Monday, February 16, 2009
Letter 19- November 5, 1943
November 5, 1943
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)
Will wonders never cease? This afternoon I’ve got a little time to write a letter. Last night I didn’t have time to even write a note. I know how much you want to get a line every day, but I’ll be darned if I had the time. I haven’t had any mail from you for two days now so I know how it feels. I imagine it’s the fault of that goddamned son of a bitch of a Co. clerk over in the 53rd. He probably just doesn’t want to take the trouble to send it across the street over here. It would take me only five minutes to go and get it but they want to make things difficult, I guess, so I can’t even do that. What I’m worried about is that package (there’s nothing I wouldn’t put passed that clerk). I’d better get it though or there’s going to be hell to pay because if I must I’ll take (it) right up to the company commander.
Things have been as strenuous and yet boring as hell. March-march-march-run-run-run-freeze-freeze. I’ve got a peach of a cold in my chest and throat, but I think it’s beginning to break. This morning we had extended order drill and although all the snow from last week has melted, there were sharp ice crystals al over the ground and I just about cut my hands to pieces. This sort of thing goes on all the time. When we get through with this training we’re going to be pretty tough babies.
There’s really nothing else very important to write. Most of what I’m doing right now is merely a violent reproduction of what I learned at Harvard¹. One thing I can truthfully say though is, to quote Mother, “I ain’t never gonna like this war!” There’s one thing all this is doing for me, however; and that’s making me appreciate home. When I think of how great a brat I was when I was home, it makes me sick. What a pile I was! The things I used to gripe about having to do. God, what a idiot! That’s one thing you can be thankful for when I get home. No matter what you want me to do I’ll do it without a word. Oh! Oh! Gotta close, dammit!
Notice the date on the head. I’ve been in the bloomin’ Army just a month & a day. It’s the longest month I’ve ever spent.
Write all the news from home.
All the Love in the World,
1. Harvard Military School. Harvard was an exclusive school for boys in Los Angeles. Bill’s father, William Wellington Taylor, Sr., was the head of the English Department. He retired in 1957 after 36 years at the school.