Military daily life Archives - Page 2 of 12

24 June 1945

Dear Folks:

Another Sunday just finishing and it had its small share of something different. Today at three we had Protestant services and I find myself liking the chaplain more every day. Also a super special treat this morning was fresh fried eggs – the first since Leyte and one of (the) few specials in the past year. And almost as good as a big red apple. I could eat a bushel of them.

My morale was braced somewhat today by the rumor that all men with points over the critical score would be home by September. But I can’t let myself believe it because it would be too big a letdown if no soap. All kinds of stories have their followers – here’s another – men with enough points will be kept in a pool until sent home. I hope a few of the good ones materialize.

Had a letter from June a few days ago. She says she may head for Europe to see Loyd.

Have you done any ‘casual’ investigating about Wylma? I’m very anxious to hear from her.

Well I can’t find much else to write about but at least it’s a letter.

Love,

22 June 1945

Dear Folks:

Here I am writing you again. It seems like the day is missing something until I get a letter off to you. I just showered up if you call it that. We dug a small well but it keeps supplied with all the water we need. You can strike water by digging two or three feet. A beautiful evening today, so quiet and peaceful. Here isn’t so much noise now that the island is secured. On patrol today we killed five Japs after a little skirmish. They tossed a few grenades and fired some but we didn’t get scratch. I don’t go along – want to protect that 91 points. I hear that General Stilwell is now commanding the Tenth Army since Buckner was killed. I think ‘Vinegar Joe’ will be alright.

Had a letter from Nancy today – the one with the crossword puzzle in it. Me and the Chinaman will have to get together on it.

There isn’t much else newsworthy so I’ll call this my effort for today.

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,

4 June 1945

Dear Folks:

I’m sitting in a little office tent feeling miserable as the water continually pours down and makes the ground a spongy mass of wet clay. It’s too wet to work and while I’m loafing around perhaps I can answer some of the letters I got today. Today was a good day to get mail, when practically the only bright spot in the day, was a letter. I had one from Mom, one from Dad and one from Dick. Mom’s was very recent and Dad’s was a little older. Maybe if I can go through them again for the nth time, I can find something to write about.

I know how good it must have been to see Phil and I’ll bet he looked very good. Probably he is married now, and you gave him the present from me that I mentioned. I think your attitude is the best one – about letting him get married. Personally I like the idea fine.

I’m glad Dick wrote you such a nice letter. He’s a swell guy and really appreciates things more than appears on the surface. Was glad to hear from him today and I’m expecting that we can soon get together under peaceful circumstances.

But opposite the bad news and miserable weather is the good news that the troops are going great guns on Okinawa. I think it’s about over and one more campaign gone by. I hope I have seen my last one.

I remember Everly Gibbons alright and the last I heard of him, he was a captain in the army. I always did suspect him of being a little abnormal but from the story in your letter, he must have went whole hog.

I remember Dad’s letter about the Youmans-Harris fund and I can imagine the waves of gossip it must have created. My opinion of Mrs. Youmans is getting worse every day – perhaps their money they used to have, detracted from what she was really made of.

Maybe it was a good thing Dad cautioned about just walking in because I had actually thought of doing such a thing, although I doubt if I could keep the news myself if it ever came.

My chief evening diversion is getting to be working crossword puzzles. The medical sergeant got a book from his wife, so me and a Chinese may borrow it and scratch our heads while they play cards. We think we’re getting pretty sharp at it but we ran into a tough one last night. The aid station has lights so we go there.

I’m not sure but I think we’re going to cook up some of our odds and ends of rations tonight. I think we have a can of bacon, some peaches, a little grape juice, and perhaps get a little bread from the kitchen. Quite a treat.

Well, I think I’ll write to Dick before supper then grab a shower and besides I’m out of something to write about, so I’ll call this good.

Love,

3 June 1945

Dear Folks:

Early Sunday morning right now, so I decided to observe it in my own little way and write you a letter – a long one if the material will present itself.

This morning isn’t the customary sunshiny day like most Sunday mornings – but the sky is overcast and the ground like a cow barn in winter. This “midnight soil” the Japs used to fertilize the soil lends a fowl odor to the whole area and smells especially bad in tents. It got to raining so hard that we had to put up a pyramidal tent. We couldn’t bail our holes fast enough. But aside from the rain, the situation has been quiet for me. Apparently most of the Jap artillery has been knocked out for I haven’t heard a shell in a long time. I’m always afraid a Nip will try to sneak in the area but so far they haven’t and now that the campaign is so far along, I feel easier. I hear the boys at the front are going good now and General Hodge says that organized resistance is almost over. I’m sure you can feel easier about us.

Little mail lately but I hope the mailman comes back with an armload this afternoon. They go after mail every day no matter how bad the roads are – some days it’s quite a trip. No packages yet but some of the boys are receiving packages from March so I’m expecting mine soon.

I started out to write quite a letter but I’m about washed up already. Hope to go to church today if the chaplain can get through. I’m feeling fine and just hoping that before another operation, I can get home and Dick too.

Well, I guess this (is) all.

Love,

1 June 1945

Dear Folks:

I haven’t written you for several days so I imagine you feel a little anxious. But the fact is, it has been so rainy and muddy that I couldn’t get myself to sit down to write. I think the worst part of the campaign is over, so you can feel much better. The hardest part has gone by for me, and I think the Japs are standing on their last legs now. For some time now there hasn’t been any shells come over, which is a great relief to me. And after the campaign is over, I think we will have it easy for a while, and get a little beer and movies.

Received a letter from Dad yesterday, about the only (thing) that has come in the past three or four days. Maybe the inclement weather has kept the mail planes down. Over 13” inches (of rain) fell in the past week, so you can imagine how the water must have been flowing around here. Contrary to the weatherman’s prediction that June 1^st would be the climax of the rain, today is sunshiny and sultry. Had a chance to get most of my stuff dried out. I had a lot of pictures in my billfold and they all got soaked. I have them laying in the grass now to dry out a little. But the sky always looks like another storm could break any time. Then they tell us the typhoon season begins around the 15^th. I’ve never been in a typhoon, but if they are like what I’ve seen in shows and read about, I’m not looking forward to them. But we’ll be expecting them and prepare for it.

Haven’t seen Dick or Duane since our visit quite a long time ago. But I know Dick is too far away to see me very conveniently. I don’t know where Duane is, but I’ll locate him after the island is secured. I wrote to Dick a week ago but haven’t heard from him yet. I’m sure he is okeh.

From my standpoint, nothing exciting has happened. Since the nights the Jap landed some troops behind the lines by airplanes, there has not been many planes over. Sometime ago I was standing on a hill looking into the bay when a Jap plane suddenly appeared without warning. Black flak hit all around him but he kept flying straight then dove straight for a ship. I was pulling like hell the gunners would get him before he hit the ship. He kept coming down then he burst into a ball of fire and hit the ocean. I felt like I did when the home team made a touchdown. Then after he hit a shell came whistling over and the six guys standing around my hole all dove into it, me on the bottom, with our heads as low as we could get them. You’d be surprised how fast you can move. But it was the only one and slowly heads began to reappear and then most everybody starts laughing when they think of how fast they got undercover. One night the 1^st sergeant and I were listening to the radio when we heard a whistle. Having no prepared hole immediately available, we both hit a small ditch which wasn’t long enough. My usual speed put me in the ditch first, and he dove on top, laying behind me with his nose in my buttocks, which was humorous when the excitement was over.

Haven’t heard from Wylma for a long time. Could you find out what the score is?

I haven’t had enough to start another page so I’m going to the aid station to work a crossword puzzle.

Love,

27 May 1945

Dear Folks:

This is a trying position to write a letter in – lying on a cot propped on one elbow.

Yesterday had three letters – two from Mom and one from Dad – one of Mom’s had the baccalaureate service in.

Probably you have been reading about the heavy rains here—if you can believe all of it—for it has been raining the last 4 days in torrential proportions. Some of the things that went on during the heaviest part of the rain should be worth a six page letter, but I’m too cramped a position and too low “morally” to do it. The first night it began about 4 in the morning. Feeling I was comparatively well protected, I turned over and went to sleep and woke up later to see the water about an inch from the bottom of my cot. So I got up and in a driving rain, cut a drainage ditch out of the hole. That eased the situation some but everything on the floor was soaked. Finally the rain kept driving down and soon everything I had was wet. And since then have had no opportunity to dry them out. Quite a number of the boys dug holes into the side of a bank, and as the water flowed over the side, the banks finally caved in, covering cots, etc. Kind of humorous in a miserable sort of way. The aid station was under four feet of water and early in the morning they were wading around moving out and trying to find lost equipment. Fortunately our office was comparatively dry, the only one that escaped. The morning after the big rain, I went (to) breakfast and saw a guy sleeping on some ration boxes. He was forced out of his overflowing hole. Remember the last thing you told me to do was not to get my feet wet. Well, tonight they are soaked but luckily my blankets are dry. I could say it looks like it’s clearing up but every time I do, it starts in again. Oh, to be a civilian again.

Last Thursday night was an exciting one. On that night the Japs attempted to bring in airborne troops but at the time I didn’t know it. There was the usual ach-ach-searchlights and I saw three shot down. The main thing I have to worry about is falling ach-ach fragments. I saw one Jap plane fly over and drop five eggs in a neat row.

I guess the road was so muddy the chaplain couldn’t get through. Anyway, there was no Protestant service.

Well, I want to dry out my feet a little and get organized for bed so I better cut short. I don’t have a cold – feel fine but pretty tired of the mud.

Love,

20 May 1945

Dear Folks:

Only time for a few short lines tonight but I know you want to hear. It’s a little after supper now and at four o’clock attended a Protestant service. The crowds get bigger each Sunday – probably these combat conditions account for some of it. Getting a bunch of GI’s to sing without an organ, in tune, is something to hear.

Put in a pretty good day all in all, and feel a little tired tonight.

I guess I better tell you about our showers because I think it is a tribute to GI ingenuity. We have three gasoline drums sitting on (a) bank filled with water and the center drum has a heater in it. Having hot water showers at a time like this is something.

Very little this time but not much to write about.

Love,

11 May 1945

Dear Folks:

What sounded like good news came over the radio this morning, and while I’m putting in time this afternoon, perhaps I can tell you about (it). The War Department announced it had defined the point system for discharge with 85 points necessary to be eligible. Of course everyone has figured them up and mine stands at 91. Although we hear a lot about rotation and discharge it hasn’t made much effect but now I’m hoping that I will at least make it back on rotation or discharge, one or the two. If they are going to discharge 1 1/3 million as they say, it looks like I would have a chance. Anyway the morale has taken quite a boost around here since the announcement of these two plans. Now I’ve got to preserve myself until one of them affects me.

Had a letter from Phil a couple of days ago – he sure is doing the writing. He’ll get along alright once he finds out what the score it. Heard from my friend in Washington today and she is getting married the 5^th of June. Said she had a big party in the club where us used to go once in a while.

No more packages have come in but fourth class seems to drift in everyday so the rest of mine will probably show up one of these days.

I wished I had something to write about. There seems to be just nothing at all. Last night was pretty quiet. I’m feeling very good – I think it is this cool weather. Well I’m forced to quit here but perhaps the next communiqué will be longer.

Love,

10 May 1945

Dear Folks:

Just after dinner I received two letters, one from each of you and now while I can take some time off this afternoon, perhaps I can take time to write a better letter. It’s a hot sun shiny day and now I have my shirt off. But when the sun goes behind a cloud, it cools off quickly. And the past two days have given the ground a good drying, making it much easier to move around.

You didn’t think much of your Nurses Aide picture but I think it’s alright, only it’s not so clear. At first I didn’t think so much of your idea of taking the training but now I feel proud that you are doing it. It makes me feel that you sense the war personally and want to do something about it. And you look young, more like a young girl.

Haven’t seen Dick lately but he is located quite a ways from me and it’s not easy, especially at this time to make connections. However I assure you he is having it easy, and is in little danger, and that is the straight stuff. Last night Jap planes were having a look around but I didn’t bother to take much interest, only when they get too close, or our own flak might fall on us do I get up. Most of the big air battles you read about, I can’t see, for they go on away from the island where our own planes won’t get hit by our ack-ack. The airmen are certainly getting a work out and I think they are doing a great job. I wished you could see and hear the Navy planes dive on Jap positions and let go with their rockets. The rockets make loud swush and explode with great concussion.

Speaking about Dick, I have gathered some plans for the postwar that I think are pretty good, but what I would like to have your opinion on. I haven’t spoken to him about them, but I’m anxious to tell him. As I’ve already told you my partner is acquainted with the fruit growing business and gets some expert advice from his father. Now he says I can buy good fruit land for $150 to $200 an acre, and I figured on getting ten acres. In addition to that we would need a small tractor and some spray equipment, plus cost of the trees. Now if I can raise enough money before the war is over I thought I would put down the capital and put Dick down there to tend it. According to Cliff it will be four years before the crop will begin to produce, but in the meantime he can grow a small bit of truck gardening to make some of the expenses. After five years he says a normal crop will yield from $2,500 to $3,000 in fruit. After the first starter there is little expense, as he says it takes little care to keep the orchard going. And Dick could also work for other people to offset some of the first year’s expense. He claims a good well kept orchard will bring from $12,000 to $15,000 in fifteen years. In the meantime I would take some other job and try to save to buy another little acreage. He is going to buy his dad’s 20 acres and build that up. His dad currently makes from $1,500 to $2,000 dollars on it, but it is less than half planted and doesn’t get the good care that the owner would give it. So I’ll have to see what I’ve got and what Dick’s got and try to work it out. I look at it as sort of an insurance policy – money invested now that will increase many times in a few years. He says that section is prosperous and the bare land is available, and he says his dad has had only one crop failure in 12 years. If perhaps when I got back I would go into your business and could gather some capital then he wants to go into a partnership and open a hardware store in the Rio Grande. We talked it all over, pro and con, for about three hours one night. If I don’t do something like this, I might spend the money normally without anything lasting. Well you ask what questions you may have and tell me what you think about it. I might even go back to school, no I couldn’t hardly do that. Well you talk it over.

I’m glad you think I can write a little and sometimes I feel like you that maybe I should consider it more carefully.

I think if I was in high school I wouldn’t vote for a South Seas theme for a banquet. Magazines and stories make the Pacific seem romantic (and) wonderful, and perhaps it is for a short time, but to me it means hot steaming islands with homely brown people running around. I wished you could have seen Eniwetok. I was there before I went to Saipan. It is a small atoll raising only a few feet from the water’s level. It is almost barren, and the sun beats down unmercifully on the white sand. It is hard to see from a distance, and seems to lie on the water level.

Well it’s getting around four-thirty and at five is chow, so I better plan on getting washed up a bit. After supper I intend to take a bath in the bucket, and put on some clean clothes and hope to get a good sleep tonight.

In the meantime I don’t want you to worry because before you know it I’ll be home, and then all these months will be forgotten and everything will be rosy again.

Love,