Friday, June 12, 2009

Letter 70- February 6, 1944

February 6, 1944
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Oi! Vot a day! Vot a week! My head’s spinning and my fanny’s dragging. It’s Sunday night and we’re all in a dither about the bivouac which starts at 5:00 tomorrow morning. They’ve had us on the run for the last 3 days so much that we haven’t had time to do nuttin’.

You should see me in my outfit. I look like sumpin’ out of the Klondike.

Everything’s been bivouac, bivouac, bivouac this week. I really don’t have anything much else to write about.

It’s going to be pretty rugged because the weather is getting warm and there’s mud and water everywhere, but then it’ll be fun because it’s pretty close to the real thing, and what’s better we’ve got a chance to get even with some officers from whom we’ve had to take a lot of crap in the past. Here’s the deal. Every night groups of officers from the camp form raiding parties, try to slip through our outguards, and raise hell inside our area. But! If we catch them—heh, heh. Other battalions have caught officers and made them strip out there in the cold. They caught the gas officer out there without his gas mask so they marched him right through his own gas. They told us that the more brass they carry the more we should rough them up. Boy will that be fun.

Since the last line the Lieutenant came in and told us what we’d do the first couple days. Ah—open time—it sounds more like a picnic that maneuvers.

Running short on time.



  1. Bill better hope he can stay dry. After the warm weather will come the cold.

  2. Bill certainly doesn't like the cold, but his spirits will no doubt improve if the men should "capture" an officer during the simulated night raids.


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