Letter 281- February 25, 1946

Giessen, Germany (Hesse)
February 25, 1946

Dear Mudder and Dad,

After I finished last night’s letter I reread the damn thing and debated whether or not to tear it up. It seemed to me terribly unbalanced and inher—that is incoherent. However, since it was one of the most difficult letters that I ever wrote and I had spent about three hours on it I decided that I’d send it anyway. I hope that you don’t think it is too insane or merely the usual blah that fills young kids minds. At any rate I promised that I wouldn’t say any more about it and I won’t.

Today is the most glorious sunshiney day that I’ve seen in Europe. The sun is so bright that I think I’m back home. It’s quite warm after the snowstorms that we’ve had the past week and this is the first day since I can remember that I’ve been able to hang out my bedding. It’s really swell. I didn’t know that Germany was capable of such weather. I guess I shouldn’t complain about Germany though. The weather here is about ten times better than it is in England and “sunny France” is not much better than England. By the way, Giessen means gushing rain literally so I guess the weather here is not exactly like the Mohave Desert—That’s Mojave isn’t it?

There seems to be some indications that our company may fold up before very long and I don’t know where we’ll go. I’ve always hoped to stay right here until I get my travel orders but it looks now as if we may move. Of course, it takes so long for these birds at our center to do anything that God knows when they’ll get going. This past week I’ve spent most of my time closing out our DEF files so that leaves us with nothing to do. I only wish that they’d be a little more definite about what they are going to do. There are people I would like to see before I leave and I’m always afraid that we’ll get a sudden order to leave while all our clothes are being washed or some such thing. It’s the usual procedure.

We’re waiting on pins and needles around here to see what the point business is going to be next. The next change will make it possible for me to know exactly what they are going to do as far as I’m concerned. They may wait until the Ides of March and then take everyone with 45 points and above or they may take 48 and 49 pointers first and others later. According to the paper today they’ve got the redeployment schedule behind time again.

Just lately I’ve got the darndest curiosity about things at home. I really can’t wait to get back and see how things are. According to the way the fellows who just got here talk things must be in one helluva pickle. I don’t mean that things are bad but that everything is in a big hubbub. I’m beginning to realize now that I’ve been in Europe too long to really have a good picture of things back there. I remember looking back from the Queen Mary as Sandy Hook disappeared and I wondered how long it would be until I saw the ole U.S. again. Now as the time draws near I’m getting restless as hell. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into a hamburger again. Oh Boy! I guess I’m getting a little ahead of myself but I still can hardly wait.

I guess that’s all for right now. Sooooo


Best Love,
Bill

Letter 268- January 10, 1946

January 10, 1946
Giessen, Germany (Hesse)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

During the last several days I’ve been holding off on my letters just to see what would happen next. I have here in this letter the headlines of the Stars and Stripes for the last several days I really think that they are beauts. Today when some—I can’t write what I’m thinking—wrote in the New York Times that the soldiers are making unwarranted use of the freedom of speech in order to make their complaints, I really felt my blood pressure hit the ceiling. Just who in the hell does he think he is? I love to hear these guys who’ve been dodging their draft boards for the last five years bawling out the Gi’s who have no rights in the world according to him. All these years we’ve taken the kick in the pants without much complaint; we won the war and saved their necks; we listened to the lies that have been passed out; we’ve more than won our right to speak; and now that whatever he is has the confounded gall to make a statement like that. I don’t know yet how many of these articles I’ll be able to get into this letter without making it too heavy. Now the Marine Corps with exactly the same system as the Army is letting out men with 45 points and in the Pacific he army states that men with 50 points will be home by January 31. But in the ETO what? Maybe by the time you receive this letter things will have straightened themselves out. I certainly hope so. I want to get home in the very worst way and believe that I’M entitled to it as much as the next guy. [I didn’t mean to capitalize that I’m].

I received 3 more letters from you today dated the 5th, 14th and 15th of December. These letters are older than the ones that I got the other day but nevertheless I was happy to receive them. It sure seems as if there are being some changes make at Harvard. I was rather surprised to hear that they are going to build a swimming pool at school. I thought that the Bishop was rather opposed to the idea.

So Leon is home now. I’m glad to hear it he’s really had a pretty raw deal and he’s not the type that can take it very well. That’s one thing about the infantry. Having been in it gives a man as much inward satisfaction as is possible but there is almost no outward glory such as the air corps has.

Boy! I’d sure like to see that room of mine. It must be the stuff of the stuff. I really have my doubts whether I’ll be able to sleep in such luxury after 2 years of army cots and cold hard ground. I’ll sure have a swell time adjusting myself, anyway.

That’s about all I have to say for tonight.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 265- January 1, 1946

January 1, 1946
Giessen, Germany (Hesse)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

The new year is here at last. I don’t know what will hold for us all but at least the outlook is pretty good. It’s quite different this year. Last year at this time I was actually fighting for my life against the German New year offensive. I was cold, miserable and I might add desperate although that word smacks of the dramatic. This year I’m warm and well fed, yet if anything I’m more homesick. I’m getting so tired of it all that I just don’t know what to say. I was reading in the Stars and Stripes yesterday that the morale of the troops in the Pacific is cracking because they’ve been fighting so long and are now being treated like pawns in a chess game. It’s really confusing to the average soldier when he hears that men in the states are being discharged in the belief that they are unessential and surplus, and yet at the same time men who have fought for years are told that they will have to stay. It’s just the same as saying, “Okay, you won the war; now to hell with you. They talk about stopping the draft and yet also talk about years and years of occupation. If that is so only we can make the occupation force. In other words some men must give everything to their country while others give nothing. I believe that I’m at least half way intelligent but I can’t understand this.

I still haven’t received any mail from you, but the sky does look a little brighter in as much as one of the boys in this company did get a letter the other day that was mailed to this address. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get something. I sure hope so. I’ve really lost touch with you. The last letter that I got was written in early November.

Last night I stayed up to welcome the New Year in. At twelve the GI’s started to shoot off everything they could lay their hands on and the Jerries threw old electric light globes out the window. One of the POW’s had a crying jag on and was determined to tell someone about all his troubles. Wot a life. I got to bed about 2:oo am this morning so I didn’t get much of a night’s sleep.

I don’t know what to do with myself today but you can bet on one thing and that is that it won’t amount to a hell of a lot. I spend about half my time chewing the rag with hans who is our interpreter here. He’s only 17 years old but he speaks good English and is quite intelligent. One can learn more about Nazi Germany from him in five minutes than you can from anyone else in ten years. That’s mainly because he tells the truth instead of giving you a song and dance. He’s interesting in as much as he is a product of Nazi teaching. Until he came here he hadn’t the slightest idea about so many things that we take for granted. He told me last night that only now does he realize that “the happy ending” was impossible under Nazism. He thinks that we should start some extensive educational plans over here. He says that the most fanatical young Nazi is better adapted to learning democracy than the old people who always say that they don’t want anything to do with politics.

That’s all for now.

Best love, Bill

Letter 252- November 3, 1945

November 3, 1945

Vailhingen, Germany

Dear Mudder and Dad,

It’s been quite some time again since I’ve written you but please don’t hold it against me. I’ve been terribly busy and what’s more I haven’t received mail from you in days. I don’t know what’s wrong this time but it doesn’t seem like the army can ever do anything right for over five minutes at a time.

“Der Blitzen ist Kommt”. It’s come at last. I’m being transferred out. I’m leaving on the 6th but as yet I don’t know where I’m going. I may go to Rhiems, France as an M.P. or Stuttgart as a labor gang supervisor or possibly to Military G0vt. I can go practically anywhere but those are the most likely.

The entire point system has been changed around again so that when the Division sails on Dec. 15 there will be only men with between 60 and 65 points going with it. That leaves almost no one of the “Old 100th” in the division as it stands now.

Immediately upon arriving at my destination I’ll send you my new address.

By far the best deal in the army today is the M.G’s (Mil. Govt.). Those birds live like kings. There’s only one drawback. They’ll probably have to stay here longer than anybody with the exception of the permanent army of occupation. That ain’t good.

More men are signing up every day for the Regulars. That’s good. The more sucker—‘er, ah, patriotic citizens who do that the sooner I get home.

There’s not a helluva lot more to write. Things are about the same here as ever. This is a monotonous life. The weather’s cold and sloppy. The only entertainment I get is the movies. I go practically every night.

“Yank” magazine had quite a story about “Mad Man Muntz” this month. That screwball is getting world famous.

They’re beginning to talk about Thanksgiving and Christmas over here now, and “Ye Olde Morale is beginning to take a nosedive into the sewer. This will be my 3rd Christmas away from home. Well, anyway it will be better than the last Christmases. I think I will write a little story about last Christmas and send it to you about that time of year. I think you’ll be interested in it.

That does it I’m afraid.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 234- September 5, 1945

September 5, 1945
(Derdingen, Ger.)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I’ve been putting off writing to you for days hoping that I’d receive a letter, but so far it’s been no go. I don’t know what’s wrong again but that’s the way it always goes.

I’m practically going crazy these days with boredom. Every day they’re slapping more and more restrictions on us, until life is becoming unbearable. They don’t give us any time off but neither are we doing anything worthwhile. It’s the greatest program of organized “nothing “ that I’ve ever seen, and this school business occupies only about 3 or 4 hours a day so the rest of the time we just sit and are waiting and wondering if we’ll ever get home. If we only had some idea of how long it would be there’d be some hope, but the way it is I don’t know what to think. The only entertainment we get is the movie. Out of 230 men in the company 13 can get to the show each night by riding the 15 miles on an open truck. (excuse my writing).

The weather’s lousy (as usual), cold and damp in the morning, hot and steaming in the afternoon, rainy in the evening. What I’d like to do to Germany ain’t fit to be written down. I’ve now got 47 points toward discharge and with the fact I’ve been overseas for more than a year, I’m pretty well set up.

School must be about ready to start up again—probably will have begun before you receive this letter. Wish I could be among the alumni who drop in around the beginning of the term.

We’re all so damned homesick that it hurts. There’s about 15 of us in my room and all we talk over is that evening drive, or a hamburger or a lit up street, neon signs, a comfortable chair or any of those little things that one doesn’t ordinarily think about. Honestly I’d give $100 outright to be able to walk up Hollywood Blvd. I guess it’s just that we’ve fought and won, so now we’d like to go home and have somebody else do a little bit.

Well, hope I get a letter soon.

How about a package of candy, cookies, sandwich spread, etc. The food’s worse than ever.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 231- August 23, 1945

August 23 1945
(Derdingen, Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Oh what a life this is getting to be. Your letters and the little books that you and the other fellow’s people have sent are all that’s keeping us from going batty. Any idea of training is repulsive and interest in practically everything is waning. We don’t talk about it much anymore but the foremost thought in everyone’s mind is “when are we going home?” There are no rumors anymore but we still wonder.

The weather here is rotten and so cold that overcoats were handed out yesterday—August! For three days it rained almost steadily.

I heard a new song on the air last Tuesday “Cali-for-naye-ay”. I was quite homesick as were the rest of the Californians in the platoon (6).

There’s a rampaging rumor racing around now that all men under 40 points will go into the Army of Occupation. I now have 45 or 47 points so if it’s true I’m all right. The way the papers read though I’ll be lucky to get out by 1960. Peacetime conscription would simplify everything but some people seem to think we should stay over here forever and everyone else lean back and forget about the whole business. By the way, I see the navy is up in arms over its point system. It is unfair a sailor who never went aboard a ship can easily have as many points as one that had 3 ships shot out under him. I’ll tell you one thing though. When the armed forces do get home a lot of smug big shots in Washington are going to get a jolt.

Watch out! Hyar comes another request. I want a couple of T-shirts and a sweat shirt, if you can get them. I would also like a box of candy, cookies or other stuff like that thar.

Gotta go now.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 158- December 12, 1944

December 12, 1944
(France)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

It’s been too long since I wrote my last letter, I know; but it’s really impossible to do better under the circumstances. The officer who does the censoring hasn’t the time and the facilities are practically nil. I’ll do the best I can but I can almost promise that it won’t be good enough.

After all this time I finally got some mail from you—4 letters. You know how I must feel. Maybe I’ll get some packages soon now. We’re having our first snow in this part of France now. Just sloppy miserable weather all the time. Jimmy Chune wasn’t fooling.

When this damn thing is over I think I will go to Death Valley and live so I won’t ever have to see any rain.

Only a few more days until Christmas now. It’s hard to think of Christmas over here away from home. As far as I’m concerned it just isn’t anything at all. Oh well! A lot of people over here think it’ll be over by then. I figure that it’s always better to look on the brighter side of things. It would be a swell Christmas present.

Did you get my Christmas card? The regt. passed them out. I thought that was rather nice.
I haven’t heard any news for quite some time again. I believe that no one knows less about the war than the poor G.I. that fights the damn thing.

Well, excuse this terrible writing but a pen will cut right through this lousy paper.

This part of France is very pretty if a person gets his mind off his sore feet long enough to notice it. It’s much like the forest country in California except for the large number of little towns. The towns themselves would be very picturesque if it wasn’t for the fact that they’ve had the hell knocked out of them. The Jerries won’t fight in the open country. They like to fight in towns where they can stay in warm cellars while our men freeze outside of towns in foxholes—the polecats.

Well, I’ll close now. I’ll write again as soon as I can.


Best Love,
Bill

Letter 144- October 27, 1944

October 27, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

The army is sure doing it’s damndest to try and keep me from doing my letter writing. Tonight we’ve got a night problem. You know—going out into black night and fogging around with a compass. If I don’t fall in a hole somewhere and break my leg, I’ll be doing okay.

Well, it won’t be long ‘til the holiday season. I know, Thanksgiving is still some time away, but we’re beginning to think about getting cards and so forth. All of which makes the poor mistreated soldier more homesick than ever—if that is possible.

It’ll be just about election time when you get this, from what the papers say Dewey is making some pretty strong speeches. I hope they make some effect. There’s not much known over here, but it seems to be thought that Roosevelt will win by a very narrow margin. I wish that I were closer and knew a little more of what is going on.

Well, (too many wells around here) I seems we’ve won a great battle in the Philippines. Even the British papers give it top billing. They say that it will shorten the Pacific war considerably. I hope so. Maybe then I could get home before I have a gray beard draggin’ on the floor.

I sure hope those packages come soon. I’m getting hungry for some good food and stuff.

We’re going to have to fall out in a few minutes so I’ll close now.

Bestus Love,
Bill

Letter 123- September 20, 1944

September 20, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Just time for a short note tonight. I’ve had a real tough day of sitting on my posterior doing dry runs on rifle practice. If this soft life continues much longer I’ll be even a more confused bum than I am now, if such a thing is possible. It’s funny but the less I do the sooner I want to go to bed at night. Now it’s only 8:20 P.M. and I’m as sleepy as the devil.

The fellow who sleeps under me is from Modesto and this evening we got talking about travelling up the Redwood Highway and up the Columbia River. Oh boy! Does England look sick. Phooey. So far I’ve been to several of the large towns around here. If a plague and a blackout were to descend on Studio City it’d still be 3 times as lively as the largest of these dumps. Oh well, maybe I’m too exacting.

That’s about all I’ve got time now.

Bestus Love,
Bill

Letter 95- April 28, 1944

April 28, 1944
(Camp Crowder, Missouri)


Dear Mudder and Dad,

Here I am again, way behind in my writing, Tuesday Guard Duty, Wednesday night hike 22 miles, Thurs. went to show, tonight “G.I. Party” so I’m still behind. I'm a bum.

I’m still in radio—just as dumb at code as ever but still in radio. The course is good as over so even if I do get kicked out I’ve had a course in radio. However, they’re beginning to hint around that somebody’s going to be dropped, but they’re nice about it anyway. They just say some fellows just aren’t cut out to be radio operators.

There’s a lot of rumors humming around here and most of them are about the invasion. There’s a fellow named Dalsin in our company who served for over a year in the British Eighth Army. He’s quite a character. One of those screwballs who probably get a commission but who’d rather be a private. He’s obviously very well educated and a very interesting talker. He’s spent some 5 or 6 years travelling in Europe and the Near East and can tell and show a person many interesting things. Anyhow—this Dalkin predicted this afternoon that the Invasion would take place in 10 days or less. He admitted it was quite a bold prediction yet who knows? This afternoon the Germans announced that the Allies are massing shipping in England.

Haven’t much else to write—Sorry. Guess I’m just getting sleepy.

FOREMOST THOUGHTS: FEELING FINE!
HOMESICK!
WANNA COME HOME!

Best Love,
Bill

P.S. Could use some stamps.

Letter 46- December 16, 1943

December 16, 1943
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)

Dear Mudder & Dad,


Today I’m on duty as latrine orderly or as the GI’s less delicately put it, “turd sergeant”. In spite of that, it’s a plenty soft job. In the morning a squad comes in and cleans up so all I have to do for the rest of the day is stoke a small furnace and a couple of space heaters. Pretty good, huh? Another good feature about it is the fact that it lets me out of guard duty tonight. So I get all day to sit around and write letters and all night to sleep. This is how army life should always be.

Tomorrow we get the entire day off and all afternoon and evening to go to Bend for Christmas shopping. I think that they’re beginning to realize that men can be driven so far in this weather before they break. The number of AWOL’s and desertions around here is pretty high for engineers.

Last night I sent the pictures home. It was late but the best I could do. I insured the packages. I definitely don’t think the pictures are so hot. I especially don’t like the oils. On one of them my nose looks as if it were wrapped around my face and the other was made up sloppily. I rather like the little picture, however. I’m s’posed to have a fellow take some snapshots of me sometime over the weekend. If so I’ll send some to you. How would you like me dressed with full field equipment? As I said in last night’s letter, “you should live so long.”

About this A.S.T.P deal---I’ve just about decided that the best thing to do would be to continue on with my basic and then see what’s up. I might just might be able to get to be cadre. They’re going to move all the old cadre to line outfits after this period. That means they may get some of the new from the present bunch. Of course, this is just speculation but I’ve got my eyes open in all directions. Somewhere in this army there must be a decent opening for me.

Of course the war may not last so much longer. In spite of some recent allied setbacks, I don’t see how Germany will get thru the winter. In that case my chances of advancing in any direction will be slim.

Only 9 more days until Christmas, gee. This year has sure gone by fast. I do hope you do some kind of celebrating over the holidays. I’m going to try and have as nice a Christmas as possible under the circumstances and I’d like to think you were doing the same. I’ve got it all figured out how I can have a tree. It’ll be about a foot high and will stand on my shelf.

Since that last paragraph was written about 2 hours have passed. I ate lunch and generally “futzed” around during all that time. I’m getting to be an expert goldbrick. What little work I had to do on the stoves this morning I don’t have to do this afternoon because I was told to let them go out for some reason or another. So here I sit----Ahhh.

That little note from the paper about Shirley Temple and Hotchkiss, the sap, sure gave me a laugh. The more I see and hear about people the more I like and admire dogs. That may be corny but it is oh so true. Speaking of dogs, always when I’m down in the dumps I get cheered up (by) one of the company mutts. He’s a fat, spoiled (by the mess sarge) little cocker spaniel named Pup that reminds me so much of Johanna that it hurts. He sure is cute and so fat he can hardly waddle. By the way, how is Johanna—just as big a pest as ever I suppose.

As Christmas gets closer I’m sure getting homesick. At night I’ll lay in my bunk and think about it. God, this war’s a pain in the neck.

I was wondering if you could pick up a camera somewhere and send it. I can get films and I sure could get a lot of pictures.

Well, I’d better close. I’m beginning to bore even myself.

Best Love,
Bill


(Sketch Here)

PS. Thanks for the $15.00

Letter 34- December 1, 1943

Dec. 1, 1943
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)

Dear Folks,

Gee, I sure feel blue today. I don’t know why except for this A.S.T.P. It looks as if I’m washed up as far as that’s concerned. The thing that hurts the most is that after they got me to enlist for that damn thing and after I turned down an appointment to the Air Corps for it, they don’t have the decency to let me know why I didn’t make it. I’ve decided to find out what my chances are for a transfer as soon as possible. I may not be the smartest guy the world has ever seen, but I know damn well I’ve got more ability than anyone I’ve seen in this company; and whatever ability I have will never get a chance to show itself here. The trouble is that I have no interest or ability as the engineering is concerned. I really think I’d be better off if I were even in the infantry. Although I’m not letting it get me down too much and I don’t say anything to anyone about it I’m beginning to detest both engineering and Camp Abbot. I know it’s homesickness more than anything else, but nevertheless that’s how I feel. After a person has been around a place like this for a while he gets so he can only see the inefficiency and graft and that’s all. I ain’t never gonna like this lousy war. I sure hope the European part of the war is over soon. I was fortunate enough the other night to hear a news broadcast on the radio over at the P.X. and according to it the Germans are already trying to make peace. I suppose it’s too good to be true, but it’s heartening anyway.

I didn’t receive any mail from you last night, but I suppose I shouldn’t complain. I haven’t been able to get off nearly as many letters as I wanted to send, and I guess you’re having the same trouble. Like a sap I’ve meant to thank you in my last 3 letters for the swell chocolate you sent me. They sure are good on a cold night.

That reminds me. I pulled Guard Duty again last night-3 hours in the snow. Now do you wonder why I have colds? For the last 2 nights I haven’t got over 5 hours sleep per night, and tonight it looks like we’re going to have a night problem, which means I probably won’t get to bed again until the crack of down.

Well, I finally got my pay-$65.30 I’m sending $50.00 home as soon as I can get to the post-office and send a money order. You may get the money order before you get this letter and again you may not.

There was something else important I wanted to tell you or ask you, but now I can’t seem to think of whom or what it’s about.

Today I’m barracks orderly and that’s the main reason that I’ve got enough time to write this letter. From now on I should have more time to write, but I can’t be sure around here.

Boy! What I wouldn’t give to come home. If I could only see you now and then this training wouldn’t be so bad, but to be doing something with little or no hope of ever getting anywhere with it and then being so homesick on top of it all is pretty bad. Sometimes in the evening I can hear the Great Northern heading south and it pretty near knocks me out.

Well, if I don’t stop that moaning this letter is going to start sounding like a dirge.

I’m beginning to believe more and more that we’ll move out of this camp as soon as the snow really gets deep. More and more fellows are going to the hospital every day and literally everyone has a bad cold-me especially.

I was supposed to go over and get the proofs to my pictures last night but the guard duty and this night problem will keep me from getting them until Thursday at least. They say it’ll take 10 days to get the finished pictures after that. So they should reach you not later than Dec. 15. That doesn’t give you a hell of a lot of time to mail out the little pictures, but it’s the best I can do.

Write soon and write a lot. It may not seem like much to you but when you’re up in a hole like this even the goings on in the Valley Times is interesting.



All the love in the
Whole darned
World,

Bill

Letter 33- November 29, 1943

Nov. 29, 1943
Dear Folks,

I just received your letter, Daddy concerning that god damned house. What a pain in the neck that thing’s been. I sure hope you’ll be all through with the “jernt” by the time you receive this letter. I hope you make a little profit out of the thing too.

I just happened to think tonight that I never heard anything from the University concerning my credits. Did you ever find out about it?

Tomorrow is payday and I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m going to get another ten bucks. They don’t give a damn about you here. That reminds me. If Col. Higgins is right about the army being honorbound to give the Sunday guard another day off, then the Camp Abbot Engineers aren’t part of the army. That wouldn’t surprise me either. Anyway we didn’t get the day off. They’ve been working us like dogs around here and it’s getting us all down. My cold is no help either. It doesn’t get any worse, but it doesn’t get any better. I guess it’s the climate here. One fellow to whom I talked at the Service Club the other night told me he’s had one for almost 4 months.

Tonight at the P.X. I picked up a copy of “Life” and saw an article on Los Angeles. It sure made me homesick. When I get back home I’ll never roam.

We had demolition work today and to tell you the truth I was scared to death at first, but the army uses the safest explosives known and if a person has any brains at all he can’t get hurt. We don’t use any dynamite at all because it’s considered too dangerous. All we use is Nitro Starch and a putty like stuff called “Composition C”. It’s 3 times as powerful as T.N.T. but it’s almost impossible to set off. The most dangerous things we have to handle are the caps. We made all sorts of things, but mainly we worked on primers.

Tonight we turned in our old 14 inch bayonets and were issued the new 10 inch type. The scabbard has a sharpening devise inside so that taking the bayonet in and out of the thing automatically hones the blade.

Keep sending the news. I find out almost “nottinks” here.

I’ll write more tomorrow if I don’t get guard duty. *&%^#*%#!

Love,
“Yardbird” (my mental condition)
Bill

P.S. Rain, Sleet, Snow, Slush- Oh god, why this hole?

(sketch here) Beautiful day at Camp Abbot

Letter 19- November 5, 1943

November 5, 1943
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)

Dear Folks,

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,

Bill


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.

About Letter 3

Bill has been in the Camp Abbot hospital for 5 days with "G.I.Stomach" and his frustration is beginning to show. He gripes about the medics in the hospital, the lousy country at Abbot, the lousy weather, and the volcanic dust . For the first time he is homesick.

Letter 3- October 18, 1943 (Camp Abbot)

October 18, 1943
Camp Abbot, Oregon


Dear Folks,

I really have nothing to write about because I’m still in the goddamn hospital waiting for the goddamn medics to make up their goddamn minds that there’s nothing wrong with me. Every day I’ve got to scrub the floor or clean out the latrine, and if I’m well enough to work like that I’m well enough to go back to my company. I feel swell and am eating like a horse. This is my main reason for writing. I don’t want you to worry. Besides my disgust with the medics there’s this lousy country and weather. Every day a little hail, sleet, and snowfalls-only enough, however, to stir up the six inches of volcanic dust that covers the ground. I think they built this camp here with the expressed purpose of making everybody miserable and homesick. As yet I’m not miserable, but I’m sure homesick.

Pardon this poor writing. I have no table.



Lots of Love,
Bill