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8 February 1945

Dear Folks,

Just unloosened my belt after a good meal and now before beginning a bridge game better write you a while. I’m in the mood and have some news. All day today I tore down the mimeograph machine and of course I had to get good and black as I usually do. I can remember you wondering how I got so dirty. I had parts all over but I got it back together and pretty good job too. After I finished took a dip and then showered. Feel swell now.

Yesterday three packages came—two from you and one from Mrs. D. A. Grove. Your packages were in perfect condition and everything completely intact. The birthday cakes were in very good condition not even smashed. Ate a little of them last nite and they are right in line with your good cooking. They were especially welcome now that the only eats before bed is what you get from home. In the other box was the Absorbine and olives and tuna. All came thru okay. I’m looking forward to some cake and beer tonight after the show. Of course as always when I get a box from home I get sentimental as the devil and catch a tear coming loose. Mrs. Grove sent me a lot of candy and small stuff. I must write her very soon. And today two letters and 4 Free Presses came. One was a Valentine card from you two and one a letter from Dad. The Free Presses were fairly recent—last November. Perhaps all of our second class (mail) will now arrive.

Finally found two bridge players for me and my partner so tonight will have a game. Probably make a lot of boners. A few of the officers play and I hope we can play them sometime.

I was a little surprised to read about what Dad had to say about the Helmicks and if that’s right I hate ‘em too. If he has no feeling for the war effort I would like to personally slug him but hard. I wish to hell he could get over here for a while and see what the hell’s going on. I have no use for anyone who doesn’t know there’s a war going on. Perhaps he should get a look at some young kids lying in a ditch all blown to hell, he’d change his mind. I’m working to a boil—better slow down.

Had a letter from June a few days ago and I’ll bet she’s very lonesome.

One day my hopes go up for rotation and the next time they go down so I’m staying noncommittal. Today took my hopes up again as I understand all over 30 months are being reported. I complete 30 next month, but I can’t imagine me going home. Just too good to be true. There are no furlough quotas.

I guess this is all, better shape up for the show and bridge game. Boy I’m getting to be a terrible writer. Get in too much of a hurry. Thanks again for the boxes and let’s hope next Christmas you won’t have to send any.

Love,

7 February 1945

Dear Folks:

Better drop you a line before going to bed. I know I haven’t written for several days but have been pretty busy. I’ll get back in the swing again. Just came from a show. About half way thru a brisk shower began but that didn’t affect the patrons much.

No Christmas mail nor second class mail has yet arrived and of course I feel like you do about it, however I understand the post office finally has us located and it is on the way, so I’ll give them a little more time before really getting sore.

Am feeling fine and we have good living conditions now. A swim, a show and a beer about make up the entertainment end of things. I can hardly realize I’ve been gone almost four years and I hope something will surely break. Furlough quotas are out so I can just wait.

Had a little letter from B. Emick yesterday – he’s a swell guy and I think a lot of him. We had some real [good] times together.

I really haven’t anything to write [about] and the lights will be out shortly so I better figure on quitting. Perhaps I can do better next time. Sent you $50 yesterday. I can’t think of anything fitting and proper so I’ll just knock off.

Love,

2 February 1945

Dear Dad:

Let’s make this a man-to-man talk only put it on paper. Now that I have a little free time thought I better attempt to catch up a little and maybe write you a letter. Just opened a nice beer and earlier had a swim, and a shower so I feel good. And later will go to the show. Pretty good movies have been coming in lately.

Well my law books have caught up with me and the last two nights have looked into them some, however I believe I better send them home – you can never tell what may happen – and then of course I’m going to be home in 1945 – hm. I hate to send them back but I think it’s the best.

Well no packages have arrived so now I think the Christmas mail must have been sunk – I can’t understand where they can be. I wish more positive action would be taken by the proper authorities. And I surely would like to have some of that popcorn – with our small stove we can always pop it.

The last few days have been rainy ones and on a few occasions a blinding driving rain. I hope it never blows the tents away. It’s a job to keep dry.

For the first time in many months I put on a pair of suntans and I feel like a Sunday School boy. Before it has been fatigues.

Before I started writing you I was talking to a Sgt. in the guerillas and he was telling me of his experiences in fighting the Japs. He seemed fairly intelligent as Filipinos go. Said his brother was shot and hung by the Japs in October 1943. Some interesting tales.

Had a letter from Dick a few days ago and he seems in good spirits. I hope he continues to take it easy.

Well better quit I guess but I’ll write more tomorrow when I will have a little more time. Sent you $50.00 today. Have you received the $40.00 I sent? Are the bonds coming? You’re doing a good job of writing and they mean a lot.

Love,

23 December 1944

Dear Dad:

I thought I’d write you a letter tonight because you’ve been doing such a good job writing me. For the second time since I’ve been in the Philippines, received mail from you – one from Mom and one from Kate. Not too recent but that doesn’t make much difference. I don’t know how good the airmail service is yet so I’m sticking by V-mail which I know will get there fast. Well this afternoon about three, I took a cooling dip in the ocean – a swell place to swim – it’s better than Waikiki Beach. Reread your letters then went to supper. Probably will see a show tonight. Air raids sometimes force the movie to stop but so far we’ve been able to see every one through. Opposite from where I’m sitting, two Filipino women are pounding rice in holes cut into coconut logs. After pounding it they hold the rice in the breeze and let it blow away the chaff. I certainly wish you could spend a day here and see how they live. About all they eat is fish, rice and coconuts. One girl is 21 and has had five children – nothing slow about them. Of course the money here is pesos and centouos which we are paid in. Haven’t been paid yet but I have some pesos. Two pesos equal one buck.

Mom was inquiring about reassignment. Under the rotation plan you are returned and reassigned but on a furlough you return overseas. Both prospects are getting dimmer as I see it and I don’t look forward to either one although I expect to see something happen after Germany is whipped.

Well, I’ll stop here and get ready for the show. Don’t worry for I’m fine.

Love,

21 December 1944

Dear Folks:

The more I write the more I know you will be relieved so here’s a few minutes before bedtime for a short letter. Just returned from a show, a clearing in the coconut trees. The natives were there and as it was a ‘horse opera’ they loudly voiced their approval. All women have babies but they don’t make much noise. Not many good looking ones. They want mattress covers or any kind of clothing to put together a shapeless gown. Every other one is pregnant so perhaps the dresses should be that way. A few of them said the Japs gave them a bad time, but I guess the Nips got some in return. I’m getting lots to eat and some good sleep also, so don’t worry. It seems to be cooler here and a swim occasionally feels good. I can’t seem to sit down and write a long newsy letter but perhaps later. But don’t worry for I’m perfectly okeh and going to stay that way.

Love,

20 December 1944

Dear Folks:

I suppose you have been wondering what has happed to me since you haven’t had any letters for sometime. Things have happened that kept me from writing and which I can’t explain very fully. But I had some excitement and felt a little uncomfortable at times. But anyway I’m alright. Maybe I can get back to writing you more regularly now. Had six letters from you yesterday including the pictures of the house and the Waids. They were so damn good to get. And the letter was read a dozen times. I have received only two packages so far but things seem to be arriving every day. They will be here soon. The weather has turned good lately and it’s a relief from the rain. The Filipino population is around us everywhere and they are quite the business people. They wash clothes for a peso or two and are always bargaining for cigarettes and rations. Lately our movie has been working and of course they stand around and chatter and giggle. They especially titter during love scenes and have their own interpretations of what’s going on. Most of them can talk enough English to understand what you are trying to say. They live in small grass huts with chickens sharing the quarters. And each family has a hollowed out log for a boat. Each afternoon I usually manage a cooling swim in the warm ocean.

Well I know this isn’t adequate but perhaps I can write more often now. I’m fine and feeling swell. Starting to turn yellow from malaria tablets but it’ll wear off. I’ve thought about you often and how wonderful are the ways of peace. See you in ’45 I hope – I bet.

Love,

20 November 1944

Dear Folks:

I’ve let up on my writing this week for no good reason, so I better resolve to do something about it tonight. I’ll pull up a bottle of beer and maybe I can think a little better. Dan Gettman came in just a few minutes ago, bringing with him an armful of Star Heralds that I was anxious to read. I glanced over them briefly but will read them more carefully tomorrow. The latest one is dated September 8 so the news isn’t very current although it’s all interesting. Yesterday four old Free Presses caught up with (the mail) and I’ve still got them stuck under my pillow to read over a few times more before they find their way into the wastebasket. Well getting papers means also that some packages, the first in several months, came, and I received one from you marked Box 1 on the cards. The popcorn was the first I’ve seen since leaving Oahu, and tonight we plan to pop it after the show, if we can mooch a little butter from the kitchen. We have a small one burner stove that we cook on when the kitchen isn’t operating, and I think the pot will be large enough to do the job. And for supper tonight I enjoyed the olives. You know how I love ‘em, and of course I almost made a meal of them. The mess sergeant just came by and said I could get the butter so we’re set. On the humorous side, the can of Vienna sausages has made me the brunt of several jokes. You see Vienna sausages are about as common on the menu as Spam, and served as often. And knowing the jokes connected with Spam you can see what they’ve been saying to me. But then you couldn’t know about that. But that’s alright you know I can still use them. Quite a sizable shipment of boxes came in so everyone is enjoying eats of some kind or another.

Had a letter from Bill E and one from Glen last week and both of them seemed to like the high life they saw in Paris. At least those guys over there are around people that are about like us and not so foreign to them as the Japs. I see a Jap plane is to be displayed at the County Fair-I wished you would have seen all the ones I did, wrecked ones, that is.

Saw the show “Bathing Beauty” last night and if you saw it too you know the howling that must have gone on. I’d like to see more like it-no army or war in it. Two nights ago a military band came over for a concert, but they were a pretty sick crew in my estimation.

I don’t know what I’m going to write about now, not much exciting has happened. Washed out some clothes and other ‘unmentionables’ as the women say, and then after supper went up to hear the news. From the Philippine station, I heard mention of Arthur Veysey, who used to report for the Star Herald now with the AP, I believe. I can imagine how tonight the guys down there are having it and I hope it is ended before long. Noticed in the Star Herald that Shirley Heldt is married, she had weak knees over J. Conklin for a time. Haven’t played much bridge lately, but would like to get going again. Our cards are getting pretty do-eared, but as long as we don’t lose one we’ll be alright. Pinochle seems to be the big game around here but I’m not interested in it very much. You should get two bonds sometime in November for September and October-they have a new deal on now-sent only when we get paid so if they don‘t come for a month you will know I didn’t get paid. Think I’ll get a couple of GI bonds too. Haven’t heard from Dick for some time-I’ll have to get on him and make him write a little. Would certainly like to see him again. About a week ago we started giving classes in shorthand to the clerks, but I don’t think the effort will be successful. It takes too long and requires too much practice. Don’t use mine much anymore but dabble around once in a while. Was reading in the Star Herald about the university courses-sounds good and how I’d like to be in some of it. I’ll bet I wouldn’t do any fooling around this time and I‘d get down to brass tacks. I didn’t loaf while I was there but I’d get more done the next time. The last few days have been corkers-rained all the time-got everything damp and put mud all over. Aired out a few things today so they won’t mold.

I guess this is the last act-can’t dig up anything more so guess I’ll have to quit. Think I’ve put on a pound or two lately and feel fine. Keep the home fires burning and in church every Sunday when they pray, you add ‘and I hope he gets a furlough’. Thank you so much for the box, and I hope the next ones won’t be far off.

Love,

9 November 1944

Dear Folks:

Just about enough time to write you an abbreviated epistle before another day closes. Just came from the show – this time it was ‘Deanna Durbin’ and last night it was the ‘Song of Russia’. Both were darned good but colored up to suit the watching public of course. So few stories are written as they truly are, but if they were held strictly to actuality they wouldn’t be liked, and authors couldn’t make a living. How did I start on that?

Had a letter from you last night, which will be read over a dozen times before it’s finally laid aside, as all of yours are. Some questions about Dick in it and I’ll tell you what I can. He isn’t in either of the regiments you mentioned, but is in the cavalry reconnaissance troop. Although he isn’t in the infantry he works with them and is usually where ever they are. He is in an infantry division, but such a division isn’t all infantry but is made up of several branches, although everything is in support of the infantry. The story you read about the 100 Yanks being trapped on the beach must have included Dick because he told me about it, and told of being picked up by the amtracs. He was sent in to help bring out the wounded when the Japs cracked the 105^th and it was then that he got caught. He said he picked up one wounded guy and started to carry him away but the Japs charged them and he had to leave him. And Dick told me a lot of stories like these although he probably would not mention them very much to anyone else. I know our outfit was never mentioned in the papers and some of (us) felt a little burned when everything you read said the 27^th was the only army in the operation. I’ll explain it at some future date.

I seem to be feeling much better than I have in some time—must be getting used to it. We usually have the afternoons off and during that time play baseball. The bulldozers scraped two cane fields down, and after harrowing it and putting a little corral around, they make nice fields. And every week a band is brought in to furnish some music that isn’t canned. The music isn’t always the best but the guys cheer anyone who can give them a little entertainment. What I miss a lot is something ice cold–we get a little beer, and to cool it we put it in a wet gunnysack and let the breeze flow thru it, but the result isn’t too good.

Well this is about all I guess, better knock off and hope the Japs won’t come over and ruin my sleep.

Love,

5 November 1944

Dear Folks:

I guess it’s high time I tortured this typewriter again and see if I can’t take care of a few current unanswered letters. Just finished off another Sunday, an easy loafing one although a ball game this morning took a little of the vinegar out of me, and this afternoon I had no trouble sleeping. I play shortstop on the team but my prowess is doubtful.

Well last night after the show two communiques from your front were here–one with the drawing of the house layout. Even though you’re no civil engineer Dad it was plenty okeh and I looked at it a long time before I had to go to bed because I couldn’t stay awake any longer. Of course I have the whole thing figured out in my mind and I’m sure it’s fully as nice as I think it is, and you don’t know how much I’d like to make an inspection.

Hey you people when you see any clippings about me or any of the others, cut it out and put it in the envelope. We haven’t received any 2^nd class mail in two months and if I have to wait for the papers I may never receive it. So the next letter be sure and get those articles you mentioned and send them. I’m pretty anxious to see them. I don’t know how many Free Presses must be on the way but I know the number is pretty high.

Perhaps the biggest thing since D-Day happened today. We all had the long delayed pleasure of sinking our fangs into some fresh meat. Good old steak, and besides this there was the rest to go with it, so my outlook improved considerably today. After this I reposed in customary Sunday style on the bunk, read a while then slept until about four. The Army should have more days like that.

Those much discussed but elusive furloughs were again given out a few days back, but its wait some more for me. We had the drawings at the theatre, walking by a can and grabbing a slip, and the one I pulled out was the blankest looking slip of paper I ever saw. I felt a little tense like the fellows you wrote about, and when it was over felt let down and a little defeated, but there’ll be another day (I hope). To be eligible you must have two year’s overseas service, so Dick won’t be eligible until about next May or June, I believe. If it is possible to get a quota every month perhaps my time won’t be far off, although getting the quota may be problematical.

Another high spot in last week’s seven days was the first payday in six months, and of course everyone is loaded with dough. I arranged a sort of Christmas present for you and I hope I can send it in my next letter. Working in personnel I’m glad to see everyone paid off as it means less paper work and liquidates a lot of little things to accumulate.

Also received a letter from Nancy last night and she sounds like she’s growing up. I’ll be plenty surprised when I have my first look at Philip and her because probably I don’t realize how much they’ve actually changed.

I think I better take off for the cinema–our shows start at six so I have to hurry to write you. I really enjoy your letters Dad. You put all the stuff in that interests me more than you think, and your style doesn’t make any difference. I wish I could tell you all I know because of course every GI has his ideas about what will happen next but I can’t say anything about that. Probably you have read about the little excitement we had the other night. Well I’ve really gotta stop and I’ll be around again soon.

Love,

25 October 1944

Dear Folks:

I have wanted to write you all day and I hope this letter gets to you with all possible speed. I’m afraid my last two epistles didn’t sound too cheerful, and you may have thought I was quite the old grouch, and probably you felt a little bad about them, so I want to make amends for them and try to make you believe I didn’t mean all of it. I received two letters from you last night and they were such good ones that I felt like a two bit heel. So please attribute them to the mood I was in and not any kind of a criticism of you. I know how you feel and how you must worry and I shouldn’t do anything to make it worse for you, so accept my apologies, and believe me when I say I didn’t mean them.

Well today was sort of a red letter one. No, not furloughs or a big stack of mail or anything like that, just some fresh meat. A couple of ex-cowhands took a jeep and shot a young cow from one of the herds that run around here. They slaughtered it and got it ready and the cooks did a good job of turning out a real supper tonight – really hit the spot. If the spuds hadn’t been dehydrated it would have been perfect.

Saw the movie ‘Mr. Skeffington’ tonight and I thought it was superb. One of the best I have seen in a long time. No war or flag waving exhibitions, just a good peacetime cinema. I thought it was great and the moral behind it was very good. Bette Davis is tops in my book.

In Dad’s letter last night he said the souvenirs had arrived OK. Was the box broken up and was everything there? There are so many regulations connected with the mailing of souvenirs that I wondered if anything had happened to them. And don’t forget to mail me the clipping that Si Parker had about them.

And another bright spot on the calendar this week. For the first time since last May I had a coke. Yep, we were issued ten of them – I don’t know how long they will last – but I look on each one as a precious treasure and hate to drink one. Even though we can’t cool them very well they still taste pretty good. The beer situation is getting better and I think I have about six or seven cans left. Usually drink one every night just before the show.

Gee mom it sounds like you were pretty worried about me when I had the fever, but really it wasn’t as bad as I believe you imagined. It’s all over now and I feel fine again. As a matter of fact I feel better than I have for some time.

I can just visualize how much trouble you went to, to get Dick’s and my boxes ready and you don’t know how good it makes me feel to know that – well that’s just the kind of parents they are and whatever they would do for us they wouldn’t think it would be enough. As each month goes by I wake up a little more to the fact that you are both the best in the world, and then those inconsiderate things I used to do and the worries I caused for you come in my thoughts, and I wonder if I can ever show you all the respect and love you both deserve.

We haven’t received any second class mail in weeks so of course that means I don’t get the Free Press, so you be sure and throw in all those clippings – even the little ones about anybody I used to know. I suppose soon the mail will come rushing in like a broken dam and I’ll be reading for weeks to catch up. Of course the first class is coming regularly and in fine time. I’ll bet you’re really busy taking care of Dick’s and my letters, and I’ll bet you never wrote so much in your life – even love letters.

Shirley Carroll’s dilemma is indeed a sorry one, but it seems to be following a typical Carroll pattern. If it hadn’t have been this, it would have been something else. Perhaps she should have been more careful, although I do feel sorry for her and thought she would make out better than most of them.

The little mention of the fiddle is something I often think about, and I get a deep urge to play it again. Your ears must have been very sympathetic when I picked it up. And my gas models often put a curb in my daydreams. I’ve thought that after the war I would start in again as a hobby, and have a little more to do with (it).

Well the lights around the area are going out one by one and I seem to be one of the few left so maybe I better be thinking about hitting the hay. But be sure and pick out all the nice things in those sour letters and forget the bad ones. I guess we all get (into) moods and I don’t know what made me that way.

Love,