Rain Archives - Page 3 of 5

27 January 1945

Dear Folks:

I don’t think this will be much of a letter but better write anyway. It was just another day today with no high spots. Dan Gottman came over for a little while so I showed him the pictures and the clipping you sent. He always likes to talk about the NPV. He told me a four-foot snake got under his cot the other day and scared him to death. I guess there are a few cobras around and hope I don’t run into one.

I just heard the mail plane go over so perhaps the day will end up with a letter or two. No packages yet. I heard over the radio a Liberty Ship was sunk 400 miles west of Hawaii. I hope it doesn’t have our boxes on it.

Had a good rain today so of course we are walking in mud again. We have our ‘office’ in a pyramidal tent and have the floor covered with sand, we also sleep in it. We keep dry and live under pretty good conditions. Of course we keep our stuff in boxes and filed desks so we can move in a hurry. I imagine Dad you’re moving your office around as much as we do.

Just opened a beer—pretty good and it’s cold – I mean as cold as we can get it here. We get all kinds and most of it is good.

A safari of ‘gooks’ is just going by the tent – must be 25 of them – each with a can that they collect our food that we don’t eat. The little boogars especially like coffee. So many of them are diseased I don’t like to get too close to them. The first thing in the morning, girls start coming around getting washing. They beat them on rocks and do a good job. Some of them are kind of cute, but I don’t go for their smell.

Guess I’ll go up to the 1^st sergeant and check on my mail. Well I believe this is all. I’m feeling fine and have my appetite going again. I know how you feel about Phil leaving but this is for sure, he will appreciate his home and his parents more than ever before and he will come to realize how much (he) has enjoyed. He will be alright.

Love,

21 January 1945

Dear Folks:

A quiet Sunday morning and I’m taking it easy so a good time to write a letter and perhaps take care of some others. Will probably go to church services this afternoon held in the mess hall across the road. Last Sunday listened to a very good divisional chaplain. The Catholic chaplain who serves our battalion strikes me as a very understanding and likeable fellow, and I think he is the best we’ve had. I hope he comes this afternoon.

Well it was rainy yesterday and everything is mud again but this morning is hot and sunny like a typical June Sunday at home. I even feel the mood of the day, and the morning funnies would complete the setting. But instead of funnies had service records to look at.

Haven’t received any mail the past three days due to the inclement weather. The first class comes in by the plane so if it’s dirty weather, no mail. Should rate several today. No second class has yet come in.

Dan Gottman came in a few days ago with an armload of Star-Heralds and only yesterday I finished reading them. Only a few of them were later than September so everything was pretty old, but still good.

Last nite afforded something a little different in the way of eats. Supper was (a) little weak so we fried a can of bacon that we’ve been lugging around for some time. It’s the best bacon and it was certainly enjoyed. To top this we ate fruit cake that one of the boys received. Each section has a small one burner cook stove so we can heat up a meal when we’re not eating from the kitchen. Probably tonight we will cook the popcorn that the Groves sent me, if we can find anything to substitute for butter. Once in a while we get a PX issue of a few candy bars. The cigarette shortage seems to be felt here also. Now we are issued one pack every two and sometimes three days and that isn’t near enough. Plenty of smokes for the fighting front doesn’t apply here. Have been expecting a hurricane but it hasn’t materialized yet.

Slept pretty well last nite in contrast to a few restless ones. These dark nights make me afraid some Japs may bust in the area and start shooting things up. I imagine they are pretty desperate and hungry now. I always keep my pistol loaded under my pillow together with my knife. Of course we’re pretty well protected but I still wake up easily when I hear a sound.

For the past three nights have been dreaming of getting home. I hope it’s an indication. Last night I dreamt of hitting the streamliner from ‘Frisco and was nervous as a cat. But I can’t help but feel that something will happen that will get me home this year. After I get in the 30 months bracket my chances will increase. Next month the 3^rd I will complete 29.

The Gooks as we call the Filipinos, are working around the area digging drainage holes and cleaning up. It takes about four of them to do an ordinary man’s job. I think they’d be better off working for themselves but a grass hut and a bolo knife seems to satisfy them. (See how I need that pen and pencil set). This one is okeh but it needs a little coaxing occasionally and I’m always using one.

I’m certainly over the dysentery but have a slight cold that keeps my handkerchief busy.

I hope all my mail is getting to you in good order. They seem to censor and dispatch it in good time and I hope they are not too old when they get to you. All the envelopes we get stick together and it’s a job getting them open. Maybe it would be a good idea if you enclosed an airmail envelope occasionally.

I guess I haven’t anything else to write about and it’s about dinnertime now so I’ll knock off, and hope the mailman rings plenty tonight.

Love,

15 January 1945

Dearest Folks:

A little while ago I had a refreshing bath in the river nearby, and so now after having finished supper I feel like one of the old folks who likes to sit in the evening shade and just relax until dark. I’m feeling better every day, but still feel a little abnormal at times. How good it would be to inhale a bit of frosty air or walk through a snowdrift, with both cheeks rosy and cold. Perhaps they wouldn’t appeal to you, but after having been in the hot climates for better than two years, such an experience would be a treat. The weather here is extremely sultry and depressing and sometimes it seems to sap your will to work. Now I’m sweating but this year in the sincere hope that I will be able to see you sometime in 1945. Still our Christmas mail has not come and at this late date I’m beginning to think that someone should be held accountable, and explain for the situation. I’m sure it has been a failure on someone’s part after having seen other units getting theirs. One package arrived today from Mrs. D. A. Grove. It was well beat up and looked as though it had been kicked around from pillar to post. Also received a Free Press, the first in many months and dated the 17^th August. And a November Reader’s Digest came. Although the second class mail has indeed been fouled up, the first class has been coming regularly, as of course it must. The night before last had a V-mail from mom.

Well I hardly know what to write about now. My work has been going along about the same. New things coming in each day and reports to keep up. I believe our administration is at a greater peak than when we were in garrison. I’m sure that Dad’s reports are very few in comparison to what we submit. I suppose I will always be connected with higher headquarters. I see Arden Conklin is talking officer’s training—it’s hard to imagine a man of his qualities getting the opportunity. Applications at present are out and quotas in what I might qualify in are extremely rare. The last enlisted man to leave our outfit for OCS was over a year ago. The rain has been keeping our area in quagmire and it is a job to walk around without stepping in ankle deep mud, and I suppose the rain will always be much as it is now. It’s great for the many water buffaloes around but sad for the sad sack. I guess this is all to this epistle, and you just keep breaking wishbones, and throwing horseshoes over your shoulder until I hit the states again. Hey here’s an odd little request – getting soft – can you get Wylma N’s address for me? I owe her a letter. What do you think?

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,

9 December 1944

Dear Folks:

Instead of getting closer to home as I would like to, I’m going farther away. I know you have probably been anxious since you haven’t heard from me for sometime and I’ve been equally as anxious to write you and let you know everything is alright with me. Now I’m in the Philippines. Pretty hot here in more ways than one. But the most annoying aspect is the rain – it seems to rain all the time and everything is always damp. However I’m now living in a pyramidal tent which is much better than a pup tent. There are native Filipinos all around the area. A few of them have stories about guerilla fighting and how the Japs treated them. And they are always bargaining for something–rations, clothes, matches, etc. The people seem very small and their grass huts are built in proportion to their size. But I’m not much in the mood to write a newsy letter – the main thing is to let you know that I’m fine and the prospects are pretty good. Our first night here we got a Fourth of July welcoming and much of it was spent in a foxhole. Jumping in a foxhole together with the rain isn’t enjoyable, but I can’t complain when I think of the infantry fellows who are up there taking it without even the small conveniences we have. The trip here had me worried a couple of times when the air raid sounded, but we got in without an attack. If you are reading about this place you know what the Japs are doing to hold it and its no quarter fight on both sides. The best thing that happened when we first got here was mail. It was waiting – first class and a package from you – you don’t know how comforting they were. The package had chicken in it and it was a good supplement to the K rations – and the pretzels went good with some beer we managed to ship over in an office box. And then I had a letter from Dad and Mom and a card from Reader’s Digest about the subscription. Would you write them and advise them of my new APO?

WelI thought I’d write this V-mail first for it might get to you a little sooner, but I’ll write again soon and give you more dope. The siren might sound again at any time and then I’ll have to put the light out and won’t be able to finish. So adios for this time.

Love,

20 October 1944

Dear Folks:

A little while before bed so maybe I can knock out a short communiqué. Had a letter from Dick tonight – one of the longest I’ve received from him. He sounded pretty good – but said you sent him some sour letters because he didn’t tell you about his getting hurt. He thought you was a little fed up. His only reason for not telling [you] was to keep you from being upset and we didn’t expect you would receive anything official about it. Well he’s been through a lot more, and he’s a great guy, and I wouldn’t write anything to make him feel as he does. Maybe it was just the way he took your letters.

Betty Hutton’s show is coming tomorrow and it will be something to look forward to. A look at a white woman with shoes on will be a treat in itself. The boys scavenged some lumber and have built a pretty nice looking stage. The seats are dirt filled sacks. Last night at the show it rained in almost cloudburst proportions but it didn’t diter many of the customers.

We’ve been following the news pretty closely – especially listening to the events in the Philippines and around Formosa. A Jap news broadcast today said they had sunk eleven of our carriers along with two battleships and several other ships. They were painting a rosy picture for themselves and I hope it is all fiction. Such news is discouraging. I wish I could describe for you the great activity here and what I know.

It gets pretty hot here but morale is kept up partially by the fact that we get afternoons off except when something urgent comes along. Baseball and volleyball take up the afternoon. So far we’ve been unable to get PX supplies and we’re pretty disgusted about the fact – especially when other units are enjoying cokes, candy, etc. An ice cold coke would sell for a buck easily.

Well enough for tonight – not much news so I’ll quite for this time.

Love,

12 October 1944

Dear Folks:

Maybe if I hurry I’ll have time to write you a few lines before show time. It’s raining again and I don’t think that will make any difference to the customers. A few minutes ago received my absentee ballot and a letter from Mom. I will vote ‘no’ also on the prohibition proposal. I think I’ll mail it in although I know very little about what’s going on or who the candidates are.

By the sound of your letter you must have the house finished now and I’m glad you’re not moving. I know a little time at home would be good for Dick and I and I hope I’ll be lucky enough to draw a furlough soon. The rotation system seems to be working now. That is a deal whereby you return to the states after at least 36 months overseas service and I still have about 11 months to go. It’s quite a matter for discussion and it’s what everyone is thinking about. I hope it’s still working when my time comes.

I’ve heard the news about the raids on Luzon and Formosa and other islands and it does sound good. We’re almost across the Pacific now. It seems impossible that only about 1,500 miles away is Japan – that’s not very far as distances go over here.

I don’t remember what else I can write about. My watch runs perfectly and I never need to set it. Feeling entirely normal again after the dengue. Well it’s about show time so I better grab my raincoat and take off. So goodnight once again.

Love,

10 October 1944

Dear Dad:

I was all set to go to bed and call it another day but just received a letter from you so thought I’d answer it while there is still a little time before bed.

It’s about time you received the package I sent you. I mailed it about a month ago and I’m anxious to hear what you have to say about them, the souvenirs I mean. Dick is anxious to know about them. I imagine they will make quite a stir.

As usual it rained plenty again today. A guy from Nebraska would go nuts with all the rainfall here. Everything is green now and the island looks very fertile. Radio Tokyo a few nights ago answered that all civilians and soldiers had died on the island and raved about their glorious stand. But all of them couldn’t see the ‘suicide’ stand and there’s still plenty of civilians around trying to get another start with what there is left. Of course they can only move around in certain areas and of course don’t get around the military areas. I don’t trust any of them.

I’m glad to hear, in a way, that you’re not moving to Bridgeport however whatever you would have done would have been okeh with me. I’m very anxious to see the house for it must be a beauty with all the work you have been doing, and how super lovely it will be to enjoy it. You don’t know how much I think about all the little things that you probably never think about. How I’d like to pull a bottle of ice cold beer from the refrigerator and drink it with you.

I’m feeling pretty good after the dengue fever but I’m not overly fat, if you know what I mean. Boy how I could sit down to a home cooked meal with all my favorites and eat forever.

Saw an Abbot and Costello show tonight that was a stinker. You should see us at a show. We sit in the worst rain and never notice it or wait a half an hour while they change a reel or get a bug off the lens. The Aladdin at its worst was a palatial ‘Hippodrome’ beside ours. In a few days Betty Hutton will appear with a troupe. The guys will probably go nuts over her not having seen a white woman since last May. And although we haven’t seen a white woman in a long time still we have our sex morality lectures and are told the customary things. A little ironical.

Well I wasn’t lucky enough to draw a furlough but maybe my luck will change someday. The quotas seem to be getting bigger and I’m hoping I’ll soon be lucky, however don’t be expecting to see me because anything can happen and then it’s better to be a little pessimistic. But after three years it seems something ought to happen.

Mom intimated I might have somebody in mind back there – feminine I mean but that’s not the case. I haven’t written to a girl in a long time but I’m thinking I ought to do something about it. I’ll have to start from scratch when I get back.

Been playing a little bridge lately but it’s hard to find players in this outfit – they all play pinochle.

Well I’m about finished for tonight. Just wrote Gram a letter – should write them more often. You’ve been doing a good job of writing – it’s depressing to not get a letter at mail call and you’ve been seeing to it that that doesn’t happen often, so I got to keep up my end too.

Well better stop and do some more dreaming.

Love,

8 October 1944

Dear Folks:

We’re having an early chow tonight and I only have a few minutes to write but there isn’t much news anyway. Last night a furlough quota was given the battalion and in order to pick the lucky ones, a drawing was held. Of course I sought the help of the gods but they were all drawn before I got a chance to pull out a ticket. It would be too good to happen I guess. Now I’m hoping we will get another quota next month and perhaps I’ll get lucky.

Received your letter with Katies (letter) in it – hope she gets settled soon.

So you saw a movie The Battle of the Marianas? We haven’t seen any newsreels of it yet and I’m sort of looking forward to it – wished I could have seen it with you.

Last night it rained a pouring downfall and my house started leaking and was finally forced to abandon it and set up in the office. Boy was I sore. I’ll tear the damn place down if it leaks again.

The office is still very busy and it doesn’t seem it will let down. Now it’s payrolls. We haven’t been paid in five months and preparing the rolls is a big job. Having completed 3 years service I get a five percent increase which will give me a little over one forty now. You may not receive my bond (until) after September as a result of a new issuing system but you will get them as soon as I get paid.

Well not much else and it’s show time so, so long for this time.

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,