Military daily life Archives

17 August 1945

Dear Folks:

Had a nice batch of mail today so I better deserve it and try to answer some of it. Had a letter from Dad, one from Kate, one from Washington, and a letter from the University of Nebraska.

Well it appears that the war is over, and that it will be official today or tomorrow. I’m saving my last two bottles of beer for the celebration, and I can’t hold off much longer. The actual reality of the things hasn’t taken hold yet. Now I suppose you have figured that I should be home in a very short time, perhaps a month or so, but as a matter of fact it doesn’t appear that way. It seems that something always happens to delay it, and they have an excuse readily handy. Our outfit is always at the wrong place at the wrong time. For all I know we may be used for occupation forces and no telling how much longer a delay that will mean. If I’m not on my way in a month and a half I’ll start blowing up. It will be three years over here and four [years] away from home, and I’ve had about all I want. A lot of delays, red tape and excuses such as shipping and replacements is getting too common. This hot stinking Pacific and three years looking into oriental faces is too much. I guess what gets me started is the good deal the troops in Europe get, and their short stays overseas, and then in the Free Press today I see Capt. Fred Chambers, never overseas, in four years is back to Dorothy’s wedding. I feel like I could get roaring drunk tonight and poke somebody just to be doing it.

I better return to normal and discuss things more sensibly. Kate’s far between letters made an appearance today, but she didn’t have much to say. Said she was chasing Steve on her day off. I guess I better try to answer it tonight. In the letter from Washington she wants me to see her before heading home. In her letter she said ‘probably you’ll be on your way before you get this letter’. Golly if she only knew, but everybody’s like that I guess. The civilians think that whenever they hear an announcement over the radio it will just be a matter of weeks before it will take effect. They think you apply for furloughs, readjustment etc, but actually you just sit back and wait and hope and think.

One of Dad’s good letters came along too, I see you don’t know just what to do about the store and the company, and I can imagine how you feel. Dick and I thought you should stick with the company for a while yet. Dick shouldn’t be in the army too much longer and I bet he’d help you, and I would too for the time that I am home. Dick and I always talk over the humble beginnings of your store, and now we are proud as the devil of you. There are certainly lots of possibilities as you say. You seem to be doing very good, and Dick and I could hardly believe it. And what you say about the store is interesting, not boring.

Dick and I would both like you to send Nancy away for a while and let her have a good time. I know she must deserve it and I know how much I would have looked forward to it if I were her age. Better send her, it will do her good.

Yesterday afternoon I went to a hardball game and saw the XXIV Corps play Naha airfield, and the Corps won. It was the firsthand ball game I’d seen in a long time so I liked it. We had to sit in a broiling sun with our fannies on the ground so I’m a little sore today. And I’ve been playing a little softball today myself. Was playing second base and when trying to put a man out he charged me in the ribs and a couple of them are pretty sore tonight.

It is really hot, just knocks the sap out of you. Sweat all the time.

Well I think I’ll knock off and start on another letter. Censorship soon [will] be lifted now that the war is over, but I haven’t heard anything about it.

So long for now.

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,

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,

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,

22 July 1945

Dear Folks:

Sitting on my bunk in a pair of drawers trying to keep cool and trying to decide whether to write or just be lazy. Well I decided to do both – write a while then relax. Today is Sunday and it is a day off. A few days ago we moved into our permanent area which means rehabilitation and taking it fairly easy. Afternoons will be given to baseball or some kind of athletics. This morning I went to church at eleven o’clock in the artillery chapel. A simple but impressive altar was built by a couple of carpenters. It makes a better place than out in the open as it was before. Now we have a PX and a choice of four movies in the evening, also the Red Cross has a canteen but I haven’t been down yet. Having lights in our tent I hope to get some reading done also. We don’t black out in the evenings as you might think but it blacks out fast if a red alert comes in.

Had two letters today one from Dad and one from Gladys Davis who is now Mrs. W. R. Johnson. She’s pretty happy. I certainly think you and Dad should go to Denver and take a good vacation and just do nothing or whatever you feel like and the longer the better. I hope you go. Dick and I will not be in combat and you shouldn’t be disturbed as you were last year. So you better be sure and do it.

Sent you a check for $108.00 about a week ago so let me know if you get it. You should also get four bonds for the months of March, April, May, and June.

Nothing new to report on getting home although my hopes are still high.

Glad to hear you are better Mom and perhaps the vacation will do you some good.

This is about all I have so until next time.

Love,

16 July 1945

Dear Folks:

I’m taking it easy this afternoon but can’t sleep much ‘cause it’s too hot, so maybe I can catch up on a few letters. Boy, it’s been hot the last couple of weeks and today it’s really warm, one of those prewar, stateside days when you went to the lake and swam and ate watermelon. Have had no opportunity to go swimming although the ocean looks cool and blue from the hills. At some spots in the hills there are beautiful views of the harbor and coastline, green near the beach and deep blue farther out. Looking down on this at night, it is a myriad of lights, like travelog pictures of Rio de Janiero. I know you would be amazed at the vast amount of construction and activity here. It seems almost a miracle to me how fast big machinery and installations go to work and how fast the landscape changes. Now we have broad three and four lane highways where before our trucks had to be tractor-towed to get through. When I returned to places I had seen earlier in the campaign I could hardly find my way around. The face of the island had been changed so much. In the villages and cities the civilians are picking through the rubble piles salvaging what they can so the mess can be cleaned up and bulldozed into a nice area. And in the fields the civilians are hoeing and harvesting what produce they can. I saw a big bunch yesterday and I noticed there was almost no guard around them. They seem cooperative and quiet.

I’m glad you wanted me to go to school because before I thought maybe you didn’t like the idea so well and thought perhaps I should do something else. I’m looking forward to it like everything.

Well the heat has deadened my stimulus for any more writing so I’ll call this good. Dad thought I might not want to talk of my experiences but as a matter of fact I am looking forward to telling you all about them. At least to you but I don’t know about other people. Well so long for now.

Love,

7 July 1945

Dear Folks:

Kind of late to be writing but I’m feeling kind of fidgety and restless while waiting to go to bed. Kind of a tiring day, so darn much paperwork it seems, but a shower brightened me up a little. It seems like the guys can always rig up a shower no matter how scarce materials are. Gas drums and a few pieces of gas pipe make up the installation.

A few nights ago I saw the show “Mrs. Parkington”. I thought it was very good. As yet we don’t have movies in our own area but it shouldn’t be long until we do. Wasn’t able to get done in time tonight or I would have gone. The hot rainless days continue seeming to weigh you down by the sultry heat, but the nights are pretty decent although some nights I don’t cover up until pretty late in the morning. Last night a few Japs around kept me awake, machine guns, and flares going off. Don’t think I’m in much danger because it isn’t as bad as it sounds. Really what it turns out to be is more of a sideshow for many of us. Last night a Jap got caught in a flare in the middle of a road junction and he was a gone pigeon before he could get away. Anyway, about one o’clock I finally got to sleep. Then this morning two or three Japs were cornered in a cane field and I sat on a bank watching the guys surround it and toss in grenades. Working in the office I don’t go on patrol but sometimes when things happen close I can get a spectator’s look.

Well tomorrow is another Sunday and I hope we can get a chaplain for services. Probably we will. How I’d like to sit in St. Andrews in Scottsbluff and be in a quiet, real church. I wished you could have seen the Episcopal Cathedral in Honolulu. It was certainly beautiful. For a long time after I left Oahu, the church sent me their publications and on Saipan I received two invitations to dances. I wasn’t able to attend [ha].

Dick and I haven’t been able to get together again but I’m sure we can have a few together soon. I don’t know where Duane is but probably he’ll show up one of these days. I told Dick about the newspaper article about meeting Duane and he laughed plenty and said it was a lot of beans.

It’s almost nine o’clock and I have another letter to write so I better stop. My getting home continues to look good and of course now knowing I can get out, it is hard on the patience. But I can hold out a little longer after so long. All I can think in our postwar plans is getting back to school.

Well au revoir.

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,

28 June 1945

Dear folks,

I’m so tired I could drop but before I do perhaps I can get a short letter off to you. The end of an operation always means a lot of paperwork in way of reports and decorations, so now I’m catching it.

I’m still looking at the pictures you sent whenever I get a little time to myself. Mom looks like she is worrying more than she ought to. I’m very proud of you in your Nurses Aid uniform and like to show it around. I hope in a few months I can remove that worried look or at least some of it. And things seem to indicate that it won’t be long before I can see you. I was awake till twelve last night going over in my mind how it will be when I see you first. Perhaps it will soon be a reality.

I hear we are getting a PX tomorrow, perhaps I can get something besides regular chow.

I wish I could think of something more to write about but I think I better fold up for tonight and perhaps the next one will be some better.

Love,

26 June 1945

Dear Folks:

I hadn’t intended to write tonight but had a nice letter from you with the pictures so I’m in the mood. The pictures are very good. Your dress tied in the back brings back the days when we always were tugging at some part of your apparel. Phil looks well filled out and husky and very nice looking, and it looks like Carol and him make a good pair. He looks nice in his uniform. In his letters Phil says Carol is a ‘slick dish’ or ‘takes the cake’. Dad’s store has certainly grown from its humble beginnings in the Flower house garage. And all since I’ve been away. I hope it grows in the future as it has in the past.

This afternoon I slept – soundly and someone told me I even snored. The first afternoon like that in a long time. We are having it easier now – are getting volleyball courts and baseball diamonds and will probably be on a half-day schedule. Soon we will have a canteen and some movies.

Some evenings we have quite a little show shooting up Japs who wander around and almost every day we bag a few. Yesterday we spotted a group in a cave and after some excitement 7 Japs were dead. Still quite a few running around. About every night a few Japs try to infiltrate back along a road that runs along a little valley near our area. Then flares go up and the machine guns start spitting red tracers. We overlook the road so when things start we gather on the hill and watch like spectators in the bleachers of a rodeo. Sometimes we can see the Japs trying to scramble up the road bank or run when the flare bursts over them. A few nights ago a fellow in the battery who is called the “Deacon” killed a husky Jap who got in pretty close. Being the person he was, jibbed him plenty. But we are pretty safe. It is pretty hard to [end of the letter is missing]