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25 December 1942

Dearest Folks:

Here it is Christmas Day 1942. That’s just about all I feel like saying—today is Christmas seems enough. I guess a guy should have a lot to feel (good) about and write about but I can’t find any words. The day was an easy one and I spent most of it reading and listening to the radio. For dinner we had everything and plenty of it and we exchanged gifts that were put under the tree in the mess hall.

I started this letter last nite but didn’t feel up to finishing it so perhaps I can tonight. Had some films come in today so here are a few.

I just came back from a show at our open air theater—pretty good too.

And here’s a copy of our paper sort of done up in Christmas style. It doesn’t seem any easier to write tonight than it did last (nite) so I’ll let the rest of the contents suffice for this time. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have time and more words.

Love,

20 December 1942

Dear Folks:

A quiet Sunday night after a rather full day and something different to write about this time.

A group of entertainers, hula dancers, singers and guitar players came out and gave us some native jive. The dancers were pretty good and really made their hips sway but not like the commercialized artists in side shows. I took several shots of the dancers with my camera. Near the end the girls grabbed a few soldiers and they all hula’d. Very funny. After this we had a dinner similar to the custom on the islands. The main course was a hog cooked in hot rocks and covered with banana leaves and burlap and dirt. After cooking for four hours it was dug out. Very delicious and cooked to the bone. The bill of fare was very unusual and probably one that I’ll remember a long time. Besides the hog there was octopus tentacles, poi, chicken, sweet potatoes, a gelatin like mass of coconut and an unidentified something that looked like spinach. The octopus cuts like rubber and I found them disagreeable. Poi is a food that looks, and as far as I’m concerned, tastes like library paste. It is considered a treat among islanders. The octopus was a faded red and had nabs like several chicken cords. The table was covered with red and green flowers and it wasn’t hard for me to imagine a truly native affair. It was something different and an experience although I didn’t really get filled up over the chow. A couple of boys were making hats from palm stems so I borrowed one long enough to pose for a picture.

All we hear on the radio lately is Christmas music and it really sounds good. A real Christmas seems like a long time ago.

I guess this is all for another time. I think of you all the time.

Love,

10 December 1942

Dear Dad:

It has been a long time since I last wrote but if the family tatters the edges of those I write then I guess I can be excused, but I do want to write you often and keep as close to all of you as I can. Tonight was a landoffice business on mail and about everyone rated something. I had two and a postcard; one from Pat and a card from the Reader’s Digest about the subscription. I have about a dozen books on my bed but the Digest is a must. The town nearby operates a free library or rather a traveling free library. Also the Red Cross supplies us with plenty of old magazines.

Tonight the radio is going on as usual and right now it’s Major Bowes. Radio batteries are pretty non-existent. I guess the WPB has ruled them out for commercial purposes. For other entertainment the USO makes movies possible. They are shown in the recreation room of the hospital. Most of the fellows are attending. But I walked to the irrigation ditch for a bath and didn’t make it back. The army has a PX in town that is pretty well stocked and where soldiers can get essentials and supplies at reasonable cost.

There is a little news—have a pass on Saturday to go to the beach, wouldn’t you like to swim in December? The flowers are getting prettier all the time.

Last night I sent you the paper and a letter so I’ll slack off.

I’m in good spirits and better health—this sunshine is a good tonic. Hurry with Katie’s pictures. Goodnite and I’ll take you up on the jacket.

Love,

2 November 1942

Dear Folks:

After reviewing two of your letters guess it is high time I took up my pen again. I think my mail is arriving okay—for many of yours have been received and hardly a mail call goes by without my getting at least one but then I never get enough to suit me. Gram is behind I believe. Perhaps if I scan over your letters, I can find something to write about. The news about Eilad Horshman is news—it was time she flew the coop though—or perhaps the coop never was much of a cage. Haven’t received the Free Press yet but they’ll get here. My tooth is yet unfixed although I had a dental appointment but it fell through. Believe they intend to pull it.

And the subscription is just the ticket—we subscribe to it but it isn’t always available and I like to read it through. I’ve answered the rest of the questions.

Tonight in the dayroom the radio is crashing on every table—there’s a game of pinochle going on, two or three books being read and plenty of letters being written and the smoke is like a blanket of clouds.

About this time every nite I turn over a leaf or two on an old memory album and look at each picture slowly and catch a glimpse of the privileges that made them possible. Guess I’ll stop with that.

Goodnite and a bomber load of love,

21 October 1942

Dear folks:

Here is another letter before I blow out the candle for another day. As I do about every night, I’m sitting in the day room with one ear on the radio and reading a little. I’ve been working on Sandburg’s Lincoln for about three weeks but have it about read. With the Red Cross books I’ve a long way to go yet. Also we have a mobile library that makes the camp about once weekly. Hope we’re beginning to look up in this war situation. I think so and hope I’m right. Think something will happen this winter. Sunday a card to June and Loyd yesterday.

Guess I’ll have to throw in the towel on this letter. I’m out of news. Should write Kathleen again soon although she hasn’t answered my last letter yet. Suppose she’s walking around on a magic carpet. Goodnight until next letter.

Love,

17 October 1942

Dear Folks:

I don’t feel very disposed to write but maybe I’ll get that way if I get started. This is (a) far different Saturday nite than I used to spend at home–writing letters and listening to the radio. Your letters have been arriving regularly but I notice you still are using the old organization address. Don’t forget to change it or my mail may be held up sometime. Maybe if I dig up your letter I can find something to write about. I can’t tell you how far I am from Ft. Shafter as that is on the ‘verboten’ list but I wouldn’t be able to see him. I have his address but haven’t written to him. Listened to a football game today from the mainland and sitting in my shorts seemed far away from the chilly football season. Heard Nebraska got beaten by Minnesota. Gladys Davis has been writing me regularly and she keeps me in touch with Lincoln. And yesterday I received a letter from a Mrs. Hartnett, a lady who lived on the same floor apartment as Mrs. Davis and who often filled in our bridge games. She was one of the sweetest, and best looking by the way, of any women I’ve seen in a long time. I was very surprised to get (it) and I felt like a chimney sweep when I answered her letter. With all the experiences in Lincoln, I surely want to get back. She wrote that there are more students on the campus than she had ever seen.

Had four letters today and in good time too. In your Xmas package, wrap it securely—the way they toss them around is something drastic. I couldn’t make up a list on a bet but personal things are always needed. Goin’ to play Monte Carlo now—goodnite. I’m to damn well off to be respectable.

Love,

23 June 1942

Dear Folks:

I just wrote you last nite but another one won’t hurt and besides I got your last letter this afternoon.

Was surprised to hear that Dick was home. Thought he would go back sometime but not so soon. Hope he finds a good job soon.

Next Monday (June 29) we go to Yakima for intensive training and firing. It is about one (hundred) forty miles from here and over the high mountains past Mt. Rainier. They tell me it’s pretty hot over there, but we have our suntans so it won’t be as bad as the woolens. We will be there for at least a month so you can send me some cookies there. Suppose we will start using our sleeping bags again. It’s going to seem tough leaving these luxurious barracks but also good to get into the open again. During these operations we will have aircraft observations and dummy bombs of flour.

Still nothing on furloughs. Two of our men are on them but they are only for emergencies and the Red Cross makes a thorough investigation.

Payday will really be something this time with the fifty bucks. I haven’t heard anything about the two paydays a month, but I think it would be a good idea. Along with the raise in base pay was a special arrangement for dependents. For every $22 the soldier sends home the government adds $28 to it. This is mandatory for married men and only available for men with dependents. A pretty good deal. The $12.50 for my bonds will be taken out this month. As the bonds accumulate they will be sent to you.

Now to reread your letter and answer the questions. Yes I still go to church, there is a big brick chapel on the post. I use cream to shave with the lather type but with the tube stipulation, soap is alright. I’m well supplied with toilet articles but can always use razor blades, shaving cream, or face soap. The number of division is the Fortieth, the emblem of which is a yellow sun on a dark blue background.

Boy does it rain around here—wish Nebraska could get some of it. Guess that’s why I don’t mind it so much.

Tomorrow night the Camel Caravan is coming and if it’s as good as the one I saw at Roberts it is pretty good.

Guess I told you about my excursion in Seattle last Saturday.

I plumb forgot about Dan’s birthday but I must remember him someway—and sixteen too. That reminds me of the days that I was sporting a pout because I was too young to pedal a bike.

Well l am going to listen to Fibber McGee and Bob Hope so until next time.

Lots of love,

22 March 1942

Dear Folks:

While I’m waiting to go on guard at ten I just as well write you a few lines about stuff and things. Last Wednesday a.m. battery began a week’s tour of guard duty so I’ve been confined to camp when I’m not on post. I walk from ten until two o’clock at nite and in the morning with eight hours off between each tour. I’m posted at a lake set up in the hills. It’s very pretty up there and this morning it was so bright and sunny it didn’t seem possible that a war could be going on. Every day is so lovely and full of spring. Spring don’t mean much around here but just the same March 21^st spells something that the parts describe.

Got a letter from Bill E and Margie a few days ago. Bill seems on the verge of getting married. Margie, by reading between the lines, seems pretty low about everything. I get the impression she’s a little worried about Duane and his future. Rightly so, I believe.

This day was one of considerable leisure for me. Got up at nine and had pancakes for breakfast then walked guard from ten until two then laid around on my bed and listened to the radio and finished reading “Flotsam’. Later I washed my hair and shaved and now I’m writing you and waiting to leave soon.

Want to get to see the folks, yes I will too either this coming Wednesday or the following weekend. Even though some of my visits are not very far apart, I look forward to everyone as though I hadn’t seen them in ten years. If I don’t get down Dick said he was coming up. Dick is sure swell to me and we sure have a lot of fun together. It’s swell to have him so near.

Marge said that June K would look me up; also said that the former Dolores Dunbar often came to Escondido so maybe I will have some visitors soon. I hope so.

I’ve had such a supply of toilet articles that only tonight did I begin to use what Grandma and June gave me for Christmas. The buck cornsheller keeps good time and I look on it as something that almost lives. I left my other one with the folks to put in safekeeping. I couldn’t think of a thing that I need. Grandpa gave me an old fishing box with several shelves, that I was a little reluctant to accept, but it’s just the ideal thing to keep supplies in.

Patsy sent me another box of cookies. She seems to be taking quite an interest in my welfare.

Walter Winchell just came on the radio. I hope you listened too.

Guess this winds up this little edition of ink slinging.

Love,

25 October 1941

Dear Folks:

Although I think you still owe me a couple of letters I’ll write while I have nothing to do. This is Saturday afternoon and a beautiful day here. I just got through playing baseball with my shirt off. It’s pretty hot. Just got out of the shower and sitting around in my shorts luxiously relaxing. Everybody is listening to a radio wondering how their team will come out. Wish I could hear Nebraska.

Haven’t started my radio schooling yet and won’t for a couple of weeks. Since I’ve been here in the specialist battery we’ve been working on an oil mat to drill on. Boy that’s hard work and plenty dirty but it makes me feel good and eat plenty. When the rainy season begins here it rains all the time and the mud is actually on the tops of knee boots. That’s why all the work on the oil matting. Yesterday laid an oil mat for a basketball court. After this is finished I will begin my technical training on radio work. This battery I’m in has quite a good past. Since it was formed nine months ago our battery has never lost the “Best Battery” sign which hangs on our orderly building. It is the best battery in the whole camp and the best in the special battalion. The radio battery of the specialists is considered the best and to have the best and smartest in it. Also our regiment has had the regimental banner 5 out of 6 times. I’m quite proud to be here. The fellows seem to take more interest in things here. Sidewalks have been built up and a lawn and patches of flowers are around the barracks. Also by the mess hall we have a fountain with a square cupola over it plus an old Dutch windmill on top of it. But being in this battery means plenty of work. Friday nights we get on our hands and knees and scrub the floors. On Saturdays the latrine is cleaned. Yesterday I washed windows on the second floor—plenty of them and to think I used to gripe at home to just wash a few. This morning I was latrine orderly and had to polish the bowls and brass til it shone like the sun.

Thursday nite the camp gave a broadcast over NBC but I didn’t go. Don’t know what I’ll do tonight suppose go the show or the service club. This service club is quite a building. In it is a large cafeteria and café, a dance floor and a balcony around it. Also there is a library and a larger fireplace. I have signed up for two night school classes given in the Paso Robles high school. The courses are Spanish and trigonometry but don’t know whether can take trig or not.

My pal now is a fellow who is from Omaha and formerly worked in the War Department finance office. He also is a graduate of Nebraska University in Business Administration. He’s a swell fella and we go every place together. Practically all the fellows in my barracks are from Missouri or Kansas.

All soldiers do get half rates on transportation that is a cent a mile. Also I get a ten day leave at Christmas. I can go to Grandmas if I can’t get to you. It would take quite a bit to come home. I’ve written letters to Grandma but haven’t heard from her. I’ve had some trouble getting my correspondence straightened out after all these changes, however I’ve gotten mail from you, one from Dad (keep ‘em coming) and note from Mom with a buck in it. Thanks so much.

Got a letter from Kate and one from Bill Emick yesterday. Kate didn’t say much though I’ll answer today. By the way I suppose you addressed your letters to me from the card mailed from Leavenworth but be sure and address the rest from the card I sent that is Battery D, 55^th FA Tng. Bn. Use private and not mister.

Guess that’s everything. Say hello to the kids.

By the way I did know Professor Walker very well. Used to wait on him when I worked on “Bucks”.

See you in the next letter.

Lots of love,