Packages from home Archives - Page 5 of 8

12 January 1943

Dear Folks:

It’s high time I got around to writing you again. Been several days now. Time seems to slip by faster than I can keep up with it. Was on pass today and saw a couple of things in a store that I thought you might like so they are on the way. I mailed them from a store so let me know if you get them. Quite a while back I sent Dan a knife among some things for you. Did you get it? You never said but I suppose you have.

Here I am at the end of the first paragraph and I’m stymied already. Had a letter from Katie today and it was full of pep and life. Said she mailed me a picture of her and Tom but I haven’t gotten it yet but it takes quite a while I guess. The gal in Washington is very faithful in writing. Had a picture from her yesterday. I sure miss the midnight turkey we used to have. Sunday afternoon took in the civilian dance and had some fun and arranged for some in the future. Just a few minutes ago came back from the show. Having movies every night helps a lot. I was going to put in another request for something but I see that packages from the mainland have been curtailed except on request from an officer. Lately I’ve been reading some law books and have read all in the library in town and can’t get anymore that I want. That’s why there has been fewer letters. I get to reading and forget to write. Saw “This Above All” last night but didn’t go for the film version as much as the book. The ending especially seemed to dampen its dramatic punch.

I hate to nip this off in this stage but I can’t do very much about it. It’s hard as heck to write a letter. I’m really feeling fine and getting a lot of good grub and developing a stenographer’s spread working in the office. Tomorrow night means the weekly battery get together in the rec hall. They are quite a bit of fun and everyone that comes seems to have a good time. I’ve almost forgotten what winter is like although it gets pretty cool in the evenings and early morning. I’ll stick myself with a pin where it will do the most good and write more often.

I want to get back to all of you as soon as possible and when I do I won’t take anything for granted as I did before.

Love,

7 January 1943

Dear Folks:

Now that I have my other letters finished I am ready to write to you and get this summary together. Just finished a letter to Dick. With so many away from home now you will almost have to hire a secretary to keep up on correspondence. I feel pretty buoyant tonight all the cause of several things. But the most important was the President’s speech and Halsey’s reiteration of an end in ’43. The speech had a good tone to it and very different from the stalling ones in the past. There should be some momentous undertakings in the next few months. Secondly I went swimming this afternoon, incidentally I believe I had some good shots in the pool and they’ll be yours when they are finished. You should have the others I sent by now.

Yesterday your package with the pipe, pouch and tobacco came and all three are just the thing. If I would say thanks that wouldn’t be near enough. Last night under the auspices of the ‘skypilots’ (chaplains) we had a community sing and general get together. It was a good deal and everyone from the cream to the damp spot in the bottom had a lot of fun. There is a lot of talent in the outfit and the Jewish chaplain is quite a guy. I bought a photograph album the other day and when I finished mounting the pictures I found I had many more than I thought. Quite a collection.

The stationery I had in mind was the airmail envelope and sheet outfit. I haven’t used very much of the V-mail yet.

I hear there is a rubber plantation on the island so one of the first things I want to do next pass day is get a squint at a rubber tree just to say I saw one. I wished you could see what I saw today—the ocean and the landscape, etc. I think it’s really beautiful but maybe I’m just a sentimentalist. I can’t hardly imagine freezing weather. It’s been so long since I’ve endured any of it.

I’m afraid this will have to suffice for tonight. For some reason the day we are all waiting for seems close even though perhaps it isn’t. I have it all planned out.

Love,

19 December 1942

Dear Folks:

It’s time I was writing you again and this is a better time than any. But first your birthday card that came yesterday. I got kind of dewy around the eyeballs when I read it. And the money order was there and it will make my birthday merrier. Thank you so much.

Well tomorrow is the day that we celebrate our Christmas on. It is a fiesta natively called a “luau” or approximately that. The chickens and a pig are cooked on hot rocks in an open pit. And all the eating is done with fingers. I’m looking forward to it—it sounds good. I have my camera loaded so I’ll get some pictures.

Yesterday it seems a little funny then, a sergeant and myself were shopping for Christmas decorations for our mess hall tree. With pure masculine tendencies we bought anything that we thought would be appropriate and ended up with everything from snow for the bottom to a star for the top. The mess hall is being decorated with Christmas posters and cards. A few nights back the Chaplain came over with a little wheezy one lung organ and we took part in a little community singing. A couple of Christmas carols took us back five years or so. The canteen also shows Christmas with some very good posters by the battery artist. By the way, the PX is officially titled “Myrtle’s Mansion”.

While I was relaxing one night about a week ago thought it might be profitable to read something of a professional nature so went to the library and drew a couple of law books and one on economics. One half of them are read and I hope to get time to get through them all.

Recently an outfit installed an outdoor theater of a sort and tonight the first film is being run. This will do a lot to dissolve restlessness in the evenings.

I believe this will suffice for tonight so must leave something for tomorrow. I’ll give you an account of the “luau”.

I’ll be with you Christmas although not in the house.

Love,

16 December 1942

Dear Folks:

I really owe you some apologies for not writing for the past five days and I don’t know why I didn’t either. Your letter with the flower came yesterday and the flower was in good shape and preserved well. Also the clippings of the marriage and the shower. I can imagine what probably happened on the big day. Christmas is scarcely a week away it hardly seems possible. And another birthday too. Time certainly is fleeting. I believe the big attraction of our holiday will be an Hawaiian festival which is a roasting of chickens and pigs in a ground oven. And I understand a native will be the chef. Maybe he can cook the army out of them.

I’m glad to hear that Dick is in the Air Corps. It is the best place for him I believe. It makes me feel a little funny to have him in, but the feelings aren’t primary I guess.

Today the paper came out so here’s a copy for you to keep for me for some future reference. I don’t have the piece of wedding cake yet. The cable must have made good time to get to you the day after Thanksgiving. That reminds me of the one you sent to me in (Camp) Stoneman.

I think the three page deal last nite will compensate for the ‘shortie’ tonight. I would sure like some more stationery like that—you sent in the boxes. One box is still on the way.

And I always think of you too—

Love,

9 December 1942

Dear Folks:

I’ve been looking forward to taking it easy this evening and writing you so here goes. Haven’t received a letter from you for four days now but they’ll be here soon. The Thanksgiving box came in excellent condition.

I have a pass coming up Saturday but that wouldn’t be unusual if I didn’t have a date. She’s darn good looking so I’ll probably last only one round.

There certainly isn’t much to write about, everything is routine or else it is restricted. I’m enclosing another issue of the paper. My contribution is on page two. Maybe I should have it sent to you.

Had a letter from Jack Lewellen today. I’m not busting to answer it but guess I’d better do it soon.

I have another batch of pictures at the photographers so I’ll be sending some soon. Have been getting the Free Presses, but don’t have any magazines yet.

I think if you look on the paper you can catch more of a glimpse of Army life here than what I could say about. Boy I can’t write worth a darn tonight.

I can’t wait until Katie’s pictures get here. I know they’ll be good.

I really can’t get together much of a letter tonight but at least I wanted to write you and send the paper.

Love,

Will you send me another box or two like the stationery you sent?

7 December 1942

Dearest Folks:

I’ve let you go for three days now, about the longest yet, so I better redeem myself.

Yesterday I got the Thanksgiving box and it was swell. And in the book I found the pictures and the wedding invitation. I’ve been looking at them both about every fifteen minutes—there’s nothing like pictures. And the stationary was just the thing. Then today got a carton of cigarettes from Pat making a total of eleven boxes received. I’m certainly not being neglected. Three days ago I mailed you two boxes, small ones, and a coconut. I’m afraid you might not know what it would be so thought I better tell you. They sell them in the PX and it’s kind of a novelty. Many of the guys paint hula girls and Hawaiian scenes on them.

Well today was the anniversary of the war and the day that shattered my hopes of getting out in a year. Here on the island, as everywhere I suppose, a bond campaign is underway with soldiers and sailors doing the selling. A booth has been set up in the square. I hear the islands doubled their quota. My bonds should be reaching you by now and after December should have, or will have $87.50 worth and $105.00 in allotments. About the most I ever had in a lump sum.

On the island the weather is very good but when the wind begins to blow from the south, it’s a warning that a rainstorm or a cona, as they call it, is ahead. Then it really rains, but with all the rain we had in Nebraska I still like it.

Tonight is a typical night except that we have an unusual duet for entertainment. A guy got a piccolo sized instrument from his wife and another has a beat up Hawaiian guitar—they’re trying to collaborate on “Old Black Joe’. Occasionally they attempt to sing and they aren’t too terrible—now it’s ‘Daisy’.

I took some pictures yesterday of my ball team and some other and I’ll send you them when they are developed. And our team won for (a) change too.

Well this is enough for tonight—let’s hope the war doesn’t have more than one anniversary.

All of you sure seem close to me tonight.

Love,

3 December 1942

Dear Folks:

I’m quite a ways behind in my letters—got a hot full two days ago after the dam broke so I’ll probably be here all night answering them. And today received a telegram from Katie and Tom, sent from Torrington. Hope she has mine by now. I wish I could tell you something that has been happening lately but that will have to be storytelling later. Anyway I was able to sleep half the day, then take a swim in a reservoir. But I still feel like I’d run a marathon foot race. Two nights ago missed a letter to you for writing the news for the paper. The issue today was the sixth. Wished I could get more space. Then last Sunday spent the afternoon watching our ball team get beat again.

With mild weather prevailing here, it’s hard to imagine all of you shivering under overcoats. The flowers continue to bloom and skies to stay blue. It’s much warmer than last winter in Escondido but cool enough to sleep nights.

So far I’ve received three packages from you so I probably have the Thanksgiving box. I mailed two to you today. They weren’t insured and I hope they don’t get broke. I’m going to send some shorts for the kids soon. I know its winter there but they are so distinctive want to buy a couple pairs. And have you received the ones sent about a month ago?

Suppose Gram and Gramp are back on Coronado by this time. Bet you all had a swell time together. And Katie and Tom are deep in the throes of married ecstasy.

Haven’t got the Reader’s Digest yet—hope they start coming soon.

I guess this about covers everything this time. Yes, it would be swell if we could annilate a turkey together next Thanksgiving. Perhaps—who knows?

Goodnight another time.

Love,

23 November 1942

Dear Folks:

Again at my nocturnal duty of writing you but afraid it won’t be bulging with much news. Again today received another package and from Wylma—some cigarettes and high tone, sweet smelling soap in her very practical vein. Is she fanning a dying ash or did I ask for it when I wrote her? Suppose by the time you get this, the tribe will be recuperating from the ceremonies—and I’ll be waiting for the photographic version of it all. And by this time suppose Gram is with you hustling about whooping it up in her sweet way.

And I don’t want to fail to mention the card I got from the Chambers in Alliance with a letter attached. With the nine boxes I’ve received I have everything from Bibles to fruitcake. I think I top the list in boxes.

I couldn’t forestall the chowhounds any longer so tonight we mauled our molars over the fruitcake. It was so darned good I hated to eat it.

Convalescing from our rhumba attempts last night we took a hand at banking over a megaphone for this evening’s routine. We’ve got one corporal in the barracks that could double for a Barnum tutored protégé. And this to a grating recording machine and grab a corner for some rare entertainment.

This is about the fourth letter from Dick’s pen tonight and it’s about time to laps so here’s the end of another one. I’ll be back again in a few hours.

Love,

22 November 1942

Dear Folks:

This is my first attempt in several days in writing a letter—but it wasn’t neglect—it was lack of illumination. Now that I have a faint flicker to aide me I’ll try to keep up again. I have received three packages from you and all in first class shape. I can use everything in them to good advantage especially the flashlight. These blackouts are nothing to crow about. I at once feel like a heel and a sentimentalist—getting so much from you and the Christmases before Tajo got tough. I really got bleary-eyed when I opened them. Thanks for every one of them. Thanks to every one of you from a way down where it means something. The V-mail is the first I’ve had in a long time. It is hard to get here. This is written from Dick’s pen and it works perfectly.

Besides your packages I’ve received one from Gram, from Mrs. Carroll, one from KSKY and one from Washington and one from Mrs. Davis in Lincoln to a grant total of eight. Surely I can’t complain. Mrs. Carroll sent a Bible and box of cigars, KSKY, a towel, cigarettes, toothpaste and pocket-knife and Mrs. Davis two decks of cards and a combination flashlight and pencil. With this array of equipment and supplies, I can eat and smoke for three months at least. They all came in the last three days so you can imagine what I’ve been doing. My bed looks like a canteen.

I’ll write again tomorrow to compensate for this short one—if Nancy thinks she’s got the best brother in the world I know I’ve got the (best) folks.

Love,

16 November 1942

Dear Dad:

I guess it’s been a long time since I’ve pinned a letter exclusively for you and now is a good a time as any to get off another. Received your long typewritten V-letter—a lot of news in it and I’m afraid I can’t reciprocate too well. I have had a couple of (letters) from Kate recently so apparently your prompting accomplished it’s purposes—but she’s pretty busy with the jump so near. It seems odd to hear about cold weather when it’s nice here—although I use my two blankets fully in the nights.

About the bonds—the deal is still on and has been since June at the rate of $12.50 per month. They should reach you soon and they will after the red tape and processing has been cut.

It seems like every letter has a little about a box and I can account for five or six now—three from you, one from gram, one from Mrs. Carroll, one from Kate and the girl in Washington. It is a darn swell feeling to know you all think of me so much. I hope you can use what I sent you and I believe you can. Maybe I should send you some sugar—there is no rationing here.

I’m really very fine and sleeping and eating like a retired postman.

Received a card from Mrs. Peters—I will answer it soon and a box from Gram that I think I told you about.

I’m up a blind alley for anything else so here’s the finis. Keep the typewriter stuttering.

Love,