Violin 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,

12 September 1944

Dear Folks:

The mail boat came through today and I rated five – not a bad take. Mom’s two letters were full of quite a bit of interesting stuff and I thought they deserved an early answer so here I go. Also got the pictures of Stevie – boy he looks like a real jewel and you don’t know how much I would like to see him. I had wished that Katie would have been in one of them but maybe I can get one of her later. It’s no wonder you are so proud of Stevie and I’ll (bet) he’s created the biggest stir in the household since our last baby – I mean yours. Well guess I’ll take out your letters and use them to get some ideas. First I’ll write about Dick. I first heard he had been injured when a fellow from our outfit came from Saipan and said he saw Dick there. I didn’t know how bad he was hurt so immediately made arrangements to get over (there). When I saw him he looked good and was having life easy on a cot with sheets – white ones too. He told me what had happened and made me promise I would write nothing about it to you. He was afraid you would become unduly worried and no matter how much we would try to say it was only light injury, you would still be very upset. So I said okeh although I thought we should tell you. He was hurt while rounding up groups of snipers still holding out in the limestone caves on the northern end of the island. His group suffered heavily and he was lucky to get out. He was caught and forced to hug the ground for two hours while they got him out. Of course there’s a lot more to it, but someday he’ll be able to tell you – if he will. You wondered where he got hit. He had pieces in his feet, his legs and two in his back, and also well er—he got a piece that missed his private parts by a fraction of an inch. He laughed about that, and joked about what might have happened. You can imagine. And oh yes, they have American nurses – quite a few of them. The day I visited Dick it was rainy and muddy and they were running around in slacks and GI shoes, more like doughboys than women. They were the first white women I’d seen since leaving Oahu. Also at the hospital they have Chamorro girls working. They are very shy and modest, but soon pick up some common GI slang.

I sent the souvenirs home about the 6^th or 7^th of August but I think I told you about that. I insured them, so if the box don’t break up you’ll probably get them alright.

I don’t hardly know what to say about the Christmas deal, but you know since I’ve been here what I’ve missed quite a bit is fruit juices. So put in a couple cans of tomato juice, some orange juice, and something like that. Also any other canned treats that you think I might like – maybe chicken, olives. Right now I’d give a fortune for some of that stuff. And I would like to have you buy Dick a watch like mine with my compliments – I’m afraid his would break up with what he has to do, and one like I have would be just the thing. I would also like to have a birthstone ring, and a couple of watch straps – they go fast in this damp climate. And rather oddly maybe some pictures of home from the outside and some inside ones too if you can get them. I always wonder how the different rooms must look now. A cigarette lighter that will work in the wind with some flints would be a good thing. I know they are hard to get but perhaps you might run across one. A couple of good card decks. And here’s one—some licorice. This must sound like the flimsical whims that come over pregnant women but I would be glad to get any one of them. And also stick in a law book. Gram got my last one from a publishing company in Minnesota – I wish I could give you the exact name but I can’t think of it. I want one on Torts. You know I sure miss the books I left behind but they would be badly beat up if I had brought them along. I get so impatient for the war to get over so that I can get in a position where I can study it for good. I’m going to get Dick by the ears and if nothing unforeseen comes along we’re both going back to the University and take advantage of the tuition and expenses deal. The two of us would be eligible for $118 a month and we could get along famously on that. That would be considerably better than my first year I spent there although it was a year I wouldn’t have missed. I think Dick would be glad to do it.

I wished you and Dad would have stayed in Denver and had a good time and I’ll bet the telegram changed your plans. When I get back we’ll go away for about a month into the mountains and be the damndest laziest people you ever saw. It’s always been one of my wants to take you two someplace where there wouldn’t be anyone to bother you.

Well Mom I think I’ve answered all the questions I can. You know I guess I’m a screwball but I miss my fiddle and when I hear some good music on the radio wish I could pick it up and piddle around with it. But I can never listen to any good classical music because everyone else wants swing. The office has been humming despite our field conditions, and it would certainly be a relief to be able to get away for a while.

One thing I did overlook. Word flashed around partially rumor and partially fact that the army was developing a point system whereby the ones with the most points would be released first – after the defeat of Germany. It works on the plan of service, overseas service, dependents, and medals with so many points for each. Lately it has become as socially important to know how many points you have as it is to wear shoes. It is the high ranking subject around here, as it must be in all outfits but I can’t see myself being released until it is over.

I started to finish once and maybe I will this time. Jack showed me a clipping of the letters in the Free Press and I didn’t think they were so long. Jack sent you some pictures of us that are pretty good and I’m fortunate to be near him.

I guess this is the final act but I won’t say goodnight or goodbye this time, just lots of love and a toast to a quick end of this mess.

Love,

4 October 1943

Dear Folks:

I guess I better write when I have a little more than the ordinary stuff that goes in my letters. In the first place, last night I saw a stage production of ‘MacBeth’ that was very good and superbly acted. Although it was a GI show and put on by the Special Service office, from what I’ve heard it would match about the best performance anywhere. As far as I can remember this was the first I’ve seen of the legitimate stage and from what I saw I would like to see more. I bought an autographed copy that I will send later and will give you a better idea of what I (am) talking about. You must think my life over here is about all filled up with good times and more like a vacation, but that isn’t the case. As a matter of fact this morning I saw a Ranger course demonstration that I will go through later. But the difficulty of the course and the hard work that will come didn’t interest me as much as the talk that the office gave before the demonstration. He is a veteran of Guadalcanal and other places in the South Pacific and what he stressed constantly was the necessary mental self-confidence and attitude. But all the atrocities and tricks that he said about the Japs didn’t affect me as much as all the mental conditioning that was necessary. Although I guess he’s right it all rubbed me the wrong way. I would hate to see myself with everything he says we should have. Well anyway if I get through the obstacles all right I should be in pretty rugged physical condition, although I can’t imagine myself being much of a commando.

On the lighter side of life I picked up the fiddle a while tonight and scraped through a few of the numbers I used to hack at a few years back. It had a good effect and made me feel like I wasn’t so far from home.

I’ve been hanging on for the news of Katie and I suppose that by now everything is well along. It sure seems like a long time since you first went to Denver.

Well I better get to bed early tonight. I’ve a big day ahead, as a matter of fact I’ll probably be dragging in like a wet rat. I never know exactly what to say or add as a last line but I guess I can best sum it up by saying I miss all of you so much that every night a lot of memories and things pop up in my mind that I didn’t give thought to before.

Love,

26 September 1943

Dear Folks:

I should be following something more ambitious this morning, but I’m not, so I’ll spend the time writing you a little letter. This is Sunday and it seems like you can always somehow know its Sunday even without a calendar. This is my duty day so that means staying in the office and a good chance to catch up on delinquent correspondence and reading. The wind is blowing like a chilly day in March back in Minatare but the ocean and the sun make the day a nice one. Remember how I used to mention the flowers when I first came here—well, it’s that time of the year again and the island is putting on its best coat.

As the bond drive is carried out with you so is it here. The Army is putting on the pressure to meet certain quotas and at the present the office is pretty busy with these new allotments. The islands have always met their quota well over and I think they stand fourth or fifth in the whole country. I remember when I was visiting the Sisters at the convent, the school kids were having a drive and somehow they managed to scrape enough together to buy several thousand dollars worth. With the preponderance of Japanese I think the islands set a record to be proud of.

I suppose you read of Mrs. Roosevelt’s Pacific tour and know that she stopped in Honolulu on the way back. We listened to her speech from Honolulu and in my opinion there was a lot of it. She must be a great woman.

I finally got off a letter to Dick last night. Geographically we are not far apart but actually it might as well be a couple of thousand miles. In another three months I will be due for another five day pass, and if the next three (months) pass as fast as the last three, that won’t be very long. I hope he is adapting himself to his new conditions okeh and doesn’t get too depressed or downhearted at times. I think they keep him busy enough that he doesn’t have time for that.

I was glad to hear the Gramp bought the place east of town. I’m always in favor of real estate and in addition the farm should offer them about all that they have been wanting for so long. Stopping to think of it, there have been a lot of changes since I left two years ago. New babies, husbands, deals, and the rest that comes with time flying by. And of course these happenings are all the more incentive to get the war over in a hurry (to) find out these things first hand. I sometimes wonder that if perhaps from my letters you catch a change in my attitude or opinions that differed from what they were before I came into the Army. For the average soldier I certainly don’t think that Army life is conducive to initiative or encourages free thinking, and in many cases produces inferiority, but then all this is, is a job.

Last week the band sergeant asked me to play the fiddle with the dance band in a trio of strings, but my usual obduracy has prevailed so far. It would take quite a bit of time for practice etc and that would be in addition to my regular job.

I’m going to call this good for this communiqué—am I an uncle yet?

Love,

19 August 1943

Dear Folks:

Again I’ve let the time go by without writing you as often as I should and I hope you haven’t worried about it. Part of it was on account of the book that just came—the one you sent. I was on a hike when it came and when we got back I didn’t feel so good but the sight of the package on my bunk made me forget my physical ailments. So since that day I have read it some every night and when I get going on it, neglect to write as I should. I can’t tell you exactly how good I felt about getting it or thanking you for sending it, but I know I’ll always hang on to it as a treasure. And then besides occupying myself with the book we have our bridge games that are rapidly developing into teams of severe competition. I think my game is improving but you can test that when I get home. And golf is something again that I indulge in occasionally. Although my rounds aren’t so frequent we usually manage a nine (hole) about once a week, with rented clubs. I can’t help but remember the times when I so assiduously tried to be a golfer on the hometown course that was really little more than a glorified pasture. The first time I played on the course here I must have looked like an unconscious duffer in the movies. Some of the fellows on the course play without shoes, as they do everything else, and recently the winner of a tournament was a barefooted fellow.

Probably I’m an uncle now and the sooner the better. It’s a good feeling to know that the Moss’ are still growing. Katie hasn’t written for quite a while but then I don’t expect her to, I just want to get an announcement.

I hope you had a good vacation full of a lot (of) leisure, for you certainly deserve one if anyone does, and I hope in the future that you will both have your full share. We were talking about Denver in the billet the other night and nice to have someone else familiar with the place as I am.

This was Sunday but nothing unusual or much to write about. And thinking of church on Sundays, I must repay a visit to the Sisters at the convent. It has been sometime since I was there, but even though they do insist, I hesitate, I suppose for no good reason. The Father is a Belgian, a hearty, witty fellow, with a guttural booming talk, that always makes you feel that you are his best friend. The Sisters, via the grapevine I guess, became aware that I torture the fiddle a little and always attempt to force a number but I remain obdurate. Occasionally I go borrow the violin, but with no privacy, I keep pretty well in check.

One of the fellows in the billet is taking an extension course in economics and with him studying his subject and myself usually reading the law book, we are almost ready to inaugurate a study period. I think the promotion you mentioned will be forthcoming, as a matter of fact, I think it may be even better than that, and although my patience grows thin at times, I guess that is a perquisite to all of them. I believe this is all I (can) scrape together tonight, and I will write again soon. Thanks again for the book and now I’m itching for the next one to arrive.

Love,

9 June 1943

Dearest Folks:

I just finished a good game of bridge after making a few blundering mistakes. You can imagine what kind of a player I am from the sessions we used to have but we have a good time and to make it a little more interesting put two bits on a rubber. Only twice during the game did we bid under two. I guess bridge games aren’t too interesting a subject to be writing about so I’ll get on (to) something else. I had a letter from Dick today and our negotiations for a meeting are progressing pretty favorably. From the tone of his letter he wanted to see me pretty bad and was trying to fix things up for a good visit. His whole letter had a greater feeling of softness than his usual style and mentioned how badly he would like to be home again. He also thought it was pretty swell about Kate going to have a baby, and he said to be sure to bring along a camera.

I had your letter with the clipping about Jim now being a lieutenant in the Air Corps. I always thought he was the best real friend I ever had and I’ll always look forward to meeting him again after the war. He looks about the same as ever in the picture, maybe looks a little older. I always like to hear about the guys, what they are doing and where they are and then thumb back to the days when we went around together. The war better end in a hurry I feel like I’m getting old and missing some good times.

Tomorrow is my day off but it will probably not be any different from the other pass days. I do go out about weekly with a gal that works in the hospital, but she is nothing to whistle about and she’s pretty dumb. Last Sunday our battery had a dance in a gym nearby and I did have (a) pretty good time although the ratio of guys to gals was about ten to one. Before the dance they ate with us in the mess hall which was papered up with streamers. We all preened up like Sunday School boys on children’s day and I really felt like one. Our own dance band in my opinion is very good so when I couldn’t dance I could listen to the music. One of the boys has a fiddle and occasionally I borrow it for a brief brush up but the privacy is practically nil which doesn’t mix with my modesty.

I should write several more letters tonight but I can’t make myself get going so I’ll probably end up going to bed early and putting them off another night. Well I hope that by the time you get this I will have seen Dick, so I’ll draw the curtain here.

Love,

The pictures are two attempts at the sunset.

13 May 1943

Dear Folks:

To answer your letter that came today and in better time than most, I am probably thinking of the same thing that you are tonight and that is how soon I can see Dick. I wrote to him a few days ago but so far haven’t received a reply. There is no use in telling you how much I’m chaffing because I can’t see him right away. I was thinking the other night (of) how many letters you have to write and how busy you must be to keep up with our demands. Probably you have written more the last two years than in your lifetime. I’m really glad to know that you bought the Buxby(?) house and nothing must ever make us give it up. Asking me the other night about being a bachelor, that reminds me of the dream I had last night. I was spending my money for house furnishings (in) prepatory to getting married. Quite a pleasing dream but seemed a long way from reality.

You said in one of your letters a while back that you had some negatives of Dan and Carol. I would like to have one of their pictures very much. Last night I played bridge but it was a bad session. Tonight there’s a fellow sitting opposite me slapping a guitar with great gusts but not so bad, so perhaps my tastes are depreciating. Tonight I borrowed a fiddle for a few minutes but it had such a dull flattened tone that I returned it soon. I even felt a little sentimental, recalling the first day I stood with nine others and began my lessons, and then remembering further the symphony at Nebraska and the brief luck I had at forceful and sensuous music. I guess this is the end of another episode. I’m afraid the cable arrived too late for your big day but I hope it conveyed some of my thoughts of you.

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,