Regrets Archives - Moss Letters

25 October 1944

Dear Folks:

I have wanted to write you all day and I hope this letter gets to you with all possible speed. I’m afraid my last two epistles didn’t sound too cheerful, and you may have thought I was quite the old grouch, and probably you felt a little bad about them, so I want to make amends for them and try to make you believe I didn’t mean all of it. I received two letters from you last night and they were such good ones that I felt like a two bit heel. So please attribute them to the mood I was in and not any kind of a criticism of you. I know how you feel and how you must worry and I shouldn’t do anything to make it worse for you, so accept my apologies, and believe me when I say I didn’t mean them.

Well today was sort of a red letter one. No, not furloughs or a big stack of mail or anything like that, just some fresh meat. A couple of ex-cowhands took a jeep and shot a young cow from one of the herds that run around here. They slaughtered it and got it ready and the cooks did a good job of turning out a real supper tonight – really hit the spot. If the spuds hadn’t been dehydrated it would have been perfect.

Saw the movie ‘Mr. Skeffington’ tonight and I thought it was superb. One of the best I have seen in a long time. No war or flag waving exhibitions, just a good peacetime cinema. I thought it was great and the moral behind it was very good. Bette Davis is tops in my book.

In Dad’s letter last night he said the souvenirs had arrived OK. Was the box broken up and was everything there? There are so many regulations connected with the mailing of souvenirs that I wondered if anything had happened to them. And don’t forget to mail me the clipping that Si Parker had about them.

And another bright spot on the calendar this week. For the first time since last May I had a coke. Yep, we were issued ten of them – I don’t know how long they will last – but I look on each one as a precious treasure and hate to drink one. Even though we can’t cool them very well they still taste pretty good. The beer situation is getting better and I think I have about six or seven cans left. Usually drink one every night just before the show.

Gee mom it sounds like you were pretty worried about me when I had the fever, but really it wasn’t as bad as I believe you imagined. It’s all over now and I feel fine again. As a matter of fact I feel better than I have for some time.

I can just visualize how much trouble you went to, to get Dick’s and my boxes ready and you don’t know how good it makes me feel to know that – well that’s just the kind of parents they are and whatever they would do for us they wouldn’t think it would be enough. As each month goes by I wake up a little more to the fact that you are both the best in the world, and then those inconsiderate things I used to do and the worries I caused for you come in my thoughts, and I wonder if I can ever show you all the respect and love you both deserve.

We haven’t received any second class mail in weeks so of course that means I don’t get the Free Press, so you be sure and throw in all those clippings – even the little ones about anybody I used to know. I suppose soon the mail will come rushing in like a broken dam and I’ll be reading for weeks to catch up. Of course the first class is coming regularly and in fine time. I’ll bet you’re really busy taking care of Dick’s and my letters, and I’ll bet you never wrote so much in your life – even love letters.

Shirley Carroll’s dilemma is indeed a sorry one, but it seems to be following a typical Carroll pattern. If it hadn’t have been this, it would have been something else. Perhaps she should have been more careful, although I do feel sorry for her and thought she would make out better than most of them.

The little mention of the fiddle is something I often think about, and I get a deep urge to play it again. Your ears must have been very sympathetic when I picked it up. And my gas models often put a curb in my daydreams. I’ve thought that after the war I would start in again as a hobby, and have a little more to do with (it).

Well the lights around the area are going out one by one and I seem to be one of the few left so maybe I better be thinking about hitting the hay. But be sure and pick out all the nice things in those sour letters and forget the bad ones. I guess we all get (into) moods and I don’t know what made me that way.

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,

23 May 1944

Dear Folks:

This should be a long letter full of quite a bit of news for the past few days have been pretty memorable. A few days ago I received a letter from Jack Conklin and noticing his APO number found he was only a few miles from my station so I immediately tried to get hold of him. I was lucky enough to reach him on the phone and that night saw him for the first time in three years. And for the past three nights we have visited and rehashed all those never to be forgotten things that we did when we were young and foolish. It was as good as a week’s furlough. Jack looks pretty good and acts about the same as ever. He has traveled around quite a bit since he left the states and has a huge stack of pictures that he had to show me. He seems to have a nice job and one that is very interesting and not quite so GI as many of them. He was anxious to see me and neither of us could hardly realize that we were actually talking to each other. I couldn’t get a hold of Dick so that he could see Jack, but perhaps we can arrange that later. I haven’t seen Dick myself for over a week now and don’t expect to see him for a while. Yesterday afternoon (Sunday) got a pass, and just before I left got a letter from you and Dad and so had to tell Jack all the gossip in it. It was (a) good letter to get because there was quite a little in it about the Conklins. Well finally I had to say goodbye and probably our next visit will be many moons from now. You don’t know how good it was to see him and find someone that could talk to you about things in common. After he told me all his travels and we went through his pictures. We talked about the aftermath and what we expected to do. Jack does seem more serious about life and realizes his life was put to him on a gold platter. What did I think I was going to do? Well I said I was going to go home for a while then go overseas again and start myself something abroad. I wish I could realistically relate to you our conversation but I’m not good enough for that. You will have to imagine the rest. Now to get around to your letters and see what I can comment about. I’m so glad you liked what we sent and perhaps again soon I can send you some oddities. I wish I could have sat in with you on the Ouija Board session and added some firsthand comments. One of the big things Jack and I remarked about was the love life of the younger set at home – I mean all the marriages and babies. And now little Jimmie Colson (is) engaged. Jack couldn’t imagine Kate with a baby. And of course Krumenacher, Fry, Carroll, and some others all came into our frying pan of gossip. We feel that we are being left behind and that our future mates will be hard to find (ha). And talking about the late songs – it is the custom in our tent to schedule a bridge game during the ‘Hit Parade’ so we don’t miss any of them. No we don’t hear Tokyo Rose in the Islands, although those who have good radios can tune in Tokyo and hear them pretty good. I heard some about a battle in the South Pacific and compared it with our news broadcast and somebody is lying like hell, and I hope it was the Japs. I would like to meet R. Pitsch but it is increasingly difficult to get off and when I can get off a day I hardly like to spend ¾ of it looking for someone although perhaps I will happen to be out there someday and can locate him. All the busses and taxicabs are crowded to overflowing and the highways are an endless ribbon of traffic and a dogface doesn’t find it too easy to get around. And now around to Dad’s inimitable manuscript. Your business must be very good and I was certainly surprised to hear the amount of money that you grossed last year. It makes me feel very good. Why don’t you take a picture of the place with the new signs and send me one? By the way Jack and I took pictures and he will forward a set to you.

Bill Dick should be a good man to work for you. And with the landscaping and redecorating you are doing on the house, I can’t wait to see it and put out a tear or two just looking at home once again. I know it will be something to see. And I suppose that when the farm is fixed up that also will be quite a garden spot. I hope all your hopes about the war is true and I sometimes think that this thing may crack sooner than we anticipate, but on the other hand think it will take quite a while. I wish you and I could talk the whole thing over. The new furlough plan seems to (be) taking effect for the boys in the Aleutians and I’ll bet they are having a good time, but don’t get too optimistic about my chances for I can’t see anything in sight for some months to come. I had a very nice letter from Gram today and Dick and I both thought after we mailed the package that we didn’t send anything to Gram and Gramp and they probably felt a little put out but we will send them something and try to make up for it. I surely miss her and think she is very sweet to write when I know it must not be too easy for her. She is the most kindhearted and helping person, and I feel bad about not always treating her as I should have. Well, here’s another request. I want you to take some of my money and find me a good, waterproof, shockproof, and accurate wrist watch. One that I can wear anywhere and that can take a stiff beating. You will probably have to put out quite a little for one but I need one badly and I want one that I won’t have to worry about if I get it in water or in the mud or wherever else might happen. Well I think this is about enough and I have a lot to do so I’ll cut off about here. Seeing Jack and reminiscing brought both of (our) homes into clear focus, and we appreciate them much more than you think and know that never again will we hold some of the ideas we did when we were younger. Well, so long for now.

Love,

21 March 1944

Dearest Mother:

I feel very cheap and low because I overlooked something very important so I guess the least I can do is to write you a more or less personal letter – or something like that. I forgot your birthday. Dick reminded me of it yesterday and then today your letter came with the remark in it. So we decided to make up for it but that will come later. I guess that was always one of my weaknesses–forgetting things. And knowing how you like to be remembered makes me feel especially neglectful.

As I mentioned, Dick and I got together yesterday and spent the day in Honolulu, among other things seeing a show at the Waikiki, ‘Old Acquaintance’ with Bette Davis. I went for it in a big way. In my estimation all of her shows seem to have a little more on the ball than most. I hope you will get to see it if you haven’t already. Later we went to Kapahulu and then came back to town to finish up. We talked a lot about our civilian days in the old country and brought up a lot of things that seemed good to recall. And we laughed about a lot of things and how at the time we thought we were putting something over on the folks. And of course we discussed all the womenfolk we used to know as every soldier uses this as his big topic. Dick has learned to appreciate many things that he used to regard as trifling and especially a greater regard for the efforts that you both have made. He was in a buoyant mood and looked heavier and better than ever. And of course he wants to get home pretty bad.

I read the item about ‘doc’ Blome and I would certainly like to see him. Sounds like he’s been in some hot water. I think he was about the best friend I had in Lincoln and I’m going to affect a meeting if it’s possible. The Red Cross in Honolulu can usually find about anyone. I knew his wife pretty well too – I mean in a social sort of way, whew!

I can’t get over you guys shivering in the cold, when the weather is so ideal here. The Honolulu papers usually manage to sneak in a little quip about the cold weather in the states and being over here for a while, I don’t wonder but what they are right. Of course this is the cooler part of the year and the beach at Waikiki doesn’t have a whole lot of swimmers. The waves looked pretty high yesterday, good for surfing – but you have to know how and I don’t.

I’m glad you heard the program from the Jungle Center. If you could have the opportunity to see the place in action you would learn plenty. One thing about learning to fight the Japs is to use any means at all. There is no sportsmanship about the affair – you just kill him no matter how, which I think is not so practiced in Europe.

The time seems to go very fast for me – it seems that it’s time to hit the hay before I get anything done. I’m preparing an outline of a book I received from Washington, and I’ve found the effort educational as well as interesting. Trying to make arrangements at the university hardly seems worth the effort when everything is so uncertain, although if I could ever feel any permanency in things, I would undertake it. Dick and I were talking yesterday of how you must have the house fixed up and how happy we are for both of you.

Well I guess this is about all, better get a little work done tonight and end up with a shave before the lights go out. Our radio bogged down this weekend while we’re attempting to inveigle, beg, borrow or swipe a tube, it’s pretty hard to get along without (one). We looked all over for the shells but there just aren’t any that would do at all – seems funny too when the shops offer about anything for sale to get the money. Our next trip out we will get something very nice and try to cover up for our thoughtlessness on your birthday. You know this letter goes for Dad too. Being your celebration I thought it would be a little more appropriate to address it to you.

Love,

16 March 1944

Dear Folks:

The mail dammed up for a while and today the dam broke and a deluge of letters came – at least it seems that five is a deluge. I had been wondering what (was) the matter but knew that it wasn’t your fault. Two came from you and one from Dad. Your letters are the only ones I pay any real attention to and the ones I look for the most. Also had a letter from Helen Barton Hartnett in Lincoln. She has a brother in the Air Force here and I saw him last December. Guess I better dig out the letters and see what I can put together. I’m glad you heard the Army Hour Program and about the Jungle Center here. You guessed pretty good. I wish I could tell you more about it. Although I didn’t hear the program I hope they did it justice, for it is certainly something. It must seem like old home week around there with Gram and Gramp back with you. I certainly hope they will find all they expect to in the farm, and that Gram doesn’t become to sick to enjoy it.

I read in the Free Press about the hot basketball team and Phil being high point man, and now your letters tell me that the team is going to Lincoln. It reminds me of the fall when I was at the university and saw the boys lose out by one point for the championship. I hope they come through and this time bring the bacon home.

You sound like you are really keeping busy with the Red Cross and getting the house cleaned up. But even with this I imagine you don’t have all the work you used to have riding herd on the five of us. What a busy bunch of years those must have been for you.

Yes, meeting anyone from the North Platte Valley would seem good. Anyone from Nebraska is a rarity here and even if they live four hundred miles away you can usually find something in common to talk about.

Dick called last night and it looks like we may be able to spend the weekend together although very little is certain. Monday he came in for a short visit and had supper with me. I know you are anxious to know something about him but I couldn’t intimate whether he may leave or not, and if I could say anything it would at most be only as the rumors have it. The prospect of seeing India appeals to me for having seen Hawaii, I want to get a look at more places of the world. It seems funny to us here how so many troops are still stationed in the states and especially outfits as what Berg must be in. And reading in the Free Press about fellows back on furlough brings a good howl.

When I first read about Swindell getting mixed up with the FBI over the draft deferments I had to laugh good and hard, but then thought I would like to choke everyone like him. Perhaps when I was drafted I should have offered to slip him a hundred bucks or so and maybe I would still be around. Perhaps the trial will bring out some even more surprising facts. How did they happen to catch up with him – did someone squawk after paying him?

Right now I’m deep in an outline of one of the law books I received and every evening I finish a page or two. It’s a big job but self-satisfying knowing our time is not being entirely wasted. Give Grandma a good kiss for me and my best hopes that she will get better quick. She has always been so kind to me that I kick myself for remembering the times I’ve been unkind towards her. I know it must be an effort for her to write and I do appreciate it. And the same goes for Gramp too. Well, quess this is ‘pau’ until the next time. As you never sit down at the table without remembering something or me so I never go to bed without thinking of you and wondering just how I would act the first minute I could walk in the door, and say hello to you both.

Love,

26 January 1944

Dear Folks:

I started out to do something else tonight but after receiving your letter it made me feel so good that I had to answer immediately. A four page one too, pretty good, and full of interest. I know my letters get pretty dull sometimes but I hope that occasionally you find something of interest. I understand full well what our letters mean to you. Well I’ll dig up the letter and make a little commentary on it to make this one (letter) a little longer. Last night our GI foursome got together and I turned out the goat. After having a five bid served up tight I fumbled and went down two. But we won in the end.

I’m glad you liked the book and I believe you probably feel much as I do about the islands. And about the sharks. Yes, there (are) plenty in the waters around and we are always cautioned to swim in designated areas and stay close to shore. Only a few months ago a soldier disappeared and sometime later a shark was caught with his remains inside. I saw the shark. In ‘Born in Paradise’ you will probably remember how Von Tempski would swim the cattle to the boat and how they were often attacked by the sharks. I often think if you were here how we could see the place much as we did in ‘Frisco, and I know you would enjoy it immensely. I’m very glad you made the request for the shells and I’ll get you the best sets the Waikiki district has to offer. I’m sure I can find something that you will like and I’ll get a big kick of really shopping for something.

Although I wouldn’t exert myself excessively it would be good to see Conklin. He must be back on rest or something. It’s hard to imagine him a soljer but guess that’s the case with many of us. The $140 I get a month really is okeh and as soon as I get the (dental) bridge I hope to increase my allotment again. You should receive $60 a month beginning February 1. I’m always anxious to know that the right amount is getting home for I know that many of them become very mixed up. Working in the Personnel office and being the personnel Sgt Major, I work with many such tangled cases. I guess you know the dependency allotments are compulsory for married men. It is surprising the number of wives who leave their men and that creates trouble for us and for them. But in many cases the situation is applicable to both members.

I remember seeing Dan Gettman at the dance you mentioned and he always plies me with question of folks he knows around Minatare. He is a typical Russian as we know them –rather dull, bold and unaware of his own ignorance. But he is a pretty good kid, always tries hard but can’t make the grade.

I can imagine Duane and Margy as you mentioned. Is Marge any fatter or unshaped? I hope my fixture is a little better proportioned.

I know how you must feel when my letters slow up and I always try to keep up with them. There are many things I would like to tell you and you probably wonder why I haven’t but that’s ‘verboten’. Dick’s future, from what I can gather, is still centered around agricultural interests. I have never heard him mention Miss Sagle but he misses the times he had at home. I never felt the urge to go to school so much as I have now and I always know the fact that time is so short for me to study. Sometimes my plans and dreams occupy a lot of my time and again, I get a little discouraged at the outlook, but never stop believing that all will turn out okeh.

Willis Nichols’ marriage was certainly a big surprise to me but I don’t think he ever quite lived up to the standards of the rest of the Nichols. He’s pretty lucky to stay home.

Probably many times in my growth you thought I was a hopeless case and I know I did little to deserve your attention but now, and everyday a little more, I picture more clearly your patience showing, working and planning you did to ensure my livelihood and wellbeing. Somethings are impossible to see until they are taken away and no longer there to be taken for granted. Now I remember little things you told me at the time I thought you were nagging and old fashioned and couldn’t see the reason for them but now they all fit in the picture much differently. I couldn’t see how fortunate I was.

Well guess this (is) ‘pau’ for this communique but I will find the shells and the best too and make another special request again soon too. I will have as good a time buying them as you will receiving them.

Goodnite to love,

20 September 1943

Dear Folks:

After that punitive letter I wrote yesterday, and the one I got from you today, I guess you well deserve another one immediately. For some reason your letter seemed to reflect a low spirit and maybe a little worried. I also have not heard from Dick for a month or so, but I thought he would write you regularly. I think it’s more this attitude than anything else. You know he never concerned himself too much with such matters. I will write him immediately and see what the score is. No, I don’t think it would do any good to send smokes to Dick—he never smoked any during our visit and I don’t think he does now. I know I should write you often to relieve your anxiety and although I don’t realize it as much as I should, I can imagine how you feel when no letters come. Of course it’s pretty verboten for me to express any opinions as to what may be in store but for the present things look pretty routine.

Only a little while ago I returned from pass but after spending the morning in town, gave it up for a bad job and came back to read and sleep. I make a daily effort to read at least two hours and I believe the result is definitely beneficial. The town seems pretty dead and I swim enough on Sunday afternoons.

I hope you don’t go to any great deal of trouble to find something for Christmas because there are so few things that I need or can use. I do remember one thing that you mentioned—and that was a ring. You always wished I had a good one.

‘Panama Hattie’ is at the theater tonight so better go. Our ‘theatre’ looks like an old gay ninety ‘bowery’ with the Hawaiian girls and signs painted on the walls. Something like the old curtain the Aladdin used to use.

Your letter seemed to touch me quite a bit, I don’t know just how but you all seemed pretty close when I read it. You are so good about everything, and I often feel that I haven’t done as well by you as I should have.

I can’t figure you out not liking avocadoes, because it seemed that I was always the one to turn down your inventions in the way of salads and new dishes. I like them very much and usually have some at dinner and supper. Yes, we use mess kits and I guess I’m like Dick in wanting to sit down at a table with a tablecloth and the food in bowls. And another pleasing prospect will be to use a tile bathroom again instead of the community stable that puts up a stifling stench to say the least. And we have chicken, usually on Sundays although the cooks, in my opinion, lack plenty in the way they prepare it.

I wish you (could) see the sunset as I see it now. The sky is aflame with purple and red setting down on the hills and the ocean. And to think that on the other side of that body of water is the mainland – ho hum. From the papers it looks like Duane C is receiving a round of good times on his furlough. I wonder if Margy is getting any fatter or more ill shaped. I hate to speculate on what our first reunion will be like, or maybe on the other hand the habits of the Army of sitting around in the evenings and chewing over the day’s business, will prevail, who knows.

Well it’s getting show time and my news line is exhausted so it’s so long until the next one.

Love,

27 April 1943

Dearest Folks:

Here’s another letter from that APO in the Pacific and I guess it’s about time. I was developing somewhat of a peeve against my mainland correspondents and resolved not to write until the letters started coming, however this wasn’t directed against you for yours come regularly and consistently. When I read your letter today I felt pretty low and at the same time sore at myself. You mentioned dad’s birthday and I did nothing about remembering him, and although I know what you would say, I still feel bad about it. However, perhaps I can make it up by a telephone call. Arrangements have been made for transpacific calls, so perhaps at the end of next month when I will get my increased pay I can swing the deal. I think it would be a great experience and something to remember for a long time. And this time it will be on me for no collect calls are possible. I suppose you have the pictures and the bond by now, and soon I will have the prints of the ones we took on the hike to the ranch. Well last Sunday I got off for the dance and had a good time despite the heat and the crowdiness. In the morning I attended Easter services in a very beautiful and inspiring church, but despite the singing and the flowers could not feel the same response from my own church. I have been invited to the convent again for a revisit, and hope I can keep the date if only for the supper. In order to write a letter I have to start thinking about a day or two in advance and then hope that I haven’t forgotten what I was going to say, but that is usually what happens. Last night a fellow in the band got ahold of an old fiddle and when he started playing I couldn’t help going over and having a look. Finally a little later, I even got a stroke or two myself and found I was pretty rusty, but with the little privacy and my propensity for shyness I’m afraid I won’t improve. Here is the end of the sheet and the end of this too.

Love,

26 January 1943

Dear Folks:

It wasn’t a half hour ago that I finished a letter to you but it wasn’t enough to dissolve my guilty conscience completely so I’m back at it again. I have a few pictures that you can keep on record until I get back. The picture of me jumping into the pools lacks plenty of the glamour side but the guy caught it just right and when I wasn’t expecting it. The building is the bathhouse and the panoramic views are of the ball field adjacent to the pool. The place is much prettier than pictures. It doesn’t show the broad lawn or the flowered hedges, nor the clouds over the hills. The place I am at now is more suitable to my palate if you will recall my favoritism for fruit. Here in camp are avocadoes, oranges, limes, pineapple, papayas, and many banana trees and probably more that I have forgotten.

I went to the show tonight and saw a newsreel antedated to October or so. But the picture was good and the mosquitoes were hungry. “King’s Row” is currently showing and I don’t want to miss it.

I know these two letters won’t suffice for my negligence but I’ll double up on the next week and hope that the tray will please you.

I never go to bed without thinking about you and realizing what I failed to appreciate. Every time I see a lady with four or five jewels getting on a bus I can see you ten years ago.

Love,

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,