Letter 253- November 8, 1945

November 8, 1945
Giessen, Germany

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Ye Gods! I just opened up my box of stationery and what was there but a letter I wrote a full week ago. Jesus! What a sap I am.

Well the worst has happened. I’m now no longer in the 100th Div. In fact I’m no longer in the Infantry. It’s a branch of the Quartermasters, the 1297 Labor Supervision Co. In short I’m in a Co. with the T.O. strength of—now listen to this—7—men—yes! One officer and 7 men (all non-coms). I’ll be either an acting 1st. Sgt., and or an acting Mess Sgt. or and acting Supply Sgt. Etc. Later the actual ratings will be open so maybe I’ll be getting a rating. I don’t know. The food here is divine. For dinner today I had, now listen, ½ fried chicken (large), French fries with tomato sauce, salad, strong black coffee (very good) hot rolls and all the ice cream I could eat (it was made with canned milk and eggs and tasted like Chapman’s 90 cent stuff. The work is negligible. What’s the catch? I don’t know when I’ll get out of here. We have 265 P.W’s working here on a rather large ration dump. They like the work and need little handling. The work, however, won’t be over until spring so I’ll be stuck here unless sufficient replacements come in. That’s the whole story.

My address is:
Pfc. W.W. Taylor, Jr. 19203811
Hq. 1297 Labor Supervision Co.
A.P.O. 758 ℅ P.M. N.Y.

We live in a factory administration building with steam heat, hot bath etc. Giessen is not a bad town but ye God’s so many roughnecks. We go out at night in groups naturally. We are a long way from Stuttgart now near Kassel. I shouldn’t say we. None of the old gang is nearby.

As far as the army goes, this is wonderful but I’d still rather be home.

I’ll have to close now.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 236- September 14, 1945

September 14, 1945
(Derdingen, Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,
This is the 3rd attempt on my part to write this letter. Let’s hope there are no more interruptions. Today I got 2 letters from you, Dad, which were postmarked on the 4th and 6th of the month. Pretty good but the questions that you asked made me wonder about something. You asked several questions that I know I’ve answered in the past. Also you complained that you were receiving only one letter a week from me. I kept track of the number of stamps I had used up until Sept. 1 over a months period of time and it totaled 12. That’s 3 a week on the average. The other fellows are also claiming that something’s wrong since one fellow who habitually has written a letter a night says only two or 3 a week have arrived in the States. Likewise the mail has not been coming in here. Over the 4 day period that I was in the hospital this company of 260 men received exactly 12 letters. Today mail was normal but there was no great pile. I don’t know but from now on I’ll number all my letters and I won’t forget it.

Big things have been popping while I’ve been away. I’m probably spending my last week in the 100th Div. With only 39 points as of V-E Day I’m scheduled for Occupation. That’s that. The 100th is going home sometime soon but nearly all its personnel is going like me elsewhere. Thirty men have been alerted to move Monday morning to the 29th Div. up in Bremen and there’s another list coming out that day and I expect to be on it. I seem to hold a very unfortunate position over here now and it’s up to the people at home whether we come home eventually or stay here and rot. I know what the army brass wants and it’s up to everyone at home to do what can be done.

If I must stay here I’d like to get a job of some sort in which I’d be doing something worthwhile. We’re all in a terrible mental state now.

I received your latest package today and it sure is goo –fruit cake, peanut butter, olives, etc. It sure takes the edge off the old appetite.

We’re going to use the German book in our class, but with things now it doesn’t make much difference.

You keep asking about Christmas packages but I don’t know what to say. In all probability I’ll still be in the E.T.O. Christmas but I can’t be sure.

That’s all for now. Retreat in 15 minutes.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 230- August 21, 1945

August 21, 1945
(Derdingen, Ger.)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I’ve gotten… (I love this word even if it is wrong) terribly behind in my letter writing again you see. I haven’t received a letter in several days but that’s not the reason why. I’ve just been too restless to write. It’s getting worse too. All anyone can talk about is when are we going home. Today we received a shipment of overcoats which didn’t make us feel any better. As the war comes to an end the men are beginning to assert themselves as citizens and the obedient attitude of soldiers is disappearing. It’s no breach of discipline or anything of the kind. No great task lies before us any longer, however; and the natural American independent feeling is returning. The officers used to say, “you must do this or that because of the difficult task that lies ahead.” What can they say now? As a result the men are becoming more outspoken in the Open Forums which the Army backs. We call it our “Bitch Session”.

While we were fighting some people said we’d be soon far more interested in public life, government and so forth; and we laughed. Where a man has a rather doubtful lease on life it doesn’t seem to matter. It does now.

Lately the chief bone of contention has been the sending of combat veterans from Europe to Japan for the Army of Occupation—the 95th Division in particular since the others saw very little action over here. There’s a deep resentment welling up in the various Armored and Infantry divisions over the lack of consideration they are getting. It’s making a nasty and dangerous division in the army between the forward and rear echelons, neither of which is really at fault. Some War Department heads, however, fail to recognize the difference between combat and non-combat troops. Maybe we’re wrong but we can’t help but feel that men who risked their lives, lived in misery and often as not spilled their blood are entitled to more consideration than those who merely had to do some hard work. Oh hell. Just wait ‘till I get to vote…….!

Now how af (that ain’t it)

Now, how about a nice package of candy, cookies and various other good things to eat. The food we’ve had lately has been fierce. First they put salt instead of sugar in the pudding & then somehow some lighter fluid got into the coffee the other morning. I was afraid to smoke all day.
Better say goodnight now.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 218- July 20, 1945 (2)

July 20, 1945-2
(Derdinger, Ger.)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Boy! Has it been warm around here. Up until 12:00 last night it was so hot that no one could sleep but then we had a storm and now it’s cool and not the least bit sticky or dusty. Thank “Golt” for that. Today we’re having our review and we must wear ties and Eisenhower jackets. If it had been a day like yesterday we’d have been roasted alive. As it is it’ll be a swell day for the review.

No mail again from you and I don’t like it even a little bit. In fact I might be led to say that confidentially it -----. Don’t you think so? I’m thinking of trying to write a letter every day now and number them like you do, just to see if the results are just as confusing.

The ration situation here is becoming acute. I’m down to my last pack of cigarettes. Last week D. Co. didn’t get their rations and this week they only got candy rations. I’m beginning to feel like a civilian. Old. Maybe they’re breaking us into civilian life the hard way.

Gee, it’s hard to write a letter when one’s not getting any mail. I can’t seem to think of one decent thing.

I’m still working on this educational plan. Probably by the time they get their fannies in gear the war’ll be over and my kids will be ready to get their education. That’s the war though.

How about a package, the usual thing: candy, cookies and so forth and please send me a couple of combs. My hair is going in 14 different directions. They have combs in Germany but if you put one in your pocket you’ll have a pocket full of teeth.

That’s –30—.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 213- July 15, 1945

July 15, 1945
(Vaihingen,Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Just get a load of that snazzy letterhead. Boy! Is old “Able” Company going highhat.

Regimental insignia is bursting forth all over the place these days. There’s one above the Co. C.P.’s door, at bn. C.P. and regt. They are about 8 by 6 feet in dimensions. Here the other day I crudely struggled to draw one of these for you and then they drag in the new stationery. How do you like this fine pointed pen. It would be swell if I only could write like a grownup rather than a five year old.

Well, they set moving day back again. Now it’s supposed to be Tues., that’s tomorrow, but I won’t depend on it. According to Stone our Jeep driver the place we’re going is better than this joint , but of course that’s not saying a great deal since we almost have to wear gas masks in this town.

Well, here it comes—how about a nice package from you all. You know what I want, candy, cookies, fruit juice, gum and so forth. And Dad, see if you can get me a new webb belt up at school. My old one was so caked up with French and German mud that it’s almost “kaput.” Socks and hankerchefs would also be appreciated. The supply room here can’t get anything for us so everyone is writing home for even G.I. stuff. Some situation, eh?

I hear over the B.B.C. this morning that the fleet is now becoming bold enough to sail right up to Japan proper and shell the very living daylights out of them. They’d better surrender while they still have something to surrender.

That’s about all for now.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 209- July 5, 1945

July 5, 1945
(Nürtgen, Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I is regusted. Today after waiting for one whole week for a single letter from you—and all in vain, I get two in which I’m berated as an unfilial offspring. I don’t know what the score is but I do know this is at least my third letter this week and that last week I wrote between 2 and 4 letters. That’s no kidding. Maybe after you wrote those letters of the 27th of June you did get some of my letters. I hope so.

The last few days we’ve been practicing for a regimental review. It’s sure a pain as every day is either ungodly hot or cold to the same extent.

We got a nice beer hall and as time goes on things begin to look better and better, but we move around so much that you no sooner get things all fixed up than you have to leave it all behind. That is laundry facilities and so forth.

Well, I see where you’d wished that I could be home for Christmas. Well, next July 4th would be a more likely date. If a few high officers are to be believed I couldn’t possibly get home before next Easter. However if the war in the Pacific should end sometime before then I don’t know.

I picked this copy of the “Beachhead News” up the other day and was surprised to see the entire paper was devoted to the activities of the 100th, but I was dumbfounded to see myself sitting atop an M-4 Sherman Tank racing across the Rhineland. It was quite something. The “Beachhead News” is the 6th Corps newspaper.

How about a nice package of candy, crackers, cookies—anything. I’m going to send these requests often now since the food situation here isn’t so hot. You won’t be able to act on all of them but at least you’ll have plenty of requests on hand. Packages are coming through pretty fast now so send me a couple of German grammars. What I really want is the light tan book “Deutsch für Aufanger” and a pocket dictionary. Also I would like my military oxfords. These boots are awfully hard on the dogs.

Well that does it.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 208- July 2, 1945

July 2, 1945
(Nürtigen, Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

“I ya in da depps uv despair”. I haven’t received any mail from you for 4 days. Woe is me. Properly speaking—I don’t like it! I can’t for the life of me figure out how they work this mail; 6 in one day then nothing for 4 days.

This probably won’t be much of a letter because I’m supposed to be paid in a few minutes but I wanted to send you something with the pictures I received today. The prints are not so good in Germany these days but I know you’d like to have them anyway. Most of them were taken in Göppingen last week while I was getting ready to go on guard.

How about a package with candy bars, cookies, etc. I’m horribly hungry these days and packages seem to be coming through in quite a hurry. If the bozo at the post office gives you any trouble tell him I’m a rough, tough guy in the E.T.O. with beaucoup Jerries to my credit. I won’t mind adding one postal clerk to my record when I get home. Mean, ain’t I?

How do you like the Beach Head News or haven’t you received it yet?
Well, gotta go now. I’ll write again tomorrow or on the 4th at least.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 184- March 21, 1945

March 21, 1945
(France)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Well, here it is the first day of spring. The weather is beautiful. For the last week the sun’s been shining bright, clear and warm. Last night it was foggy, but this morning it’s nice again. I haven’t been able to write much lately and you know why. The newspapers make that clear enough. You undoubtedly noticed the condition of the envelope on my last letter. It had gone through a battle and about 5 days inside of my helmet before I was able to mail it. But, as the French say, “Sessti la guirri”. One minute a person is neck deep in this “unpleasantness” and the next he is hardly aware that there’s a war going on. Right now is one of those occasions. Just loaf around all day and sleep twelve to fourteen hours a night (generally no one up here gets more than 4 or 5 hours a night) and three hot meals a day. Of course, it’s hard to say how long it will last but I’m satisfied. I don’t want “an egg in my beer”.

We’re not getting much mail nowadays but it’s understandable. I did receive one letter from you and another from Jess the other day. I had to pull out though and since no one can carry letters, etc., with them when moving I burned them. “Sessti la Guirri” or T.S. as we say in the army. However, Jess said she had sent me a five pound box of candy bars. She asked me in a recent letter what I wanted and I said a few candy bars and she really came through.

Gotta close now—chow!

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 183- March 14, 1945

March 14, 1945
(France)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Here’s another late letter, you see. I wrote one to you 5 days ago and was unable to mail it before it disappeared. I hate to keep you waiting for mail but that’s the way it goes. I’ve been back with the company now for several days.

I received a letter from you today, Mudder. The one acknowledging my acknowledgement of the first fruitcake you sent me. Now there’s a brainy sentence. It’s the first letter I’ve had in several days. I shouldn’t complain though. Last time I did get mail there were eight letters: seven from you and one from Jess. In the letter I wrote and lost I answered several questions for you. Now I haven’t got your old letters nor mine and I can’t remember what the questions were. Alas! Wot a life.

Anyway, when I returned from the rest area the other day what should be waiting but a package. It was the second fruitcake. Boy, oh Boy! Need I say more?

I’ll tell why it took so long for my November Bond to show up. You see I didn’t get paid for almost 3 months and when I don’t get paid the Bond doesn’t go through.

In a few days, if I get the chance, I’m going to send my combat I’m going to –what am I doing?? anyhow. I’ll send my Combat Infantry Badge home along with a couple souvenirs I picked up in the rest area. I’d like you to wear it, Mudder. You know, it really means “sumpin”.

I see where Bob Brewer was up at school the other day. I can’t understand it. I can’t write home about my outfit yet he seems to know more about it than I do.

Thanks for the compliment about my letterwriting. The Co. censor told me I wrote well the other day—not that it’s any of his business. I suppose he means well, however.
That about does it.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 173- January 27, 1945

January 27, 1945
(France)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Here I am again. Still hanging around. I’ve been having a pretty soft time for the last several days and I should have written more letters than I have. I guess I’ve been more or less in the midst of the reaction one generally feels when he’s back resting. All I’ve done is eat, sleep and listen to the news of the Russian advances. So far they seem amazing but I still have my doubts as to whether the drive will end the war. Everyone out here expects the worst and hopes for the best. It saves a lot of heartbreaks.

I’ve now finished the last of the edible contents of the 3 packages I’ve thus far received—a few candied peanuts—Oh me. That reminds me. I sure owe a lot of letters. I got one from Richard, Jesse, Mrs. Levinson, and then there’s your letters. I’ll try to answer them all today. By the way, Jesse also sent me a radiogram—had me worried when I first saw it.

I finally got paid the other day—first time since October. I want to send that old $40.00 check home now but the only way I can do it is to endorse the check and mail it. I don’t like that but if I carry it with me much longer I’ll lose it for sure. I think I’ll put it in this letter—I will. $40.00.

The next time I get paid I should draw combat pay and it’s barely possible that I may make P.F.C. before long. That would be another $5.00. If and when all this comes about I’ll change that $15.00 class “E” allotment to $30.00 or $50.00. If I change my bond allotment to $7.50 I can do that and still have a few francs for P.X. rations.

By the way, we got P.A. rations yesterday—2 cans of beer, 3 cigars, 5 Butterfingers, a box of gumdrops, a box of hard candy, and 6 pieces of Whitman’s chocolates. It’s too cold for beer for me so I traded them for candy. We’re supposed to get those rations every week but ha! ha! Everybody gets everything—That is, everybody but the frontline infantryman. I haven’t been eating so badly of late, however. Even had French toast this morning and I managed to do a little inveigling here and there.

Better close now. I’ll write again as soon as I can.

Bestus Love,
Bill

Letter 172- January 23, 1945

January 23, 1945
(Somewhere in France)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Hmm! It’s been 9 days since I’ve been able to write you a letter but I know you’ve been following the doings of the 7th. in the papers and know that the weather on this front has been miserable to say the least. We’re well equipped but one can’t write a letter when he’s covered with snow and ice and has a couple of inch thick mittens on his hands. Oh! This is a rough life. When this thing is over I’m going to slug the first bird who says “what did you do during the war?” Really. When I was in the Engineers I had no idea just how rotten a deal the Infantry got. I think the extra $10.00 they give us is a because there’s not one man in a thousand who wouldn’t give all his pay and more to be in any other branch. We have 10 times harder a life than anyone else. At least one can certainly be proud of being an Infantryman. Most people don’t realize it but the combat infantry badge means a “helluva” lot more than things like wings and so forth. One has to go through hell to get the former.

Now for some good news. My Christmas finally arrived. The day before yesterday I got a box of cookies from Grandma and Jess. Boy oh boy! That fruitcake was moist and as fresh as if it had just been made. It was delicious. The other box contained the compass, candy, gum, game, etc. it’s sure swell. The box from State College was full of cookies and I must say they were expertly packed. Not one was broken, although the box had obviously taken quite a beating. Half the box was full of Tollhouse cookies and the other half was full of ginger cookies with sugar icing. I passed out some cookies and a very few pieces of fruitcake to fellows who had given me some of their packages, but mainly I feasted myself on the contents. It was the best eats I’ve had since I left home.

Today I’m again back in a warm house toasting myself by a fire and generally enjoying myself. The best thing of all, however is catching up on my sleep. In a foxhole one sleeps 2 hours and then stands guard 2 hours. You know how that works out. No one gets any sleep at all. Even now I find myself waking up at regular intervals during the night. Lying on the cold ground really does your kidneys a lot of dirt too.

We’re supposed to get P.X. rations today—2 cans of beer, some candy bars and cigars, etc. I’ll probably trade my beer and cigars for candy. I like beer, but I like candy better and as for the lousy cigar……

We’re in the midst of a “helluva” lot of overoptimistic speculation on the outcome of the current Russian offensive. Rumors have been rampant for the last several days. As for myself I’m suspicious of all the claims that are being made. These things have blown up in my face too often.

I certainly wish they’d try a little harder to get some news to us. Battalion or somebody stole a radio somewhere and they get radio news but by the time it’s passed by word of mouth down to me it’s so garbled and exaggerated that it’s worthless.

Getting pretty near chow time so I’d better cut this short.


Best Love
Bill

Letter 170- January 10, 1945

January 10, 1945
(France)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I’m sending this airmail to you with the slight hope that it will make good time and save you a little worry. Even so it’ll be almost 10 days between letters for you and I realize that it’s an awfully long time. Really, however, it was unavoidable. In 3 more days I will have spent an entire month in a foxhole on the lines. It could have been worse but it certainly hasn’t been very pleasant. For the last 10 days the weather’s been godawful with cold and snow and to tell the truth I just couldn’t write. The mail I’ve received from you has been spotty for the last few days but in general it’s been coming pretty good. Yesterday I got V-Mails 50 & 51 from you Dad, however, I got a regular airmail from you, Mudder that was mailed Dec. 22 on Jan. 1. I think that about cinches it for airmail. T’ hell with V-Mail. I more or less have to use it out here but if they can’t do better than that there’s no reason why you should use the stuff. Still no packages but now’s about time to make a request. If you want I’d like to have those vitamin tablets and food anytime. Tell the postal people to let you send it or I’ll murder them personally. After all the waiting I’ve done on them already I don’t want any o their lip. I wouldn’t be surprised if packages mailed to this address wouldn’t get here before my Christmas stuff. If you think it would keep I’d like some of that orange bread. Oh! Hell you know what I like—candy, cookies, just almost anything good to eat. I won’t turn it down. Ha!

You should see the beard I’ve got. About 3/8 inch long and red. It would be even redder if my face wasn’t so dirty. You should really get a load of me. You’d probably disown me. I look sumpin’ fierce.

I’ve lots more to write but I’d better close for now. Hope everything’s “tolerble” with you.


Best Love,
Bill

Letter 166- December 26, 1944

December 26, 1944
(France; V-Mail)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

This probably won’t be a very long letter because it’s still pretty cold and my fingers will probably get stiff. Yesterday was Christmas, of course; but one would hardly know it. Still, for the front lines it wasn’t too bad. It was clear and sunny all day though the temp. hardly got above 32◦ all day long. We had a nice Crhistmas dinner (look how I spelled that) but there wasn’t enough. I got a neck. We had enough potatoes, cranberries, beets, raison pie, bread and butter, apple butter, & hard candy, however. Later in the evening I got 2 cans of American beer & some cocktail peanuts. Beer and peanuts is a good combination and I really enjoyed it. Then this morning I got a chance to buy 7 bars of American candy; Hershey almonds, Butterfingers, etc.—the first since I left England. I’ve only one bar left. You guessed it, no packages yet. However, one of the other kids got a nice fruitcake and gave me two nice pieces, and to overwork “nice” completely, I think it was damned “nice” of him. I figure that whenever the package comes that’s Christmas.

(con’t)

Letter 150- November 18, 1944

November 18, 1944
(France V—Mail)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Today’s Sat. and we’re supposed to have a holiday tomorrow. So far this week we’ve had the same silly training we had in England. Anything to get a guy all wet and muddy. Then after hiking about 15 miles during a day we came back to a meal that wouldn’t fill a cavity. All of which makes me think more about those boxes. I’ll probably get them sometime next Easter but I still can’t help drooling.

From what we read in the paper it looks like the big drive is on with 6 or seven armies going at once. I’ll bet there are a lot of “Krauts” who wish they’d never been born now. I hear that Wall St. is betting 100 to 1 that it’ll be over after the holidays. Hope so!

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 84- March 29, 1944

March 29, 1944
(Camp Crowder, Missouri)

Dear Folks,
I planned to make this a long letter but now I have a nosebleed and I don’t know.

Well, things are getting pretty rough around here. Radio code is getting worse and worse for me. It’s funny but I think I’m working harder for this than anything I’ve done yet I’m doing so poorly. I asked one of the officers about it and he said I was doing alright but that I was at a disadvantage since I received such a low score in the Signal test I took at MacArthur. I found out that certain of us in my class are guinea pigs. We are supposed to be somewhat inept at distinguishing signals, but under this new system they think they can teach us anyway. I hope so. I know I can make it if they give me time. I do have a lot of trouble, however. I’m taking your advice, Mother and not worrying. That’s the worst thing a person can do.

It’s certainly boring though. Radio sounds interesting but it isn’t. When receiving code a man becomes a machine. He automatically takes the stuff down and doesn’t even know what it is since it’s all in cryptograph.

XLCK WRMP YL4L etc.

The sets we have are practically useless as far as interest is concerned since they can’t pick up much. Between you and me it’s the nuts. I do want to succeed though. I haven’t failed in anything in the army yet and I don’t want to S.N.A.F.U. now.

The other day we had a big inspection by the Chief of the British Signal Corp and a lot of other officers. It was the usual “baloney”. We had to pretend we were new students and everything we did was rehearsed. The Eng. general was supposed to get a true picture from that----Phooey!

As you know we have an hour of basic every afternoon after school. The boys are now on an Engineer Specialty, “Booby Traps”. These poor guys won’t have a chance on the battlefield. Just about everything they teach there is wrong. The cadre here knows nothing about such things but they get sore if you try to tell them anything. I shoot off my mouth anyway. I’ll be damned if I’ll let ‘em give these poor guys a bum steer that may kill them. The rest of the Engineers feel the same way. They should teach them only 2 things about booby traps-how to recognize and mark them, and then HANDS OFF. I’ve had a lot more experience with explosives than these guys will ever have and I wouldn’t fool with ‘em. I’d let the demolition men handle them.

Boy! I’m sure hepped up over those cookies---drool! Talking about food I bet you’ll be surprised to hear that I’ve become a tea fiend in the last 6 months. Ain’t it a laugh?

Congratulate Ann for me on becoming a citizen.


Best Love,
Bill

Letter 69- February 2, 1944

February 2, 1944
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)


Dear Mudder and Dad,

Wot a week this has been! Whew! I might as well begin at the beginning and maybe you’ll see why? On Monday we were issued out bivouac equipment—over $400.00 worth of equipment. I got special heavy all wool kneelength stockings (each pair is as heavy as my civilian oxfords) special boots with 3/8 inch felt insoles, waterproof pants, wrist length heavy field jacket, heavy sweater, a 50% angora wool ¼ inch thick muffler that must be worth about $10.00, a fur coat (squirrel or rabbit or sumpin’), a heavy reversible parka with hood, wool lined hunting type hat, 2 pair of wool mittens which go inside a pair of leather mitts, a special pack and a sleeping bag. Wooie.

Tonight I signed up for a furlough. That’s no sign I’m going to get one but it’s a step in the right direction.

I received your packages. The cake was delicious and the socks will be plenty handy. Thanks a lot.

I’m awfully tired now. I know this isn’t much of a letter but it’s the best I can do tonight. I’ll try and write again tomorrow.



Best Love,
Bill

Letter 63- January 20, 1944

January 20, 1944
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)


Dear Mother & Dad,

Boy! Does time fly in this bloomin’ army. It seems that the weeks are flying by like rabbits lately. Only 5 more weeks to go including bivouac. I wish the first 6 weeks had gone by like that. Oh well! That’s past history.

This is the damnedest country around here. This morning it was so bitter cold I almost froze in spite of a mountain of clothes, but by afternoon the temperature was up to 70°. It’s the first time I’ve seen warm weather since I left good old California.

Today we finished floating bridges. About all we have left in our course is one 23 mile hike, fixed bridges and rigging—that’s not counting the bivouac which is really not part of our regular basic.
I tried again to see whether or not I could get those pictures for you but they seem pretty damned unconcerned down at the studio. Talking about pictures I’m having a “hellofa” time getting my film. Another thing, I noticed was my camera doesn’t have a spool in it so I won’t be able to reset the films even after I get them.

I sure wish I could find out what my future is in this army. They do everything in such a highhanded manner that it burns me up. When the war’s over and I’ve got my discharge there’s a couple of noses I’d sure like to punch. By the way, you should hear some of the sentiments expressed by the boys around here on how the country’s being regimented. No wonder Roosey doesn’t want the soldiers to vote.

That orange bread sure sounds good. In fact anything you can send—even white bread or a bottle of pickles I’d really appreciate. One kid’s folks even sent him a loaf of rye bread and a little jar of peanut butter. Don’t bother to go to a lot of trouble to get candy, however. That situation is much improved and now I can probably get it easier than you. And for gosh sakes don’t you use a lot of ration points to make stuff for me.

I’ll write again for sure tomorrow night. We’ve got Guard Duty and can’t leave the Company area.

All my love,
Bill

Letter 62- January 16, 1944

January 16, 1944
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Well, here it is Sunday again and I’m all excited about the bracelet. I really should get it today if it was supposed to be here by Friday or yesterday. Of course, one must take into consideration the damned way in which the lousy Post Office here works.

I damned near laughed myself to death when I read about the Higgenses in your letter, Mother. Isn’t it just like those knotheads. When I got to the part where she said maybe the good Lord would reach down and get them all I nearly had a fit. I can just see the old gal.

Well, we finally got the best of that bunch of bums in the kitchen today and are we happy. You know we’ve been getting cold cuts and damn near nothing (else) for the last couple of weeks. Well, today some fellows took some milk off an empty table so they’d have enough for cereal and coffee. The head cook got all burned up and said we’d have to eat out of our mess kits at dinner, so we just went to the Service Club for our meal. The Cap’t., who’s a really swell fellow heard about it and sent for a couple of men to go down and explain the situation to him. After that he gave the kitchen staff hell so maybe now we’ll get some decent food.

I liked your poem very much, Mudder. We’ve some here in camp that are pretty popular too but I won’t dirty up the mail. I’ll finish this later.

Well, it’s later now—a whole lot later—a whole day later. You probably think I’m a “hellava” pill, and I don’t blame you a bit if you do. When I was working like a dog and had hardly a minute to myself I still managed to write but now that I’ve got plenty of time I don’t.

Today the bracelet arrived. It’s really the nicest one I’ve ever seen. I’m so proud of it I’m about ready to burst my buttons. I showed it to my lootenent a little while ago and he just turned green with envy. I’ve still got the 45 bucks in the company safe but have been unable to get to the Post Office with it due to the funny hours the jernt has.

Bestus love,
Bill

P.S. Ain’t that a hellova way to end a letter.

Letter 61- January 13, 1944

January 13, 1944
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)


Dear Mudder and Dad,

I just got off K.P. a few minutes ago, and when I dragged myself into the barracks I found your letter of Jan. 9, Mudder. I really didn’t feel like writing but seeing how I’ve been shirking my writing lately I thought I’d better get at it. I’ve been getting mail as regularly as clockwork again now for several days. It’s been a lot better that way.

You were wondering when my basic would be up. I thought I’d already told you but evidently I didn’t. The last day of training is Feb. 26. After that we go to the “Casual Company” where we go on detail for an indefinite time—anytime from three days to three weeks.

They moved me out of headquarters barracks to the first platoon barracks just so everyone would be in the same place. That’s all.

Those meals you mentioned, Mudder, about the hamburgers and fried potatoes—rabbit, squash and moulded salad made my stomach do flip flops. I hardly remember what good food tastes like anymore—and one thing more when I get home, please! Puleeze! No lamb. I don’t think I could stand it. I bet we have lamb or goat as we call it about 8 or 9 times a week.

I got quite a laugh out of the “Sentinel” you sent—especially the protest over having to stay after school 45 minutes on Thursdays. The student in righteous indignation demanding his rights—when I read that I’d been working like a slave, for 16 hours straight. It’s funny how ones point of view can change in a few months. Last year I would have been just as sore about losing a little of my free time, but now I’m glad and thankful if I can get just 5 minutes to myself.


Bestus Love,
Bill

Letter 59- January 10, 1944

January 10, 1944
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)


Dear Folks,

This’ll be a surprise to you—2 letters in two days. Maybe I’m getting back into the old routine. Anyway there was no good show tonight. Oh! Oh! Shouldn’t have said that that.

Today we went out for bridge building the first time. We learned the ground work for building a 25 ton ponton bridge. The work is pretty interesting, but I’m afraid I’ll never be any great shakes as a pick and shovel man. I ain’t got the talent.

After we did the bridge building we tried out the new embarkation tower. It’s set on pontons and looks exactly like a section of a ship with debarkation nets hung over the sides. We come up in assault boats and then climb up the nets about 3o feet to the deck. Then we climb down the other side into another boat which carries us to shore. All the time this is going on a speed-boat rushes around stirring up waves which rock the whole works violently. We went over it twice—once without equipment and once with rifle, pack and gas masks. I’m all bumps and bruises.

How did you like the picture. Lousy, huh? It was the only one that came out at all. At least I think that I look better than anyone else in the damn thing.

Well, A.S.T.P. is a thing of the past. Why I couldn’t get anywhere with it is “poifectly” clear. Yesterday night they posted a notice that stated that no more A.S.T.P. applications would be accepted in this camp and that those already appointed would have their A.S.T.P. cancelled—period. Ain’t it the craps.

My cold has completely broken although the temperature hangs around 20° even in the afternoon and is down to 0° in the mornings. We’re getting to the point where we walk around in shirt sleeves if the temperature gets above 10°--no foolin’.

I’m getting hungry. I think I’ll go over to the P.X. and get some ice cream.

Auf Wiedersehen
(HOT STUFF)
Bill