mrs. Peters—I will answer it soon and a box from Gram that I think I told you about.

I’m up a blind alley for anything else so here’s the finis. Keep the typewriter stuttering.

Love,

2 November 1942

Dear Folks:

After reviewing two of your letters guess it is high time I took up my pen again. I think my mail is arriving okay—for many of yours have been received and hardly a mail call goes by without my getting at least one but then I never get enough to suit me. Gram is behind I believe. Perhaps if I scan over your letters, I can find something to write about. The news about Eilad Horshman is news—it was time she flew the coop though—or perhaps the coop never was much of a cage. Haven’t received the Free Press yet but they’ll get here. My tooth is yet unfixed although I had a dental appointment but it fell through. Believe they intend to pull it.

And the subscription is just the ticket—we subscribe to it but it isn’t always available and I like to read it through. I’ve answered the rest of the questions.

Tonight in the dayroom the radio is crashing on every table—there’s a game of pinochle going on, two or three books being read and plenty of letters being written and the smoke is like a blanket of clouds.

About this time every nite I turn over a leaf or two on an old memory album and look at each picture slowly and catch a glimpse of the privileges that made them possible. Guess I’ll stop with that.

Goodnite and a bomber load of love,

29 October 1942

Dear Folks:

I rang the bell today with three letters thanks to the ambition of Dick and Nancy and I’ll answer them ‘ poste roote’. All were V letters. For the past two weeks have been news fatherer for the outfit and when the next issue is pointed, I’ll send you the column to file among my service memories. News is as scarce as a Jap in Lockheed so probably most of my letters are repetition. Sure I get good grub. I’m still riding a wave of optimism concerning the war and hope I’m right. I can’t imagine it otherwise.

I can easily envision all the activity around the home site on Katie’s big day—just to meet Tommy would be something. Who’s going to say the words? And to have Gram and Gramp there will be something too.

Well Christmas is again at hand and so far I’ve had a time finding anything suitable although I’ll find something. Last Sunday went to church and our own too although the pews were warmed only by a major and two privates.

Guess I told you about the subscription to Time and The Reader’s Digest.

Sorry about the brevity of this but there isn’t any more—what a paltry of peas would taste like right now.

Love and goodnite,

20 October 1942

Dear Dad:

Your V letter caught up with me so to end up another day will answer it now. I’ve been waiting for a letter to tell you that you had received mine and probably by the time you read this you will have a room full. As usual I can’t think of much to write about. Days are about the same with the same routine. I’m acting as correspondent of our battery for the island Army newspaper and spent part of the day writing news and the ballgame last Sunday. We were defeated 15-0 but we’ve just begun to practice. Perhaps yesterday was memorable-my first hot shower since my stay on the island. Received a letter from Gram about Sonny Bennet—have been writing her about twice weekly. Sent a card. Waiting for Bob Hope to come on. Had a letter from Mrs. Carroll giving me Duane’s address. Perhaps I’ll write him. Don’t worry about your literary style, Dad and wear out a few typewritten ribbons.

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,

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,

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,

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,