Geissen, Germany (Hesse)
Dear Mudder and Dad,
Well, if you wish to shoot me when I get home you’ve got a perfect right to do so. I’m afraid to think back to the night that I last wrote you a letter. It must be somewhere back into the distant past. At any rate believe this. I’ve received no letters from you since I last wrote. But today, however, I hit the jackpot again. Five letters from you and one from Richard. By the way, Richard seems to be getting to be quite the man about town these days and Ben also if what Richard says is true. I can’t point back to a spotless career myself and I’ve done things during the last two years that I regret now, but I’ve never allowed anything to run away with me. I’m afraid that’s what’s happening with them. This war has caused all of us to do things that we’d have never thought of doing before but it’s over now everyone ought to get a hold of himself. On the other hand it’s none of my goddam business and I suppose I should keep my mouth shut.
Oh! I almost forgot. I received two packages from you today also. I got one with the hair tonic and another with food. Thanks a lot.
Things are about the same as ever which to use a different phraseology means-“confidentially it stinks.” The weather here is so cold that you’d think that Giessen was somewhere near the South Pole instead of in Germany. This same old routine is getting me down. I’m actually having it easy but the way I feel now about the army and the entire set up over here I just don’t give a damn. They’d better get all the combat men out of here before long if they don’t want some pretty strong opposition to everything they do. We’ve taken the kick in the pants for years now and never said a word but times are changing now. Which, by the way, reminds me. I see where Shirley Temple’s husband doesn’t have to come overseas now because he’s spent 21 grueling and dangerous months in that hell hole Santa Ana Army Air Base. You can be sure that we’re all shedding tears of sorrow for him now that he’s missed out on that long vacation in the Pacific.
It reminds me of some of the stuff we must suffer when we go to the movies. Always the heroine looks horrified at the hero and says. “No John, not overseas already.” Hollywood dramatizes itself right into a pickle with the G.I.’s.
Another thing I know you will feel good about is that the unions are doing the same thing. Some of the G.I.’s are still pro-unions but the difference in attitude since 1943 when I came into the army is terrific. Labor at home certainly seems to be cutting its own throat. They want a lot of money in their pockets even if the nation’s entire financial structure comes tumbling down on it. They should get a load of Germany. Only a strict military rationing system is holding the currency up. Take that away and the money wouldn’t be worth the paper it’s printed on. I sure don’t see any advantage in making a million dollars a day if it takes a million dollars a day to live.
That about does it I guess. It’s getting late and I still have work to type up before I go to bed.
P.S. Note the date. Four years ago tonight I was saying, ‘It won’t last. We’ll clean ‘em up in short order.