USO Archives - Page 2 of 2

7 July 1943

Dearest Folks:

My letter writing is becoming atrocious but perhaps you have also had spells when you didn’t feel like writing or found so many other things to do that you neglected it. Well, I guess that’s my situation. On my pass last Sunday, the Fourth, I forgot all about the customary fireworks but had a good time dancing and loafing at the army recreation center. I believe it was one of the best days off that I spent since I’ve been here and the next time I hope to spend the day on the beach. I guess I told you about the places in a previous letter. Our open air theatre near our camp has been built up considerably. Until now we have night shows once a week at night that are usually put on by the USO or home talent. Although you might be a little abashed to sit through a movie I wished you could hear the cracks that come forth. From the picture I sent you, you can tell about what it used to look like. Tomorrow night we will have another show preceded by a little swing session by our band. The band is a part of the battery and I think they do a darn good job.

I haven’t heard from Dick since I returned but I guess it is up to me to write him a letter soon. I’m anxious to see the pictures we took and if they don’t turn out I’ll be very disappointed.

Tonight I think I’ll stay in and perhaps do a little more reading on my book that is plenty thick and will probably take me a long time to read. I hope you can find the ones I mentioned although you will probably have to do a little looking around. I very seldom work at night and I want to know as much when I get out of the army as when I came in, I hope.

Every time I see a newsreel on North Africa I think of Jim and wonder if possibly he is in some of the scenes. I suppose he was right in the thick of it and I hope he came out none the worse for it. It’s hard to imagine Halsey missing knowing him as I do and trying to picture him dead or a prisoner—I guess everyone experiences the same feeling, especially when the person is so well known and knowing his peculiarities. As for myself I don’t think the Allies will ever make an invasion of the continent as everyone thinks they will. The enemy has built up terrific defenses and the casualties and cost would be too high when they can either (be) bombed into submission or beaten from the Russian side. I would bet even money it will be a grand scale attack from the air and the Russian side but no invasion. I can’t see Japs whipped because of the big problems of supply and the new systems of communications that will be necessary before we can really begin to knock them off. I think it will be at least two years yet. I hope I’m way off on my opinions but I’m afraid the war with the Japs will be as long as the time the Germans have been fighting. Well, that’s enough on that.

I believe I’ve said enough for this letter. Maybe, too much, but I don’t feel unduly pessimistic about the future, because I really believe times will be better than ever when this is over. But unless somebody can formulate a lasting peace then we better quit now, and get ready for another one. I guess this is good night and don’t let what I have written make you feel gloomy or downhearted because I’m not myself. I know all will turn out the way we want it to and if you have the right kind of confidence it can never be shaken. I miss you all more than you can imagine.

Love,

31 May 1943

Dear Dad:

I should have written you some time ago but lately I have been pretty busy and have to take time off to write. I hope you have read the book, for now you will have a better picture of my environment. I like it better here every day and if I don’t check myself, I’ll want to stay.

Tomorrow is my day off and I suppose I will play some tennis and loaf around the USO. I haven’t seen Dick yet but have had a letter from him. It may be possible that we can get together this month if something doesn’t happen to impact my arrangements. I’m glad you received all the pictures. Film is not plentiful but by looking around we can usually manage to find a roll. I know it’s a mistake to call this a letter but letters are not just a lot of paper of words.

Love,

6 March 1943

Dearest Folks:

I really am ashamed of myself for not writing sooner and oftener but it seems that something comes along every night to put off until tomorrow. And secondly, it is so hard to write a letter that I give up in disgust. Whether I write or not you know that I am always thinking of you. Artie Shaw who plays regularly in Honolulu at a service inn, was here today but as I expected it was impossible for me to see him, and I would have given two days wages. Tomorrow being Sunday I hope I can make it to the dance at the USO. I have increased my allotment, that is the cash allotment, to thirty-five dollars, or twenty dollars more than what it was, that was effective March 1, but it may be awhile before it begins to arrive. I hope the bonds have been coming regularly, and I understand that the government is putting into effect a new plan whereby so much of the delay and error will be eliminated. Until now it was impossible to get a pass for longer than about eight hours but lately longer leaves have been authorized, and I hope that soon I can take a three day pass to Honolulu by plane, or at least sleep in a full-sized bed for one night. In my new job I do office work, and occasionally use my shorthand although it’s hardly as good as it was when I was in the bank. A few days ago I used it in a court session, and I must have looked like a stockbroker during a slump, but I got most of it down and what is more important, transcribed. I hope you have received the things I sent by now. I really hope that you like the bridge covers, although regardless you would write in the affirmative. I received a letter, the two page one, from you yesterday and I was glad to hear that you went to Denver for a few days, but sorry, in a way, to hear that Tom was rejected. I hope and I really mean it, that Katie is very happy, that Tom is truly a right guy. I suppose that it is impossible to send the Free Press any longer considering the new mailing restrictions, so your letters should be twice as long. I hope you will forgive me for my carelessness, because I know the anxiety that you must feel. So long for a while.

Love,

4 January 1943

Dear Folks:

I guess a typewriter isn’t the approved method of writing a letter but I know you won’t mind so here goes. After I get through writing everyone else, I end up the evening writing you and making a composite of everything I put in the others. It’s amusing to watch the guys writing a letter. It’s really a job and most of the time is spent trying to think of something to write about, one sentence or so then a fifteen minute brain scratching. Today was a red letter day for mail—eight was the combined total and among them was a card from the Conklins and a card and a letter from Gracie and Louie. She didn’t intimate that they were nearing the rocks—perhaps everything has been smoothed over. Had a letter from Katie and she told me about the pajama and nightgown swiping. Said she’d never forget those first two nights.

On the first had a free day and spent most of it at a USO dance that was well stocked with she-males for a change. They last from one to five in the afternoon and usually the music is furnished by an army swing band. There are a lot of jitterbuggers and an oiled seaman or two are the life of the party. I guess this guy with the oversized arrow makes a living spearing fish. I saw them doing it one day but isn’t as glamorous as pictured and they don’t run around that raw. (Must be referring to the native spear fishing on the stationery).

I feel pretty good tonight. First there was a nice batch of mail and then I read about Halsey’s forecast of the war. For some reason I really feel that I’ll be out in another year and that really isn’t so long. I’m even looking forward to staying up all night next New Year’s. But right now it’s really hard to imagine wearing civilian clothes again and doing things on your own time schedule. When that day does come I think we’ll all go nuts for a while.

Had a letter and a picture from the gal in Washington but that was purely platonic and she was more of a conversationalist than a romanticist. But she was really swell and I don’t think I’ll ever forget her. She was a cook in the nurse’s mess hall and I miss the midnight meals we used to have.

I’m still reading some law books and have digested three so far but I don’t know how much I have gotten from them. At least it won’t do me any harm and it’s a worthwhile pastime in the evenings when I’m not writing to you. If I go back to school that’s what I’m going to study.

This is it tonight, what there is of it. Should have a letter from you tomorrow.

Goodnight and I’ll see you in the next letter.

Love,

15 December 1942

Dear Folks:

Five days have gone by without a letter to you so I better do something about it. I just inhaled two cream puffs and my stomach feels like a little man cleaning the inside of a locomotive boiler. Anyway here goes. I don’t know where to start, or what to write about that would be very interesting or different but maybe I can find something. On pass last Saturday went to the USO dance and watched two dozen girls get mobbed by two thousand soldiers. I left early—disgusted and disappointed. The only thing I did was eat a fair meal and listen to military music in a clubroom. Sunday failed to go to church, although attendance is encouraged and made possible.

Had a letter from Gram sent from Minatare. Gramp looks like a Southern revivalist and Gram the product of his preaching. The pictures came yesterday—what finery and rainment. They were good and they’ll always torture the seams of my billfold. A couple of the guys thought Dad was the guy with the ring. And Mom, you looked like you were going to a teenage waltz party. I should have a batch for you in a day or two. I don’t suppose the other packages have gotten to you yet. And the Reader’s Digest hasn’t come, although I have a notice of subscription.

I just finished Clarence Danow’s own life story and it recalled the days when Paul would let me revel in the mysteries of the typewriter book in Greeley. It’s a good book with many philosophies and ideals, but embraces many points of argument, of which I found plenty and wondered if I was right.

One of the most pleasing nights on the islands are the cloud formations. Sometimes they are fleecy and downy and form a collar around the mountain cones. But they are especially unique in the morning at sunrise and at sunset. The sun seems to permeate them and make them glow.

Last Sunday when I was driving I saw about five natives spearing fish. They go out about a hundred yards or so and have a spear that they handle like an arrow. I can’t figure out how they stay under so long.

This is all I can throw together this 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,

20 September 1942

Dear Folks:

It’s getting pretty dark to write but perhaps I can get it done before it is completely dark. I sent you a letter about a week ago by regular mail and I’m afraid you won’t receive it for some time, so thought I better write another. Well I’m a couple of thousand miles more away from home across a stretch of Pacific in the Hawaiian Islands and what a pretty place—lots of flowers, sugar cane and pineapple. Haven’t seen any hula dancers yet although they gave a show for the troops today. Last night heard a program of real Hawaiian music by some native Hawaiians and it seems much nicer to hear it over here. You’d go nuts Mom over all these flowers and shade trees. For the last few days have been swimming almost daily and this afternoon was no exception. It’s about two miles to the pool but it’s worth it, I mean the walk. Yesterday afternoon there was a dance in a big USO building in a nearby town and to my surprise we were granted passes so we took a bus in and swang a few. Boy what a conglomeration of people—Japs, Chinks, Hawaiians, Puerto Ricans and plenty of half breeds. I think I danced with about one of each. The USO has plenty of facilities for sports so not lacking on that issue. There are several tennis courts, swimming pools, dance halls, bowling alleys and ball diamonds and we’ve had access to them quite often lately. I just got back from swimming about an hour ago and after a big supper feel pretty good. It just started to rain so I had to pull this typewriter into a tent so from the cramped quarters you’ll have to accept a few mistakes. The day after we got here I received a letter from Gladys Davis and of course it was full of news as is Gladys. She told me all about the fellows and the Davis’. Then I also had a letter from you—one you had written before you visited me at (Camp) Stoneman. And a few days back had a letter from Patsy and her flamboyant style makes her letters worth reading. Also had one from Gram that I’ll have to answer tonight. I suppose there are plenty of details you’d like to know about such as crossing and place I’m at but that’s on the verboten list so you’ll have to ask me when I get back. Anyway the important thing is that you have a general idea of my whereabouts. Of course our letters are now censored but that shouldn’t be too much of a stigma although some of the fellows don’t exactly like to have some of their letters read. I’m as well as ever getting plenty of sunshine and exercise and a pass occasionally and all in all it reminds me a little bit of being back in California. Blackouts are every night so I hit the hay early unless I get a show pass. Beer is two bits a bottle and about as weak as pop, but it’s beer. Sleeping on the ground and boxing mosquitoes isn’t exactly home but there are plenty of places that could be worse. Anyway I’m getting used to it after the tenderness left my hips and I got to carving out some hip holes before laying down on my bed. Suppose Nancy and Phil are well along in school by now, with Nancy crazy about it and Dan taking it a little grudgingly. This is a little disjointed and unorganized but for lack of time I’m writing on something that comes to me. Now I’m back in the open again since it’s stopped raining but suppose it will start again. This is the first time I’ve thought about Christmas in September but we better be doing it in order that our packages arrive somewhere near the holiday. I shouldn’t have much trouble finding things over here that you would like. It hardly seems possible that winter is almost here again and that I’ve another birthday coming up but I guess it is. Looks like two Christmases away from home and if I could look forward to being home for it in 1943 I’d be as happy as if it were a furlough. There are some rumors of furloughs after a certain duration in the tropics, if this is considered the tropics, but I know little about it. That’s quite a ways away anyway. It was swell to see you for a few days in (Camp) Stoneman and it doesn’t seem it was a month ago. Bet I had an awkward look on my face when I met you in the visitor’s building. It didn’t seem like it was really you. Is Kate still in Denver and has she heard anything about the navy yet? In a way I hate to see her in the navy but I think it’s a pretty good deal for her. Running out of paper so better pull the curtain. See you in the next letter.

Love,

17 September 1942

Dearest Folks:

Perhaps I shall finally get around to writing you a letter after a lay-off of about three weeks now. Suppose you have been wondering where, what, when and how I am and I don’t know how much I can enlighten you now that Sammy has his eye over my shoulder. Anyway I’ll rattle along here and they can fix it like they want it, I could write a book on what has happened and the place I am at but just don’t know how much to include. Anyway we left, about [cut out] after you left, from Frisco traveling on the blue pacific about [cut out] and arrived in the Hawaiian Islands. The trip across was uneventful and uninteresting. We came in a huge transport and slept like sardines in the lower decks in sardine fashion. It was pretty hot as we got further south and I never sweat so much in my life. Every night on the transport after evening chow the troops held boxing matches and I wished I could have taken a picture of the guys packed along the decks and cramming every possible sitting space. The boat must have looked like picnic ants on a weeny. The food was pretty good but the galley was a sweat box. And contrary to my expectations I didn’t get sick but thought I would after I felt squalmish the first day. I saw only three or four that were sick. There was no excitement although just before we came into Honolulu Bay we were called to life raft stations and the boat ran around in circles and a couple of planes roared over us. I never saw so many planes in the air as there are here. From the boat saw the swanky hotels along Waikiki Beach and the famous Diamond Head which looks like an old crater. Believe me the islands are as beautiful and as much a paradise as I had expected. Wish I could tell you where I am and what it’s like around here. From the atmosphere and the scenery I’ve almost decided to snag a mate and take up a home here. Flowers are in profusion everywhere and to see the natives and orientals and the general atmosphere of things this is what I’ve been looking for. Last night the USO gave a show for us. Also there is a mobile canteen unit to supply sundries etc. Of course every night all the islands are blacked out so there is very little activity after dark. There are plenty of good swimming places around but so far haven’t gotten wet. The people in the town where I am at have two dances a week one for soldiers and one for civilians on Wednesdays and Saturdays so I’m looking forward to a little shag sometime. Dances are held from four until seven in the evening to conform with the blackout. I ate my first coconut from the tree yesterday and also got some fresh pineapple. The native boys brought them over to us while we were playing ball and fresh ice cold pineapple is really a treat. Coconuts are encased in a large ball of hemp covering and at first I didn’t believe they were coconuts, this is cut off and the coconut is revealed. Right now we are living in our pup tents which isn’t too comfortable. The first night we were without mosquito bars and the little devils chewed me all up but we’ve got ‘em now. All in all in some ways this reminds me of being back in California and we have about everything we had over there and I’m really contented. I truly hope we are stationed here for the duration but of course we have no way of knowing. Yesterday we went on a road arch down tree covered roads and sugar cane and pineapple fields on both sides. Flowers grow like weeds and with the broad slopes reaching to high mountains topped with fleecy white clouds presents a very peaceful and appealing scene.

As for my personal well-being I’m okay as usual and although it gets pretty hot during the day it isn’t bad enough to complain about. One of the next things I want to do is to get out in the sun and take a dip in the ocean. The evenings are pretty cool and easy for sleeping. The first couple of nights my hips were a little raw from sleeping on the ground but with a couple of hip holes now I knock ’em off like a tired baby. I hate to stop on this letter now when it may take so long for it to get to you so I better keep on about something. I’m having a struggle getting a hold of this Victory mail and I understand it is rationed to about one a week, but I’ll write twice a week so that you will get some letters fairly often. You better hit about the same schedule—little need I have to tell you though. The first day after we landed I got two letters—one from you that you had mailed before you left [Camp] Stoneman and one from Gladys Davis and she writes letters like she talks. Her letters are interesting and she gives me the lowdown on the fellows in the ’01 House of Davis. I’m going to hang on to these two letters until I get some more. We have a couple of portable radios in the outfit and at four thirty this afternoon listened to Kay Kyser—swell to hear some music. I ought to chop this off and shorn my beard before it gets too dark but I’ll take a chance on getting a calling down tomorrow morning—this is more important anyway. Better knock out a letter to Gram and one to Kate before dark too. Perhaps if you could give me Farley’s address I may be able to contact him although I’m afraid I’m pretty far from his.

Really Mom and Dad you haven’t anything to worry about, it’s really more pleasant than in California and not being able to run around in the evenings, although it may be boring sometimes, won’t hurt me any. When I think of some of the places I could have been sent I’m entirely satisfied and consider myself lucky. USO facilities offer every kind of sport and some like fishing that aren’t offered in the states. Sunday a troupe are giving a hula show of the genuine type. This isn’t to be regarded as tribal in any way but is as meaningful to the natives as kneeling in church is to you. Well I’m going to stop now and hope you get this in less than a month. Someday I’m going to see that you have a vacation over here and get a load of this place.

Aloha for now. Tell the family to sling a lot of ink. I had a dream last night. I was starting to school for another semester and it was very real. I’ll keep an eye open for that kimono. Red wasn’t it?

Love,

[recipe written on back of stationary in Harold’s handwriting]
1 cup vinegar in saucepan, rinse cup with water, 1 T. butter
Mix ¾ c. sugar
1 T flour
1 T cornstarch
1 t dry mustard
Salt and pepper
Yolks 3 eggs
1 cup milk
Pour into hot vinegar. Cool til thick.

22 July 1942

Dear Folks:

Time to write another letter while I’m goldbricking and while there is still some semblance of coolness in the air. Next Tuesday, a week from today we will be back in Fort Lewis and that won’t be too soon for me. Last Saturday and Sunday was in Yakima and had a good time getting my fill of dancing and good time. The place is about like Scottsbluff with eight some thousand people. There are plenty of places to go(to) and nice parks to go to. Also went to the Episcopal church, typical of most, covered with foliage and made of brick. Next Sunday and Saturday afternoon thinking of going berry or fruit picking. There is a shortage of workers so the soldiers are making up parties and picking in their spare time. Six thousand went out from Ft. Lewis last Sunday and there will probably be more this weekend.

Had a little excitement last nite when a seven foot rattlesnake attempted to share a fellow’s sleeping bag with him.

There are rumors that when our outfit returns to Lewis the cadre is going to Oregon and the outfit back to California. No word about furloughs. This morning we got a letter from an irate Montanan father who requested his son be granted a 30 day furlough. Of course it was turned down—impossible now.

Yesterday was a day of excitement and a little tragedy. It seems that C battery is a jinx for hard luck. Yesterday afternoon two cooks were burned, one seriously, when a unit in the stove blew up and sprayed gasoline all over the truck and the whole kitchen. The orderly tent is just a few yards from it and when it blew up we heard it first. Both cooks jumped off the truck screaming hysterically and flaming like torches. We threw blankets around them and rushed them to the doctor. Last nite and today one was given blood transfusions. The one most seriously burned happens to live in Yakima and can be with his folks. Before we got him out, two of his ribs were sticking out. That’s the first time I ever saw anyone so seriously burned and I was plenty jittery.

Later in the day we went swimming and when we got back we had to fight a prairie fire that was headed for the camp. The dust and smoke was so thick I could hardly breathe and it was one o’clock a.m. before I got to bed. The whole camp was there with trucks and graders and sprinklers and it was a great holocaust of excitement. Jeeps were tearing around like mad hens and bugles were blowing somewhere in the dust.

Guess this is enough for this time—going to a USO dance tonight if nothing else happens.

Some Red Cross women came around this morning with a station wagon full of cookies to put in our lunches. They wanted to see the stoves and help make the sandwiches so they pitched in. One lady went for a jeep ride and bounced all over the seat. We gave them about ten pounds of sugar and some grease.

Well see you in the next letter.

Love,

19 January 1942

Dear folks:

I just mailed you a letter only this afternoon but thought I’d write another because you have some questions. If you could only see me writing this letter you’d be quite amused I believe. I’m in a tent as you know and it’s nite and we are using candles until lights are installed. There are five in our tent but only 3 of us are here. Two are cutting wood for the little inverted ice cream cone shaped stove we have and I’m sitting down leaning on my cot with a candle sitting atop a tent stake being used as a candleholder. The fellows in my tent are attached to headquarters battery which includes a lineman, an artillery mechanic, the bugler, a driver and myself, assistant battery clerk. So we hear the bugle plenty good and loud. Our schedule now is reveille at 5:55 and calestinics at six fifteen and breakfast at six forty five. It’s a little hard getting started some mornings but exercises loosen up the kinks.

Now to get around to your letter and go thru it as the questions come up. The first item is the sweater, yes, a nice sleeveless sweater would come in handy. Several of the fellows have them. Olive drab or khaki is the best color. The next is the mail, it’s all coming thru okay I believe. I got the two bucks, the Free Press regularly and other mail. All but the box. The boys in the tent say that as soon as you put in a claim on it they will dig it up pronto. I’m very disappointed. If they do get it here and it appears mutilated and rifled, I’ll turn it over to the post office here. Now comes around reading. The USO is plentifully supplied with all kinds of magazines but the Readers Digest is about the only one I read. Until we get lights in our tent I can’t do much but currently I’m reading ‘The Fight for Life’ by Paul DeKriuf. It’s plenty good and an eye-opener as to the prevalency of diseases. About three weeks ago I applied for a city library card but it had to be signed by a city property holder and with the constant prospect of moving in a hurry it’s a little risky. No, we’re not getting any leaves yet. Just today I applied for a twenty four hour leave to Coronado but I couldn’t even get by the first sergeant to see the battery commander. I called Grandma yesterday nite and I think they are coming up again Sunday. June always wants to know if there is anything I need. Yep, it might have been me calling you that nite, from taps ‘till reveille. I think about home and all the family.

I went to church yesterday and I could remember most of the prayers without using the book. After the service a lady turned around and shook hands and asked me if I was an Episcopalian and when I replied ‘all my life’ she said ‘I thought you were’. She asked me to join the choir.

I guess that’s all the questions. I really feel swell and getting heavier all the time. I took some pictures today of me climbing up the tent trying to put on the last joint of chimney and keep from sliding down at the same time. Hope they are good.

Well goodnite Mom and Dad and don’t feel too low. I want to go back to school all the more now but we’ll see how things come out.

Better send me your pictures so I can set them in front of me when I write.

Love,