February 14, 1945
(“Somewhere” as usual)
Dear Mudder and Dad,
Well, once again I am in a place where writing a letter is possible. I’m sitting in a comfortable room at a table with plenty of sunshine to write by—yes, I said sunshine. It seems as if spring has hit this country at last. Since I last wrote there’s been a steady rise in temperature; and now there’s not even a trace of snow left on the ground. It’s amazing how green everything has suddenly become. But inevitably with the last of the snow came the spring rains. Oi! Mud. I guess one must accept the bitter with the sweet. Anyway, today is beautiful. Temporarily, at least. I think of France without muttering something unprintable to myself. I can even see myself visiting this place again in the distant future.
(“Somewhere” as usual)
Dear Mudder and Dad,
Well, once again I am in a place where writing a letter is possible. I’m sitting in a comfortable room at a table with plenty of sunshine to write by—yes, I said sunshine. It seems as if spring has hit this country at last. Since I last wrote there’s been a steady rise in temperature; and now there’s not even a trace of snow left on the ground. It’s amazing how green everything has suddenly become. But inevitably with the last of the snow came the spring rains. Oi! Mud. I guess one must accept the bitter with the sweet. Anyway, today is beautiful. Temporarily, at least. I think of France without muttering something unprintable to myself. I can even see myself visiting this place again in the distant future.
I’ve got a laugh for you. I’m growing a mustache. As yet it doesn’t amount to much—maybe it never will--but you’d be surprised how much it makes me look like you, Dad.
As yet I’ve received no mail from you written later than the radiogram so I don’t know whether or not you’re receiving my mail or not. I sure hope so. I got quite a kick out of the clippings about Elliot’s pooch. Millions of men involved in such a desperate struggle and then that palooka can pull something like that—Jesus!
I’m surprised I haven’t received any more packages as yet since you mailed them all just about the same time. They’ll probably be along any time now.
I note by the paper that the 3 big cheeses have finished their “momentous” confab. I think we’d all be better off if all 3 of ‘em were in hell. I wonder if they ever really accomplish anything with these meetings.
The news these days seems damned good even if not as sensational as it was a week or so ago. However, the darned Jerries around here don’t seem too downhearted. They still shoot at me now and then.
I’ll close now with a gentle hint—How about a box of candy or cookies—subtle, huh? Lots of love—in fact.
Bestus Love,
Bill
I wonder what the issue of Elliot's pooch is. Could that be something about FDR's son Elliot? I believe he was a Naval officer.
ReplyDeleteI was stumped about Elliot's pooch too. If the story generated news clippings it makes sense that there is a connection to someone prominent like Elliot Roosevelt. Bill's sarcasm and his dislike of the Roosevelts also indicates that maybe his comment was related to Elliot Roosevelt's pooch.
ReplyDeleteI found an article for January '45. Someone shipped Col. Roosevelt's pet dog via airplane. This resulted in bumping three servicemen (not Secret Servicemen) in Memphis. Col. Roosevelt, the White House, and FDR had nothing to do with it. In reading the article, the media was no more interested in the facts then, than they are now.
ReplyDeleteThe more things change, the more they stay the same.
Interesting article, particularly in view of Bill's comments.
ReplyDeleteI have rarely or never read a newspaper account of an event in which I had personal knowledge where the facts were correctly reported in their entirety. Throw in politics and the accuracy rate declines even further.