Peeved Archives - Moss Letters

14 September 1945

Dear Folks:

Well I’m still on Okinawa and still waiting. We are supposed to leave either tomorrow or Friday for the Personnel Center but I’m afraid it may be postponed until next Monday. It’s still the old waiting game and the old cry ‘no transportation’. The harbor is so packed with ships you could hardly throw a stone without hitting one, and the airfields are running over with planes – but still there’s ‘no transportation’. Sometimes it’s hard to contain yourself. I heard today that some kind of a congressional investigation is underway about it – I hope so. Everybody seems concerned about it. Certainly no large numbers of eligible personnel are being shipped out of here – I believe the number is very small since VE day. I can’t for the life of me figure why everything moves so slow. Well that’s enough about that, and that’s the way I sit now. Let’s hope it won’t be postponed any further.

My life is very monotonous these days. It’s more a matter of keeping out of sight and trying to find something to do to pass away the time. Yesterday I rode down to the Personnel Center to attempt to pick up some rumors, but couldn’t find out much. Then a little later went on to Yontan Airfield. It has been hot and dry the past two days but in this place we may have a cloud burst in five minutes.

Chow is still terrible but yesterday we had two fresh eggs for breakfast. Now I suppose it will be another month before we get anymore.

A couple of nights ago seven Japs got into one of the neighboring battalions and injured several guards. The guys killed three of them and next morning found one of them was a woman dressed in full Jap uniform.

Well I believe that’s all. Plan to go to a show in a little while and then call it another day.

Love,

7 September 1945

Dear Folks:

Better write you while I can still do it. It appears pretty definite that we will leave either Monday or Friday of next week. And I don’t think we will be in the personnel center more than three or four days. Life is pretty easy right now as far as work goes, but the waiting is pretty tough. I will go to Fort Logan, Colorado to be discharged, and will get travel pay from there to Minatare. I thought it might be nice for you to meet me in Denver, but after thinking it over, I think it would be better at home. Reading in Time magazine it looks like about everything will be plentiful by Christmas time.

I’m in not too good a mood tonight and for several reasons. I don’t like to tell you about them but sometimes I just get so fed up and peeved I feel better by writing. Maybe it was the heat today – it gets hotter than the devil and you sweat like a washrag just laying down or doing nothing. And to add to it the food is terrible. I can’t understand it. Tonight was beans [lima] and sauerkraut and coffee. And it’s like that day after day. I don’t know who gets it but when they tell you the good food goes to the combat troops don’t believe them. Since we have been in combat from June 1944 it has been that way. But the biggest thing that gets me worked up is to read about the Blackhawk Division back in the States from Europe after 46 days at combat and less than 6 months overseas putting up a bitch about being sent to the Pacific. That takes a lot of guts. A large number of the men in this battalion have been overseas three years and through as much combat as any and yet they have no idea when they will get home. And yet men with 45 points don’t get overseas service. Go through three combats or more and yet have no assurance of getting home. My 85 will get me back soon but the guys with less than 80 I sure feel sorry for. And yet they want to cut the draft and give the guys already here more service. The troops over here have taken the beating and lived in places where no white people have been, and taken what the army has left over, and when the war is over, tell them you aren’t through yet. You know how I feel about the situation. Some of those European troops weren’t over long enough to feel homesickness. Well those are my sentiments.

Had two letters yesterday one from Dad and one from Mom. Both very good. I was surprised to hear how well your store is going, and I can tell you have bigger things in mind. I am certainly proud of you and admire you for the courage to do it. And I feel like [if] you do that, it can grow into a big success. I know you are the right guy that has the stuff to deal with people and build up a good reputable business, and I know that when you get ready to leave it, it won’t go to pot, because the Moss boys will take care of that. I feel like I have a lot to say about it but I’ll save it until I get home.

I think I told you not to write any more. It feels good to write a letter without knowing an officer will be looking it over later. I know a lot of letters will have some torrid stuff in them now that censoring is off.

Last night I went to USO stage show that I didn’t think was so good. But there was three girls in it, so I guess it was worth going to. We have a pretty nice stage considering it was built and designed and built by GIs. Kay Kyser’s show was plenty good, full of a lot of laughs, and pretty gals.

An organ is playing on the radio right now – some tunes that make me half way feel like bawling. It seems almost too good to realize I’m going home. Now I’ll have [to] get used to Nancy grown up, and Philip too. Had a letter from Phil and he said it was possible he might see me, but I’m afraid it’s too late. I’d almost stay another week to meet him. He may be in for some time yet, but he will probably get leaves pretty frequently. Said he wished he had gotten married while he was still in the States.

I hope you got to see Dan Gettman. He’s a good hard working kind, but a little slow. Friendly as the devil.

Well I’m going to knock off for tonight. I don’t know exactly which letter will be the last but it may be this one. But if a week goes by and no letters [come], keep in earshot of the phone because I am probably on my way.

Love,

15 August 1942

Dear Folks:

I know you must be anxious to hear from me and now is a good time to get it done. I just had some ice cream from the canteen then shaved and showered so I feel pretty good now ready to be quiet for the rest of the evening.

Thursday we left Fort Lewis and the next day arrived at an embarkation camp near Pittsburgh and about 30 miles from Frisco. It is a brand new place and the barracks swell, but they are painted dark OD and don’t look very impressing. Incidentally our CO said this morning that during our trip someone had burned 300 feet of thistle in the mountains and we were re-routed—shows the need for secrecy I guess. Since we have been here we have had two physical inspections on eyes, teeth, heart, etc. By the way the dentist said my teeth were sound but that the army could make no allowance for the broken tooth. This all seems to indicate that we will be moving soon—understand that two of our batteries are leaving immediately then we will follow. Again I’ve rejected hope for furloughs, tough as it is.

The kitchen here serves cafeteria style and requires 60 kp’s. The canteen is practically in our backyard–that comes in handy in off hours. This morning we had to sign slips to the effect that we understood that any AWOL, even for a short time, constituted desertion and we are liable for execution or loss of citizenship and a dishonorable discharge. Guess it has to be that way though.

Passes are tough to get and I have little hope of getting out to see Frisco.

Everything seems pretty much the same at least as much as possible. I can’t seem to find much to write about even though you probably think I should fill a book. Suppose the sleeping bag has reached you by now.

All I can think of is a little time off with all of you and loafing around home and when I think of all the time in the past when we could have been granted them, it sort of irks me that before we left Lewis all organizations not subject to overseas duty were authorized to grant 15 day furloughs.

Probably I’ll write again tomorrow being Sunday with little to do, so maybe I can write a little more.

Love,

PS I have been promoted to Private First Class so put PFC in front of my name. Also don’t forget to use APO 1288.

31 May 1942

Dear folks:

I’m supposed to be a fire warden today but looks more like a small town philosopher, leaning back in my chair and taking it easy. This has been a sad weekend. Saturday being Memorial Day we were promised two days off with passes, but as you probably read in the paper, Stimson says the coast is in danger so our leave was cancelled and guards doubled and new ones added. Saturday I was on KP and what was left of the battery went on a 20 mile hike in the woods. Sunday (today) a hike of 25 miles was scheduled but because about everyone is on guard somewhere it was called off. We have guards in the halls, on the balconies and everywhere. This morning (Sunday) we had to fall out for reveille, something we don’t usually do. All of us were in bed when the fall-in whistle blew so plenty were AWOL for not hitting in the line in time. I was afraid my puttees would fall off any minute and my pants weren’t even buttoned. But I got by, I went on guard at ten this morning and will be on until six this afternoon. What a weekend! And then we didn’t get paid on time for some reason and haven’t got it yet. No money, no pass, no liberty I’m disgruntled. Oh well it can’t last forever.

I guess our outfit is being split up to take men for cadre positions. I’ve heard something is in store for me but I’ll write when it’s definite.

All this wonderful chow you read about in the papers is a lot of phooey as far as I’m concerned. Our rations get slimmer all the time. Once in a while we get good stuff but some meals are really terrible. Don’t think I’m not getting enough to eat or the right kind but the way it tastes sometimes is bad. Don’t think the army only uses grade A stuff either. Most of it is second quality.

(author switches from pen to pencil)

Well a couple of days have passed since I wrote. Guess you think I’m getting to be an agitator or something or maybe a guy isn’t a good soldier unless he’s crabbing.

Threw together the above so maybe I can add a little more to my army career.

Our outfit was reorganized lately and I was given a rating of corporal on the cadre. The cadre is a group of sixteen men chosen to form the nucleus as framework of a new battery. The rating will not go into effect until we are moved. I may go anywhere and the latest is to Michigan or the east where several new divisions are being organized. I’m hoping so. Or I may go back to California. Don’t know of course when the cadre will move but I believe it will be soon. My position is battery clerk.

Got Dan’s letter today. Will answer it tomorrow.

Will write again tomorrow so will cut this off here.

Love,

3 May 1942

Dear Folks:

I’ve wandered over half of the camp since supper and couldn’t find anything I wanted to do so here I am back on my bunk writing to you, which I should have done in the first place.

The box came about three days ago and did I have a good time opening it. The towels were just the thing and when I got around to the food I had about a dozen chow-hounds to get rid of. Everything hit the spot. Also got the Star Heralds and the Free Presses. I heard over the radio that there was plane wreckage with Bob [Redding from Minatare] among the crew. All were believed dead.

Well last Sunday we moved from the newer part of the fort over to the old section with the brick buildings. Our battery is sleeping in the usual wooden barracks but they are swell brick buildings all around. It was a heck of a time moving—the second Sunday in a row we worked and my morale was feeling pretty low. So for about all we have been doing is scrubbing, cleaning windows and the like. Everything has to be so darned perfect whenever we leave a place.

The building we eat in, and where a couple of batteries of our battalion are quartered is about the size of the Scottsbluff high school and fixed up elegantly. Finally after hearing and reading about the army’s modern equipment in the kitchen, I’ve actually seen some. The kitchen is a large room lined with brick tile and accessorized with Monel metal on most appliances. We have electric dishwashers and automatic potato peelers. And there is one machine that stands about four feet high and looks like a large drill, but is isn’t. It has a good size paddle on an off-center shaft that whips potatoes. Really a nice place. Seems too good to be true and I hope to break myself of the habit of grabbing my mess kit when chow sounds. We eat on Monel covered tables and use dishes and cups. All this reminds me of OP tomorrow. Report at 5:30 AM to work until eight in the evening. I’ll be plenty sapped tomorrow evening.

I have found a number of pit passes since coming to Fort Lewis and the first made its appearance last Saturday night. We were given eight hour passes from five until one so me and my pal decided to go to Tacoma. Well we waited from five-fifteen until eight-thirty, almost three hours before we got on a bus. I swear the ticket line was at least two blocks long leading into a postage stamp shack with but a single clerk selling tickets. I, and plenty others were pretty disgusted. An eight hour pass and three were spent getting a ticket and waiting for a bus. Finally about 9 we got into Tacoma and had a whopping supper but had to wait an hour for that. Every little place and large too was packed with soldiers. And repeat the above process on trying to get a bus home then getting up at seven Sunday. Tonite I tried to go to the show but the line there was inexhaustible, and the canteens reminded me of the May Company on Saturdays or trying to play polo in a submarine. I guess that’s about all of my peeves except the rain and KP.

The latest dope is that we will be here for at least eight weeks of intensive training.

This chilly weather here seems to have helped my appetite and am eating more than usual.

Have had a case of infantigo for the past two weeks. It is beginning to subside and is a lot cleared up. I looked like a guy out of a comic magazine with my face spotted up with the violet stuff the doctor puts on it.

Well I guess this finishes another issue. Hope to take advantage of the library if it isn’t like the ticket lines.

Given this letter is about all grip, well I’ll be more cherry in the next one.

Maybe I could elaborate a little more on the corny. In the first place you see fellows from all kinds of outfits. There are plenty of ski troopers here all abundantly equipped for mountain warfare. They train on Mt. Rainier. Then the other day I saw droves of good mules that are used by the pack field artillery. Guns [175’s] are bundled up in 250 pound pieces and packed by these mules. Of course there are tanks, mammoth railroad guns and half tracks. Some of the queerest names are attached to them, I mean the half tracks (lugs on the back and wheels on the front) such as “Cozy Coffin”, “Coughing Coffin”, “La Muerte” and “Chattering Coffin” etc. Then there is the Air Corps.

Well better quit now. 5 is awful early and I’ve got to wake up myself.

Thanks so much for the box. See you in the next letter.

Love,