Mail Archives - Moss Letters

3 August 1945

Dear Folks:

This is one of those rainy days when you feel like sleeping, and being cozy but I can’t do it when I have so many letters to write. Mail has been coming slow the past couple of days but with the rainy weather it’s no wonder. It has been raining hard and almost without let up for two days now. But we are sleeping in pyramidal tents and except when we go out we keep pretty dry. Along with the rain is driving winds that blow the rain in sheets. Boy it really rains. You’d think the whole countryside was going to blow away. But this afternoon it looks like the clouds may be breaking up a little and I hope it does before the show tonight.

Two nights ago I sat through a drenching rain on a sandbag to see ‘Valley of Decision’. If it had been any other show I would have left. I thought it was excellent. If it isn’t rain, it [is] usually an air raid, or something else that stops the show.

A short time ago at an ungodly hour in the morning, a Jap plane or planes came over and then I heard a clatter of machine guns. Either they were strafing or our planes were trying to shoot them down. Believing it was all over I went back to bed and was about to sleep when I heard that watery, swishy sound of a bomb falling. I rolled out of bed without regard to the mosquito bar and pulled it down with me to the floor. It was funny. By the time all of us were up going out the door of the tent, we heard another coming so we all flopped to the floor and waited. Then they went off and it was quiet. To have a plane up there dropping eggs out of a black night isn’t pleasant. But my hitting the floor so fast and ripping my net in the process, caused me some ribbing, but I believe in hitting the dirt fast. You should see us hug old Mother earth when things get hot.

Had a letter from Dad yesterday. I hope you’re right about the war being over soon but I don’t know. Japan is taking a lot, but she can absorb plenty more.

Got the clipping about Wylma getting married. It’s kind of hard to believe after having gone with her so long and knowing her as I did. But like a lot of other guys it’s just a case of being away too long. In the letter I got from her she didn’t mention him, in fact she seemed unattached altogether.

I have been waiting to hear from Dick. We sent some boys home on furlough and I thought perhaps he might have gotten one from his outfit. As afar as my getting home is concerned it is just sit and wait and not worry about it. Dick has 71 points but I’m afraid it will not be lowered that much although later he may become eligible. I’m not eligible for furlough now unless I sign up to stay in the service, which I wouldn’t do with my score. I couldn’t say whether Dick was going into combat again or not if I knew, but I really don’t know. I believe he’s living fairly decent now, and I hope he can stay with me for a few days.

Was just issued two bottles of beer, but better save them for some other time.

I guess this is all I can think of this time. I’m feeling fine, and not being overworked, and I think I’ve added a pound or two in the last three weeks.

Until the next time.

Love,

6 July 1945

Dear Folks:

Expect to see a show again this evening but first I better take care of my obligations. Had a letter from you Dad today. Mail is good.

Well yesterday General Stilwell spoke over Radio Okinawa. It was in his usual undiplomatic, colorful style. During it he said, “As soldiers you know what war is and no one else does. I’m not going to talk about glorious victories, because I know you would say ‘horse feathers’, or worse, and turn off the radio.” My first speech to hear from him left a good impression. And of course I caught this, “For those of you who have the points and will be going home, we will be sorry to see you leave, and will have great responsibilities to carry on.” It was a good speech.

Just for something to write about here’s something funny as hell that happened, and let you know a little how we feel. One of the guys found a brassiere someplace and at evening mess of course he was forced to put it on. This guy is a born comic anyway and the antics he did with it put everyone in stitches. It was really funny.

The wheels of demobilization seem to be turned a little and I look forward to being home as I’ve said before. But the main thing that (this paper is not good to write on) [Harold moved to another sheet of paper, leaving over half of this sheet blank] that is that I’m sure there will be no more combat for me. I can sweat out what time remains.

Boy, was I surprised about Major Bowers and Fred Meyers.

I’m afraid I can’t dig up anything more for tonight so I’ll call this quits.

Love,

17 June 1945

Dear Folks:

Rather quiet this Sunday afternoon so I better grab hold of myself and get a few letters written. A few minutes ago I just returned from church services in the mess tent. The first we have had in three weeks due to the situation.

It is continuing (to) dry and today it is very warm but a slight breeze is blowing that makes it cool in the shade. Mosquitoes are bad at night but of course we all have nets and take Atabrine to curb malaria. Also planes spray the island often and it keeps the flies down to a minimum. They come soaring over very low letting out a white trail of insecticide.

Well, the Japs are now very compressed on the southern end of the island and I hear we have only about a mile to go – should be over in a couple of days. Our artillery has been sitting up a constant barrage. I suppose the Japs are about gone nuts now. Our sleeping tent is setting upwind of one of our gun batteries and every time they fire, the smoke blows down right over us, and it smells exactly like rotten egg gas, but we get used to it.

I’m still very fine and comparatively safe and little excitement has happened for me. All I’m afraid of is a Jap sneaking in at night, but we are well protected, so that isn’t much of a threat, just a possibility. About a week ago two of them tried to slip in the motor pool but the boys spotted them and fired at them. But they got away and before leaving dropped their packs, both full of grenades.

Just a second ago a guy brought me two letters, one from Dad and from Nancy. Nancy says she doubts if it rains as hard here as at home – well 13 inches in a week is a lot. Never saw it rain that much in Nebraska.

Now that things appear to be loosening up on getting home, I’m getting impatient. Between you and me I figure I’ll hit the September or October quota, but don’t bank too heavily on it. I just cannot imagine myself back with you and enjoying myself at home and being completely independent, at least for a while. But I feel certain I will see you this year and not as Nancy says, by the time she graduates – that’s much too far away.

No, I never get enough of your letters, dad as you say, to the contrary. I’m always watching the mail orderly and it’s very seldom I walk away from a mail call without anything. You do a good job of writing and I know it’s a big job writing to three of us but I hope soon that it will be cut to two, by me getting home.

Love,

20 April 1945

Dear Folks:

Only time to write you a few lines but I know you want to hear. Your mail is coming through in an excellent manner and it is surprising how fast. I can’t mention specific dates. Much of this mail is fairly old stuff held up by the circumstances, but the recent stuff is also coming. It is needless to say how good it is to get them. Had two from Dad today just after dinner. I will have a lot of letters to write when things quiet down.

I can’t tell you much about the campaign but you can get a fairly accurate account from the papers. I will see Dick every opportunity I have and will let you know immediately. I’m fine and feeling good. The doctor was a little concerned about my illness but after two negative urinalysis he concluded it was neuritis. Anyway it left and has not reoccurred. I have an excellent buddy and that helps. So does Dick from what they have gone through they know each other inside and out. They look for each other.

I will write again soon and in the meantime have confidence and I know everything will turn out alright.

Love,

17 April 1945

Dear Folks:

I’m afraid this letter will be very brief, but I had to write because of some good news. Dick called me on the phone so I got in a jeep and picked him up. Then we came back and had supper and did a lot of talking. He is looking very good and full of cheer and smiling. One of the first things we had was to exchange our letters as all mail has a high value. He was all dirty so before chow he cleaned up. After mess we talked for a while then he had to leave. Said he sees Dye Carroll often and his mouth still puts out a torrent of baloney. Dick said he acts like an old veteran, but if he starts on me I’ll blow my lid. Wait till he gets a belly full of it. I’m in no mood to tolerate a fresh stateside cookie.

I’m fine and feeling good because much mail has been coming but one thing I want you to do is this. Mail the Free Press in a large envelope first class. It never gets to me as second class. I haven’t received one in months. Also I would like you to send Time magazine and Newsweek the same way. It’s the only way I can get up to date news from periodicals.

Well I’ll write more later. Reading my Episcopal prayer book is a great source of confidence and knowing you are thinking of me helps greatly.

Love,

16 April 1945

Dear folks:

Just received a V-mail from Mom, a letter from Gram and one from June so while there is a lull in things perhaps I better take advantage of it. You said you received a letter from me, the latter part of March and also that you didn’t think I was feeling well. As a matter of fact I wasn’t at that time. I was hearing about Okinawa and of course that isn’t anything to look forward to. The past two days have been hot ones and I don’t mean weather alone, and two days ago I was about as scared as I have yet been. A Jap shell hit about 35 yards from me. I was in a foxhole and the shrapnel passed over my head by about 2 feet going into the office, ripping a leg off a chair and going into several reams of paper. Other boxes were hit and our tent was full of holes. Undergoing a shelling is nerve wracking and I’m still uneasy. It probably isn’t over with yet. Now we sleep in foxholes and while walking around always subconsciously watching for a place to duck.

With the great air activity around I have seen several Jap planes shot down and hardly a night passes but what the sky is filled up with red tracers and ach ach bursts. Naval planes are in full support of the operation and yesterday while eating I could watch plane after plane roar in and drop their bombs or let go their rockets. The rockets make a loud hissing roar and explode with great concussion. If I felt more like it, I would like to write you a long account but just don’t feel up to it.

However I’m feeling fine and taking precautions and hoping above all I can see you this year.

The boxes I received were in good condition and everything was eatable and the cokes were especially good. Received a few Christmas cards yesterday so perhaps the packages will yet come.

Had a letter from Phil yesterday and answered it right away. I’m so glad he got in the Navy. At least he won’t have to live in foxholes and will always know where his bed is.

I’m going to stop and I’ll write you as often as possible and don’t worry for we’ll all forget it when we are all together again.

Love,

11 April 1945

Dear folks:

Just received two letters, one from each of you. The first since coming to Okinawa, and needless to say they were much awaited. And very recent too.

In reading the clippings I see Jack Conklin is home on furlough. I can imagine how he feels about getting back for a while. I’m always reading and hearing of guys going back but it never seems to happen to me. And the greater percent of those all have less service. But I’m hoping that after this operation some of us will be granted furloughs. But I almost hate to comment on it because everything is so changeable.

Here on the island it has begun to rain and when it rains the soil which is a heavy clay, sticks to feet and wheels like glue. This morning my shoes must have weighed at least ten pounds from the mud. And it’s slippery and cold. I almost froze last night but I have the situation remedied for tonight. Have seen quite a number of Okinawa civilians walking along the road, most of them seem very old or very young. I guess the rest are fighting us. Almost all wear black for mourning I believe over their fate. Whereas on Saipan I felt some compassion for them. I no longer feel the same about these people. An interesting item is that there are 30,000 more women than men. From what I have seen they seem docile and cooperative enough. Nights ring with the crack of artillery fire and naval shells and flares can be seen in all directions. From reading the papers you can gather more of the activity around here than I can tell you, but undoubtedly it will be a costly and no quarter fight. Our living conditions are very good considering we are in combat, and I assure you I will be as careful as is possible.

As some of the usual paperwork has slowed down, I have been writing a battalion newspaper and trying to catch the news as it comes from the radio. It takes some time but it makes it go faster.

This is all for this time and I should be able to write you fairly regularly.

Love,

20 March 1945

Dear Folks:

It’s been some time since I have written you but I have had little occasion to do so. However perhaps I can get going again. A few days ago I received three packages, one from Kate and two from you. Perhaps they will yet get to me. They were Christmas boxes containing the fruit cakes. No I haven’t gotten one from Gram or from Mrs. Conklin. I see more mail has come in tonight so perhaps there will be something there. Well I’m feeling pretty good but hardly anything newsworthy has happened. Mail has been coming in good and yesterday received one from Wylma, the first in over two years.

I’m sorry I haven’t more to write about but perhaps I can do better next time.

Love,

27 February 1945

Dear Folks:

Had a nice letter from Dad today so as long as I couldn’t stand the show just as well spend the time writing. Have been feeling very bad all day. My old kidney attacks began early this morning and haven’t let up all day except that I feel pretty decent now. I went to the hospital again this morning for a urinalysis but won’t know the result until tomorrow. Later the doctor felt around, took my blood pressure, and thumped a few places. He thinks it is urethral colic or perhaps auritis. It has been effecting me on and off for the past two weeks. Sometimes it gets pretty bad. Well the doc told me to go to bed for a few days and wait to see what the hospital does.

I’m keeping very busy but feeling like I do, I don’t have much ambition sometimes.

Pat sent me her picture a few days ago and she is an attractive girl. She writes me often.

I’m sure I’m not getting too much beer – perhaps it would average up to about a bottle every 3 days and lately we have had none at all.

As far as Christmas packages go, I have given up – they are surely sunk. The other mail comes good and I think the others would be here if it was possible.

Now as far as my experience with the Red Cross and what they are doing here. Practically all our emergency furloughs are based on their recommendations and that’s practically the only way to get one. That’s why it is important to contact them first when something serious happens at home. Other than that I’ve had no dealing with them. I think they do most of their work at the hospital. Occasionally a Red Cross girl comes around in a truck with cokes, a little candy and a ready conversation. A field worker is always handy and they have been every place I have.

The wind has been blowing all day and the dirt and sand is something fierce. I hope it rains soon. It raises hell with our typewriters and everything rusts overnight. What a country. But last night was very beautiful with a bright moon and the tall palm trees. For the moment at least, I imagined the war was non-existent.

I have nothing more, I feel like hitting the hay and calling it another day.

Love,

24 February 1945

Dear Folks:

Had a lot of mail today so the least I can do is to sit down a while and answer a few of them. Had two letters from Dad, one from Mom, one from Pat and one from Washington. A very good day for mail. And all in good time.

Went to the show for a while but didn’t stay long – couldn’t sit still long enough. Been busy all day – a big inspection tomorrow that seems like a lot of baloney to me, but there’s nothing to be done about it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about you the last few days and last night had a glorious dream of being home. Read a few Star-Heralds tonight and in the service column noticed there is always men returning and with much less overseas time than mine. I sneered when I saw an article that said so and so receives his first furlough in over two years. What a laugh. I’ve had damn near four [years] and never been home. Of course someday our chance will come but it seems impossible to enjoy once again some civilian relaxation. Guess I should have signed up for the Navy.

Listened to the news a while tonight and hear the Marines have a scrap on their hands at Iwo Jima. But they’ll finish them off. The Japs are crazy and in [a] tight spot, go nuts and beserk. They are madmen. The news from Europe is good and Germany will crack any time, but it is taking plenty of casualties to do it.

Been reading my law books lately and the more I do, the stronger is the desire to seriously study it. But lately I have had only intermittent opportunities to read and then not for as long as I would like. If I never use it at least it is a goal to acquire an LLB.

You have never mentioned the money I sent home. I’m getting just the slight bit uneasy. $40 was sent the 6^th of January and $50 around the 1^st of February. It is a new system so perhaps that accounts for the delay.

Your letters today were certainly welcome and read and re-read many times. I guess our whole relationship the past 3 ½ years has been dependent on letters. Perhaps they are wonderful things.

It’s getting late and as it usually does, it’s beginning to rain. I think I’ve seen more rain since being overseas than in all my ‘old country’ days. Well this is it for tonight.

Love,