Nancy Moss Archives - Moss Letters

6 September 1945

Dear Folks:

For the first time in over three years I can write you an uncensored letter. Censorship was called off today. I imagine the mailbox will be overflowing tonight. In a day or two I’m leaving the outfit and going to the personnel center to await transportation to the States. I don’t know, but it shouldn’t be long. I hope to get back around the 5^th of October but you realize I could be ten days off either way. That’s the way it looks now. If Nancy was excited about going to Denver you can imagine how I feel. You must be getting bored at hearing me say that.

Dick was located at the far north end of the island and that’s where I visited him. He flew to Tokyo and was to land at Atsurge Airfield. He was looking forward to it, but wants to get home as bad as I do.

Our camp is a half mile from the southern tip of the island, south of Naha.

Had a letter from Phil and Nancy today. I’m afraid Phil will be in for more than six months – it depends on how they decide this duration business. I hope they don’t stop the draft or cut the points way down for overseas service or else guys like Dick already overseas will be over quite a long time. It kinds of burns us up to see how the guys in the States get the breaks. But I hope to be one of them before long.

Well so much for this time – saw a show ‘Roughly Speaking’ last night. I could see so many things that were typical of our family. Better see it.

Don’t write any more. If things change any, I’ll let you know.

Love,

3 September 1945

Dear Folks:

Had a letter from Mom today telling me about your Denver visit. Quite a bit different than when we went as a whole family and had the car loaded down with everything. I sure hope you had a good time. I know Dan Gettman had been sent to the hospital and was later evacuated but I didn’t know he was at Fitzsimmons. He got deaf from the guns. I wished you could have met him – he would have told you a lot about Okinawa and how I was. He used to take a leg off me, but I usually liked to listen.

I’ll bet the corn and watermelon are ripe at home. A National Geographic magazine found its way into our tent and it had an article about Nebraska with pictures of Scottsbluff and the Valley. It really got my interest.

It looks like I will be on my way [home] very soon although I can’t say for sure just when. These last days seem very long. How I would like to fly back, but I suppose it will be by boat.

I suppose Phil is on the high seas somewhere and I can imagine Carol is anxious but she shouldn’t be worried. One of the guys in my tent had a wedding anniversary a few days ago. Married six years and been home only two years to celebrate them. We drank a beer to commemorate it. Glad to hear Nancy was going to Denver. Yes, I can hear all the giggling that must have went on.

Bill E. told me in a letter of his [illegible] when he was overseas that someday he was going to marry Helen Wood – so I guess he will. Starting from scratch I think I better snatch a young co-ed at Lincoln.

And don’t bother with any Christmas boxes. I hope to eat apples on Halloween night with you or see the sugar mills begin their fall run.

When I get back I don’t want to see many people, just stick around the house and be a lazy bum. But I probably won’t for long. You don’t know the wonderful change it will be.

Of course the Japanese radio sounds much different than it did before. Begging the people to be fixing and build for a greater Japan. I could go to Japan if I wanted to but I just couldn’t do anything to keep me away from home any longer.

My last couple of letters probably sounded like I was a little peeved but it’s because everyday seems so long until I get started back. Don’t forget if you don’t hear from me for a week don’t write any longer. Also advise Reader’s Digest of my old and civilian address.

Love,

27 July 1945

Dear Folks:

Not much on tap for tonight so maybe I better write a few letters. Just finished a letter to Dick and I’m going to see if he can make arrangements to visit me for a few days. We are in a permanent area and have a pretty decent setup now.

Had a late issue Free Press today – very recent and a letter from Phil and Nancy yesterday. Phil is turning out different than I thought he would. Wished I would get back in time to see him.

Very little to write about. There is nothing new on getting back. It is just a matter of waiting.

Went to teeth inspection today and it looks like I may have some work done [soon]. The doc pulled a tooth last October and I think it’s getting bad under the filling.

Well I’m out of news so I guess I’m bound to close.

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,

11 June 1945

Dear folks:

My writing has been delayed considerably because of a succession of events that made writing difficult. And I know you’ve been anxious too.

I’ve been bouncing over the roads today and I feel pretty tired and let down tonight but not so I can’t write you. On my travels today I saw Shuri and Noha including Shuri castle or what is left of it. You know the struggle it has been to take those places. I couldn’t describe to you the desolation and wreckage. Hardly a structure stands and everywhere there is rubble of stone and wood. Only a long two-story brick building remains to what was a city of 65,000-Noha. Bulldozers nudge around through the debris clearing roads and cleaning up, and preparing areas to live in. Shuri is equally wrecked. Shuri sits in a valley surrounded by hills and ridges that shelter catacombs of interlocking caves and emplacements. Every ridge is specked with these holes. From a high view the fields are potted with circular shell holes and occasionally a huge crater of a bomb or a large naval shell. And I saw our burned out tanks, many of them, stopped in a low place where the Japs probably used their suicide tactics of planting satchel charges on the tanks and blowing themselves up. Shuri castle has a few remaining pillars still standing. They immediately remind one of the Greek ruins. Now the Japs have been pushed into a very small pocket and there they will probably repeat their banzai charge and the remainder dive into the sea as they did on Saipan. It seems that the Japanese are entirely alien to what we believe about life and the standards we live by.

Yesterday I had a look at four freshly killed Japs who were killed in their cave. They had thrown a grenade at one of our men from their hole about half way up a steep bank. After we sneaked up and threw grenades and plenty of ammunition at them, someone looked in and they had died for the emperor. One had apparently held a grenade to his chest at the last minute for his chest was blown open and his face gone. In peacetime our government will spend thousands of dollars to find the murderer of one man but here a life seems worth little.

After coming in tonight I found I had four letters, two each from Mom and Dad—one from June. They certainly were appreciated and I’ve already gone over them many times. And I’ll read them many more. Now I’m the one who isn’t keeping up, but pretty soon I should be on a regular schedule. Yesterday had two Free Press dated back in February. I’m looking forward to the recent ones you kept.

Haven’t seen Dick or Duane yet but I think it won’t be too long. Probably the island will be secured soon and then it will be easier to get around. I would like to have Dick come over and stay a few days with me if it is possible.

I can’t say much about the demobilization deal except what I read and hear. I have more than 85 points and weighing everything I feel more optimistic than pessimistic about getting home in the next few months—although I have nothing to go on. Maybe it’s like a women’s 6^th sense. But if something doesn’t materialize I will lose faith in everything. I can hardly imagine being home again. A rumor today said those over 85 will see no more combat, but as I say it’s just a rumor.

Bob Meyers and Guyla Steele now—golly I can hardly picture it and Guyla a Russian. I don’t like that. Glad to hear Jim S. is getting married but sorry to hear his folks are leaving. I thought perhaps Phil and Carol would get married on his leave and was slightly surprised to hear they didn’t. Phil sent me a picture of her. She looks pretty sweet.

On the fruit orchard deal it would be mostly oranges and grapefruit and for the first couple of years a small truck garden to alleviate expenses. Our area is in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas. I thought I would put some money into it and let Dick run the place and build up a first class orchard and do everything to produce a good orchard. To make expenses until the crop begins to produce Dick would raise a small truck garden and with the equipment I would buy, he could make money helping others spray etc. And I would come back and get the best job I could and make up some of the first year’s expenses. If I get home soon I’m going to look into it but of course I’m not going all out on it until I can find out a little more. I am anxious to talk to Dick about. I think he will like it. I know my buddy would not let me down, he’s square and honest as the day is long. He is a great guy. He is anxious to help me and he wants later to expand and then go together on a business of hardware there. We had great fun going all over it one night in a foxhole. And I know Dad would fall over backward to advise me. I’m very anxious to see the picture of the store. Nancy and Mom and Phil all write about what an institution it is getting to be.

I’m glad you had a nice birthday and I wished I could have sent you something. (The Noha department store is very short on items). I know Dick and I and Phil will all be home soon to give you an inexpensive but most wanted gift—a big kiss.

And Mom I wouldn’t want you to go out west. Stay where you are and keep home what it has always been and always will be. Many people may soon regret having done that.

And I too want Nancy to go to school and for my choice, Nebraska University. And to have every advantage of graduating. I wanted to graduate in the worst kind of way and feel very badly sometimes because I didn’t. If I were still in school and took law, I would almost be out. I hate to think I will never get a degree. My days there were filled with association and acquaintance with learning, that are long remembered. I surely want Nancy to go and have all she needs to enjoy it.

I’m sure you finally got straightened out on my outfit and I have never been able to tell you. I’m feeling fine but I think I must feel like Dad sometimes—ready to blowup and sometimes I feel nervous as hell. I just hope I can soon see you. Minor differences will seem like nothing after this.

Well it’s beginning to get a little late (9 o’clock) and today may be another heavy one. But I’ll try to write often. You can now feel much reassured for it is almost over on this island and then we can have it easier.

Better stop sometimes although I feel like writing on and on if I could dig up the items.

Love,

28 April 1945

Dear Folks:

Here I am again as is usual at this time of evening. About the only diversion after chow is listening to the radio and that doesn’t always appeal, and listening to the tales from Tokyo gets irritating. This morning while gathering the news, for interest I turned on Shanghai and listened for a few minutes to a commentary on military affairs. Of course Shanghai is Jap controlled. This morning he discussed the members of the Special Attack Corps or what we call suicide divers. They harp on this Corps quite a lot. American naval and casualty losses that he gave sound like evangelistic exaggerations. Many remarks they make seem the work of a simple minded child.

I see by the bulletin board that censorship regulations here permitted more leniency in writing so I thought I would tell you about some personal experiences I’ve had. Last night started out quietly although the air raid siren sounded about sundown. After hearing a few artillery shells crunch some distance away, I managed to get asleep but woke up with a start around ten thirty by the thunder of anti-aircraft guns. Then I heard a plane swoop over pretty low so I sat up and peeked over the top of our foxhole. As I usually do I woke up my buddy. It seems better to have company at such times, although perhaps I sometimes get over excited. Whenever a Jap plane gets anywhere near, the sky fills up with red tracers and little dots of bursting shells. When I first woke up I saw a great burst of fire but I couldn’t tell just what it was. In most cases the planes don’t come too close to our position so it’s more of a sideshow for us. A round of applause always goes up when a Jap plane is hit – most of them burst into a ball of flames and crash. Finally the excitement died down and while trying to get to sleep again, the shrill shreik of a Jap shell whistled over and drove into the mud. It was a dud, thank goodness. The sound of shells heading your way, and the later bursting crunch so hard on my nerves and I think everyone feels that way. When a shell sounds it takes about 1/10 of a second for everyone to jump in a hole. But we found the Japs many times harder and it is a mystery to me that all Japs in the island are not raving maniacs. The bombardment on L-Day was the biggest and most devastating thing I ever saw. It is source of great confidence in our forces to see battleships, cruisers and destroyers lined up pounding the Japs where it hurts the most. The sky was filled with our aircraft and the Nips dared not come near. About the only time they can pull a raid is at night. I came ashore on L plus one and we were all surprised by the orderly cultivation and rolling green hills, by far more like our own, a civilized place than what we had previously seen. I think this [is] enough on this subject.

I told you before that I had been on Leyte but I didn’t’ tell you I was on Midway also.

Had two letters today – one from each of you, but not very recent. In Mom’s letter was many clippings and the pictures of Nancy and Phil. It seems to me that Nancy looks an image of Mom, and so grown-up I could hardly believe it.

I’m glad Jack paid you a visit and I hope it made you feel better. I also think he has changed for the better and Jack seemed very considerate during our visits on Saipan and Tinian.

Boy it seems like lots of babies are being born back there, Alice C. again and J. Lupher. How many does that make [of] Luphers? I wish I had some of my own and every time you write about fixing up the place, I try to hope that someday I’ll be fixing mine the same way. Dad made a lot of good comments about home and so forth and in every one of his letters, I think we get a little closer to each other.

The talk with everyone now is rotation – those planes are turning up again and I think most of the older fellows are expecting to get back in a few months. And somehow I feel the same way. Even the thought of getting home seems like a dream.

Better taper off I guess – I’m feeling fine and living careful, so don’t worry.

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,

20 September 1944

Dear Folks:

Started out to see a show tonight at the Seabee camp but after getting there found there was no show there. I’m back in camp again ready to spend a monotonous evening. I’ll try to write one [letter] in longhand tonight although my writing is getting steadily worse. Don’t know where to begin – not much has happened. Got into a bridge game last night with some real competition but we finally came out on top. Haven’t been a low man for sometime now. We had several fine howls and missed a small slam three times.

Some of the civilians have been released on [faded] you can see a few of them walking with packs on their backs or driving two-wheel carts carrying whatever they can find to begin building again. Of course they are under restriction and can only move in certain areas. I still hate the looks of all of them – they look too sour and mysterious to me. Yesterday I saw four men and a woman walking along the road. The woman was carrying a load that I don’t think I could carry and the men paid no attention to her difficulty. I guess Japanese women are handy gadgets instead of human beings.

In order to find something to write about I’ll take a couple of Dad’s letters and see what I can comment about. In the first place we’ve got our house pretty well waterproofed now, although an especially drenching rain may cause a little leak. It rains almost every day without fail and sometimes a rain comes out of a clear sky in five or ten minutes. We catch the rainwater in buckets and use it to wash clothes with and occasionally take a bath in.

I’d like to see Nancy as a cheerleader and I’ll bet she makes a good one. I suppose Phil plays his heart out in football and will probably get banged up plenty before the season is over. [illegible next sentence]

Every time you write about Gramp’s melons I drip at the mouth and my head begins to swim. Boy, how good an ice cold watermelon would taste – I would eat a 100 lb. one myself.

I’m always wondering what the house looks like now and don’t forget the pictures if you can possibly get them. And it does my heart good to know that you are now able to fix it up as you have always wanted to fix a home up.

Am getting around to Christmas again. I think a fruit cake is a darn good idea. And here’s another, I can use a pen and pencil set. I still have the one you sent me about two years ago but I have good [faded] one in the office – and can you put my name on it?

For some reason tonight I was thinking back to my younger days of mine when things were a little tougher for us and Dad tried to explain to me just why they were that way and I couldn’t quite see it. Now I hope all that has changed and you can both carry out some of the yearned for plans you must have had. And you know whatever I have can be used by you.

Well [faded] says it’s time to think of bed and I feel like a good sleep tonight so better slip this in an envelope and get it on its way.

Love,

16 September 1944

Dearest Folks:

Yesterday was a banner day (as my banner days go). During the morning I had been a way from camp doing a little firing and when I returned about eleven Jack came busting in like a Kansas cyclone. Now the situation was reversed, I had been going over to see him and here he was chatting with me in my boudoir. He had gone to Aslito airfield on Saipan on his day off and while there decided to pay me a visit. He went to operations and found that in order to get over (here) he needed a signed certificate to the effect that he was officially off duty, and having only a few minutes he got such a slip from an engineer captain and so just made the plane over. Said he was a little outranked on the plane – opposite him was a colonel and two lieutenant colonels. After a long trip of four minutes he landed at Tinian and immediately started to find my outfit. First he hooked a ride with (a) navy chief who took him in a general direction. Next he was picked up by a Seabee and finally after a half dozen lifts, he found me. You usually wander around in fifty different directions trying to find an outfit. Jack came over on some picture business and brought a little New York photographer with a camera the size of a typewriter case. The major was good enough to let us use his jeep and so from noon until five we traveled the length and breadth of the island and I pointed out to Jack and Jake the interesting points. They were happy to have a look around and we were especially lucky to get a car to do it in. They ran around getting the choice shots and while they were doing it I wondered how by the fortunes of luck and war Jack and I were nosing through the debris of Tinian, much as we had knocked around together back home. Every now and then when we would ride along or do something we could liken to a similar situation back in Nebraska. Jack was wearing a shoulder holster and dark glasses and looked like a swashbuckling commando general. We went in some rough places and the jeep nearly threw us all out more than once. Jack had been stuck pretty close to camp since being on Saipan and it was a treat for him to get out and see something. All in all it was a good sightseeing tour and I’m sure Jack and Jake enjoyed it. I hope to get over to Saipan once before I leave although it’s hard to lay plans much in advance.

Aside from this break in the routine tonight was another beer issue day and another three cans is waiting to be opened. Cooling it is a problem and I don’t go for it lukewarm.

Yesterday received a notice from Reader’s Digest about a postwar deal so returned the card. Also had a letter from Nancy. She must be quite grown up by the tone of her letters and probably I’ll be plenty surprised at the change when I get home. I can well imagine the changes that have taken place in three years but even at that I’ll have to treat them different when I get back.

In case you had forgotten this month is my third anniversary – I mean in the army. The 18^th will end up three years and a five percent increase in wages. I must be getting to be what they call a veteran – although I can’t see myself one of those things. I hope I won’t put in another hitch before I see home again.

Well I don’t know much else there is to write about. I surely enjoy your letters too especially those l-o-n-g ones. Probably when we are home again you will swear never to write another, and I’ll bet that gets to be as much a problem as the washing used to (be). My correspondents are very few and aside from you I don’t do much writing, although as the war nears the end I better start looking for a spouse. I keep thinking how lazy and ner-do-well I’m going to be for a few months after the war – and how sweet and heavenly it will be to stretch out in a full bed and when the sun comes up pull the covers up a little higher and sleep a couple more hours – or feel the heavy blanket when it’s still and frosty and freezing outside – or a hundred other little things that I think of from time to time.

So I guess I’ll know(?) off tonight and maybe open up a can before bed time.

Love,