Letter 283- March 3, 1946

Giessen, Germany (Hesse)

3 March 1946

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Well, here it is Sunday again and here I am waiting on pins and needles for something to happen. This waiting is really beginning to get me down. If only I knew something for sure it wouldn’t be so bad, but the way things are now I can’t say anything for sure. Replacements are beginning to come into this area in droves so it shouldn’t be long but on the other hand with the terrible food shortage that is beginning to be felt over here they are probably going to need more troops than ever. It makes me so damn mad to see the damn inefficiency that is causing all this trouble. Democracy is sure making a great showing for itself. They announced in the paper today that the food rations in the British Zone is to be cut to about a third of what the British ration is. That is starvation and nothing else. It’s easy enough to say that the Germans have brought it on themselves but starving women and children will certainly be a great advertisement for the champions of the “Four Freedoms”. The Germans are really getting scared and if things get in the American Zone like they are in the British Zone it’s going to take a helluva lot more than 300,000 troops to keep the people in line. All I hope is that I can get out of here before things get to that stage.

One of the fellows in our company has just come back from Italy where he says the situation is terrible. Everyone says to hell with democratic processes and that they need someone in government who will do something. That’s the sort of thing that reminds you of 1933.

I received another February 20th letter from you today so you can see that my mail situation is somewhat better at present. However, I believe that your letter had something to do with that. Yesterday we received a packet of mail from New York with a special airmail ticket on it so evidently the 1297th is getting a little thought for once. It’s a pleasant feeling after all this time.

These Sundays really get me down so anymore I save up some work during the week to take care of on Sunday. Rosemarie, the girl I told you about in my last letter claims that work is the only sure cure for the blues that she knows of. I’m prone to agree with her although I’m one of the laziest people in the world. Anymore if I don’t have something constructive to keep me occupied I feel like the fifth wheel on a stationary engine. I’ll tell you one thing. If a couple of years in the army doesn’t make a bum out of you nothing will. Either you do nothing or they keep you busy doing something that amounts to nothing. As father Gabriel Heater used to say over the radio on the days when the Jerries kicked the royal living daylights out of us, “Oh Yes, there’s great news coming out of Europe tonight.” I guess it’s all in the way you look at it, and the way I look at it the situation sticks—that’s a slight misspelling.

That’s about all for today so here’s hoping that I’ll know something by the time I write again.

Best Love,

Bill

Letter 280- February 24, 1946

Giessen/Lahn- Gross Hessen
24 Februar 1946

Liebe Mutter und Vater-

Na, heute ist Sonntag und hier bin ich jetzt in Deutschland. Jeder Tag sage ich zu mir, “Wie lange”. Immer noch weiss ich nichts. Ich will zu Hause komen. Das ist all und das ist alles. Vielleicht habe ich zu viel Ungedulden.

Ju, heute ist Sonntag aber ich muss noch arbeiten. Es gibt drei Berichter dass ich muss vor zehn Uhr schreiben. Die Arbeit des Oberfeldwebels nie endet. (Ha! Ha!)

Now don’t laugh. I’m doing the best I can. It’s common knowledge that I’m an expert at murdering the English language so you can imagine what kind of torture I can impose on the German language. Honestly though I get quite a kick out of this. I like German much better than French or anything else I’ve studied and I’m going to take it when I get back to school. An old German University professor here in Giessen told me yesterday that it would be worthwhile to learn German if for no other reason than to read Goethe. I do like it and I’m making at least a little headway with it so I think I’ll keep right on with it when I get home. When I get home you’ll probably be surprised by the different things which interest me now as compared with what I thought about before. For one thing there is one thing that I’ve been interested in ever since I got over here and that is economics. It always seemed like something good to know but boring to me before but after watching the European muddle for awhile I decided that it’s really important and that all people ought to have a better knowledge of it than they do. I’ll tell you something. It may seem silly to you but ever since the war ended I’ve been trying to get the slant of the average European on everything in general. I believe that the average GI will leave Europe knowing no more about these people and their problems than he ever did. That’s not so much a tribute to American ignorance as it is to American arrogance. One thing that I hear so much is, “These Limeys or these Frogs or these Krauts or these Polskies or Russkies are so damn dumb.” Sometimes I wonder if we’re not the dumb ones. Anyway it always gets back to the same old story—economics. I know that I’m not making any revelations as this stuff has been hashed over a thousand times by everybody and his sister but everyday now I read about this political mess with its spheres of influence talk stressing national characteristics as opposed to the “common brotherhood of man” etc. and I realize more and more that all the talk that is going on is nothing more than rather skillful evasion of the real problem. The other night I heard a translation of a speech by Joseph Stalin. Among the mountain of bullcrap which he threw was that old pearl of wisdom about the causes of war being the unequal distribution of raw materials and markets in the world. So as not to sound like a Communist I’ll say that I’m not opposed to the economic “stranglehold” as long as it gets results, but it doesn’t. There is the trouble—there I go again. Maybe I ought to get a soapbox. I think about this stuff a lot these days and somehow I can’t seem to write a letter without getting this stuff in. I’m sorry but when I was fighting I figured that I was fighting for some kind of a better world. I suppose that I had to think that I was fighting for a little more than the right to go home as did most fellows up there and now when I see all this I feel a little bitter—not cynical as most GI’s mind you but nevertheless bitter.

I don’t know what you’ll think about what I’m going to say but I’ve given you a dose of my philosophy in nearly every letter that I’ve written lately so I might as well tell you everything I know and think for once and for all. There are a lot of things that I’ve seen and done in this war that I’ve never mentioned to you because I thought that you’d rather not hear about them but now I’ll tell you the whole story insofar as it concerns what I believe.

One day last April I stood on a street in Stuttgart with a group of the fellows and saw a French soldier hit a pregnant German woman in the belly with the butt of his rifle. A couple of men in our group laughed but most of us were horrified, yet none of us did a thing. From that day until this I’ve felt like a rotten coward for that one thing. We all said among ourselves that the bastard ought to be strung up but none of us had the Moral Courage to do a damned thing about it. I thought up on line that I had guts because I could face machine-gun fire but 99 men out of every hundred have that kind of courage. It’s a rare few that have the other kind. Also I liked to think that I was a civilized human being because I could kill and yet detest killing but now I realize what a rotten egotist I was. I still don’t know whether what I did was right or wrong but I don’t believe I have the right to pat myself on the back. I believe that this is true of all men including Germans and Japs. We actually live in an ideal situation so we have a tendency to think that everyone else is a rat if they show weakness toward their own sins. Here in Germany I’ve talked with a lot of people and I did the same in England and France and my conclusions are always the same. That is that people in general everywhere are pretty much the same. But also everywhere people are morally weak. Just as I deplored what that French soldier did and yet did nothing myself for fear of getting in trouble the Germans deplored what some of their own people did but did nothing. One German said to me, “Yes, I knew that such and such was wrong but I had my wife and children to think about.” I was about to make a remark when it just struck me. Just what would I do in such a spot? Nothing. There are things that American soldiers have done that you can be sure I will never tell my grandchildren about. More than one German prisoner captured by my outfit was told to run then was shot down “trying to escape”. At the time I tried to tell myself that he probably deserved it or something of that sort but wasn’t that the same thing the Germans told themselves? Yes, and it was still murder, and I condoned murder because I didn’t have the guts to say anything.

Well now to get back to what I was talking about in the first place. Just as Germany tried to conquer the world by force of arms we’re trying to do the same economically. Oh I’m not well enough informed to say whether this is true everywhere but I can see it here. It’s always been England’s big stick (no German ever told to me just in case you believe the newspapers when they claim the GI’s are being swayed by the Frauleins). Anyway I don’t think it’ll work. It just stirs up the same old hate and drives people into the arms of guys like Hitler. In the twenties the Nazis use to say times must get bad or the cause is lost. We’re well on our way toward making bad times here in Germany already and paradoxically it seems we’re even supplying the Nazis if what the Reader’s Digest is true. Anyway I’ve learned from living over here that a hungry man is a dangerous man no matter whether he’s a German or a Russian or an American. If he sees his children go hungry he’ll do anything or accept any scheme to save them. I don’t believe it would make any difference what nationalities were involved. In fact if Germany or France or any of these other hemmed-in countries were populated or over-populated with Americans instead of the ones who are here there would even be more hell to pay. But there you are—economics.

I’ll tell you something that I’ve noticed here in Germany. Even though they’ve been utterly crushed in this war they are the only people I’ve seen in Europe who actually aspire to a better life. By this I mean they are the only ones that I’ve seen who really seem to want those things that we are always working for like automobiles, refrigerators, new clothes, homes, etc. If you speak to them about such things their eyes light up like electric lights. You won’t find that among the French or English or anyone else over here for that matter. They’re satisfied with what they’ve got and I believe that fact irks the Germans a great deal.

In short I wonder if we’re doing the right thing over here. It’s very easy to sit back in Washington and write off millions of people as scum unworthy of anything better in life than the role of a dangerous prisoner. I don’t say that we should just step out and let everything go to hell again but it seems to me that lowering the standard of living is just asking for trouble.

I probably didn’t get over the way I wanted to but soon now I’ll be coming home and I’ll be able to talk it over with you anyway.

I guess you can get out the shovels now. Anyway I promise that I won’t write anymore of this stuff again. I’ve got it pretty well out of my system.

I’ll try to write you a really good letter tomorrow night so for tonight I guess that’s all.

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 248- October 19, 1945

October 19, 1945
(Stuttgart, Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Things have really been hopping along for the last few days since I’ve been driving for the “Century Sentinel”. The other day there was a very important meeting of the military governors of all Germany here and somehow AP, UP & INS slipped up so we had the only newspaperman attending the conference. Lt. Gen. Lucius Clay was there (Mil. Gov. of American occupied Germany and Gen. Eisenhower’s deputy). Also present were a mess of 2 and 3 star generals and Mr. Robt. Murphy¹, U.S. Ambassador so to speak to Germany. I looked like a bum—dirty clothes and unshaven but you should have seen them fall all over us—the power of the press you know. We talked to Murphy. He seemed a pretty nice old gink. The whole thing was quite a feather in the cap of O’Connor, the editor of the Sentinel. He used to be Foreign News Editor for N.B.C. Chicago. I’m only a driver but with my press card they thought I might be somebody so they leaned over backward to be nice to me.

Right now I would volunteer to stay in the army long enough to do one more thing. That’s to go and kick the living daylights out of Argentina. I’d like to see us do it now before we’re demobilized. That Peron and his army clique I would take care of in about 3 days. We spent 3 ½ years licking the big Fascheats (how do you spell it?). Now I suppose we’re going to sit around and let those 2 for a nickel Nazilands, Spain and Argentina lord it around. Phooey!

That about does it.


Best Love,
Bill

Letter 177- February 14, 1945

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.

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

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 138- October 21, 1944

October 21, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I don’t have a “hellova” lot of time to write tonight. I just got off of K.P. and it’s pretty late. It was an easy day, but I had to get up at 3:30 a.m. It was silly too. There was no reason in the world why I shouldn’t have slept until 5:00 anyway but you know the army “Hurry up and wait.” By the way, have you heard the “daffynition” of a chow line? It’s the man behind the man behind the man, etc., etc. I’ve got a couple cartoons I’m going to put a couple of cartoons. That last sentence shows what the E.T.O. has done to me. Another few months and they’ll send me home a babbling idiot with a section eight. Anyhow I think you’re acquainted with the “Sad Sack” but I don’t know if you know his erstwhile contemporary, “Hubert”.

I have to go over and see if I can buy some stationary before the P.X. closes that is if it hasn’t shut down already.

We’re all pretty jubalent? jubilunt? jubilent? (None of ‘em look right) over the news of the invasion of the Phillipines? Philippines? (Why can’t I learn to spell?) The papers over here with the exception of the ‘Stars and Stripes” hardly mention it, but we understand it’s really big and months ahead of schedule.

How’s the campaign coming? That does it. I’ll write again tomorrow.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 131- October 8, 1944

October 8, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,
I finally received 2 letters from you. It was really a relief. Just to show you what the delay had been, these last letters were both marked #12. Before them the last letter I received was marked # 6. In other words somewhere there are 5 letters floating around. I know my change of address would have something to do with this but just think, all that time for a few letters to travel around in this little country.

I sure wish I was home to follow the campaign. I’ll bet it’s sure interesting. That clipping sure took a rap at the “great man.”

As I say in just about all my letters, there isn’t much to write. This evening I went to the show again. That’s about all a body can do. Soon I’m going to put in for my London pass. Can’t say just when though.

Have you heard any more about the estate Gramps left? I got to thinking about the family records that he always used to talk to me about when we were east. I wonder if they still exist and whether or not I could have them if they do. I’m the only one to whom they could mean much so I wish you’d write and see about them.

I “shure” hope those packages get through okay. Most of the fellows here seem to be getting them all right but just a little slower than regular mail. By the way, yesterday’s letters were postmarked the 28th. That wasn’t so bad.

Hope to get another letter tomorrow night.

Best love,
Bill

Letter 127- September 28, 1944

September 28, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I always start out by writing that it’ll be a short note—well, it will be. Very little of interest has been happening around here since I last wrote and on top of that I haven’t received any mail from you for several miles (several miles. Isn’t that awful? Here I am trying to write with a couple of “yahoos” blabbin’ about how far it is to some burg.) Anyhow, that’s not miles but rather days.

It seems now that all our rosy ideas about the war being over by the 1st. of October was just so much baloney. Now they talk about it lasting at least another 2 years. I guess I’ll see some action yet. Probably by the time I get home I’ll be eligible for on old age pension. Brrrr! Ghastly thought. The main trouble with us Americans I think is the way which we go to extremes. Everything must either be rosy red or black. One day they’re predicting the hour the war’ll end and next they’re groaning about it dragging on ‘till “nineteen-leventy-leven”.

Slogans for Servicemen

Dewey:
“Home alive in ‘45

Roosevelt:
“Pearly gate by ‘48

This is making the rounds over here.

P.S. I am in Southern England. I can say no more.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 121- September 17, 1944

September 17, 1944
(England)

Dear Mother and Dad,

Well, at last I’m settled. My future is assured for some time to come. In short I’ve been transferred to the Infantry, the Infantry. When they told me that I was transferred and to go through an infantry basic I damn near dropped dead. I still don’t know exactly what to say. At least you don’t have to worry about me going into battle.

As a combat engineer I was more or less a finished product ready for the front lines, but as an Infantryman, I’m only a rooky. I can’t tell you how long a period of training we’re going to get but I can say that it’s very doubtful that this war will last as long as the training.

I actually believe that the reason for all this lies in the fact that they just don’t know what in the devil to do with us. We’ve finished training yet they can’t use us so they stick us in another branch and start all over again. If pretty soon I write and tell you I am in the Horse Cavalry don’t be surprised.

I am now quite a distance (as distances go in England) from my old camp. This place is just about 1000 times better than was the jernt I just came from. The quarters are odd for a soldier, but comfortable. They won’t let me elaborate on this for some silly reason. The entertainment facilities are much better, the food is good and unlike the last camp I can get all I want. (I went hungry more than once back there) The training is easy (at least so far) and the weather here is a “helluva” lot better.

All in all this place is not bad but on the other hand I’ve lost all interest. Before I was (or thought I was) getting all set to go over. Now I feel that I’m not needed. Before I wanted to get all I could in the way of training because I felt that my very life depended on it. Now—I know it’s just so much baloney.

At last I think I can put in for that course in German. I’ll be settled here long enough to make it worthwhile.

I read by this morning’s paper that we’ve cut a hole through the Siegfried Line. It looks as if Germany is all washed up.

I don’t hear much about the election over here but from the weekly straw votes I see where Dewey is steadily mounting attacks made upon him by the British press. Of course, they would know how England benefits by the present regime in Washington. We’re not supposed to say anything against England in our letters but you know what I think.

I haven’t received any mail from you for several days due to the troop movement (me), but I suppose they’ll be along any time.

I’ve decided to send in now for the course in German. I’ll be for long enough to get started “anyhoo”. Always before I’ve been so busy and so uncertain about what came next that I didn’t care to go in for anything like that.

Well, I think I’ll go get a haircut this afternoon. I can listen to the radio while I wait. Then maybe I’ll go to the Red Cross and get a “Coke”.

They finished up the blackout over here today and that’ll make things a lot more agreeable than they’ve been before. If there’s anything I hate to do it’s having to fake around in the dark.

Sometime in the near future I may get a pass to London. If so, I’ll write all about it. That’s about all for now.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 107- July 4, 1944

July 4, 1944
(Camp Reynolds, Pa.)

Dearest Mudder and Dad,

If I’d written this when I intended to you’d have it by now. On Saturday evening I came here into the “Dayroom” and sat down to write a note but I got listening to the radio and so forth and before I knew it –no letter. On Sunday I intended to write but Jess came (I’ll tell you more about that later). Last night we went out on one of those screwy bivouacs and then went another evening. So here it is July 4 and the writing.

Today’s been the most dismal thing next to Christmas that I ever saw. All morning we marched in from bivouac thru little towns etc. where people looked at us and said, “Oh those poor boys—having to work on the 4th. Tch! Tch!” So we tramped on.

Right now I can hear the very good news of the day pouring out the radio; Russians 150 miles from German soil; Jap resistance crumbling on Saipan. We’re going forward in France. Maybe this European conflict is nearly over. Maybe it’s nearer over than any of us know. I hope so anyway. Maybe I hope too much. What gripes me is that certain commentators try and make it appear that every victory is due solely to the efforts of the “Great Man”. What is sickening, however, is the way the boobs drink it in. At times I despair of the future.

Well, I was sure glad to see Jess. I found out thru a girl she knows here in camp that she wanted to come but I was surprised when she came the very next day. We spent the evening at the home of these people she knows about 10 miles from here and I must say I enjoyed myself.

They have a very old house—run down and about 100 yrs. Old—along the old Erie Canal. The canal was closed over 90 years ago but the “ditch” is still almost intact—surprising when one realizes that it was dug 118 years ago.

I thought I’d try and get a 3 day pass to go to State College but it looks now as if it’s no go. That’s the way it always is in the army. Phooey on everything!

Love,
“Bless ‘em all”- Bill


Sketch here- “Me and my usual mood these days-first thing I know I’ll get stripes”

About Bill's Politics

As is evidenced in his letters, Bill has a keen interest in politics. The Taylor household in which he was raised was alive with passionate, opinionated political discussion. From an early age Bill was infused with the conservative political philosophy of his parents. In his writing it is clear that Bill is no fan of President Roosevelt and embraces the Republican point of view.

From June 26-28, 1944 the Republican Party held it's National Convention in Chicago, Illinois. Governor Thomas E. Dewey of New York was nominated as the Republican Presidential candidate on the first ballot. He was the first Republican candidate to accept the nomination in person. Ohio Governor John Bricker was the Vice-Presidential nominee. Earl Warren does not appear to be a factor in the contest to be the Vice-Presidential candidate in 1944.

A brief survey of the 1944 Republican Party Platform of 1944 does not present any major planks critical of the Roosevelt war effort. Most of the platform deals with domestic issues.

Republican Party Platforms: Republican Party Platform of 1944

Letter 106- June 29, 1944

June 29, 1944
(Camp Reynolds, Pa.)

Dear Mother and Dad,

Here’s another letter way late, and if it sounds pretty bad don’t blame me too much. Everything’s been pretty blah lately. We’re having some of the damnedest weather I’ve ever heard of. I suppose you already heard about our tornado. It never came this far north but we had some damned screwy winds. Since then it’s been insufferably hot. You know how it is bad here--sweat just runs off a person in rivulets. Nobody can sleep at night and then they work up a hike with full field pack for everyday. I went on one the day before yesterday right after taking the Typhus shot. That night I had a terrible fever for several hours. They had to take one guy to the hospital. God! The things we do.

We just got a new load of Nazi prisoners in this camp and we talked to a few through one of the boys who can speak German. What they said was very heartening. One was a paratrooper who went into the German Army in November (after I went). He just turned 18 about two days ago. He fought at Cassino and told us a great deal. He said the reports were that the Germans were using crack paratroopers weren’t true and that most of them hadn’t been in combat before. He said that his sergeant told him at Cassino the Americans shot in a minimum of 60,000 shells a day. He added that they were all so frightened that they were more than glad to surrender. Another German artillery man said that they feared worst of all American artillery and infantry. The accuracy of our riflemen seem to awe them especially. One German infantryman said he had received only the bare essentials of rifle marksmanship and no training at all with the bayonet. He said he could handle artillery, tanks, radios, etc. but oddly he knew nothing of the most important work of the infantryman.

I’ve been going to quite a few movies lately—mainly to benefit from the air conditioning. Last night I saw “Hail the Conquering Hero” with William Demerest and Eddie Bracken (remember them in “Miracle of Morgan’s Creek?). I don’t think this is as good but it is quite entertaining, nevertheless.

Yesterday the Pittsburgh Pirates came up here and played an exhibition game with some Youngstown club. The game of course wasn’t much and the heat was unbearable. However the Pirates pulled a lot of funny routines which were pretty good. The Pirate pitcher was the inventor of this “Blooper ball” that was mentioned in Life or Look a while back. It drops almost straight down on the plate.

Best Love,
Bill

Hell, I don’t want to stop here. I haven’t mentioned the convention. I’m sure glad to see Dewey doing so well. I think he is the only man who has a chance. By the time you get this you’ll probably know whether or not Warren will run for vice- president on the ticket. It will be hard on him to accept but I think it’ll help the cause along. In the army the political argument is going hot and heavy and I believe the majority is for Dewey. I find this especially among the Southerners. Maybe things are finally going our way.

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 54- December 28, 1943

December 28, 1943
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)

Hiya Mudder & Dad,

Tomorrow we go on our all night bivouac. That’s a phrase that strikes terror into the heart of the poor unfortunate rookie. Woe is me and all stuff like that there. Personally I’m looking forward to the damn thing with great enthusiasm. I’ll probably be cured of that quick enough, however. I believe that we march some 23 miles all together. I won’t like that but I’m afraid my likes and dislikes won’t amount to an awful lot as far as the big shots are concerned. In the afternoon we have to charge up a lousy hill with bayonets and gas masks on. I won’t like that either. Come to think of it, there’s very little about this man’s army I do like. Oh well ya can’t have everything. The only trouble with that is that we don’t get anything.

Today we had a nice little problem in combat principles. One thing—that is, problem—required us to take a hill on which an enemy platoon was stationed. They were armed with firecrackers which they were supposed to shoot off when they spot us. We had to crawl 300 yds. through the snow to take the position—I was soaked from head to foot.

I received your swell letter, Mudder, the one you wrote Christmas Day. I guess your Christmas must have been as corny as mine. Well, we did get to talk to one another anyway. That was sumpin’. I plan on calling every so often from now on since they’ve built a telephone building on the post. All one has to do is make out a slip and let them put through the call. It’s really okay.

I finished up the fruit cake today and finagled me another one from some guy who got too many Christmas presents. It’s not as good as yours, but who am I to get snooty about it.

Now I’m stuck—I can’t think of anything to write but I’m too Scotch to waste this entire sheet of paper. Now let’s see—hummmmm.

I’ll talk about the news. I had the misfortune of hearing Roosy’s speech the other night.¹ One thing I noticed, however, was the attitude of the men in the barracks toward the old bag. “That great man” is a thing of the past which has been replaced by “That son of a bitch”. It does my heart good. I see where Eisenhower says the war in Europe will be over by the end of this coming year and the experts give Germany only a 50—50 chance of going through the winter. Here’s hoping.

This is the 2nd day of the 51st. 3 week bivouac. I wonder how they’re doing. They should be okay since the weather here is pretty good right now.

Good night & Best Love,
Bill

1. The speech to which Bill refers is probably Roosevelt’s Fireside Chat of December 24, 1943 in which he reports on his recently concluded conferences in Cairo and Teheran with Churchill, Stalin and Chiang Kai-shek. In this broadcast Roosevelt hints at the coming invasion of Europe and announces Dwight D. Eisenhower as the Supreme Allied Commander in Europe.

Letter 38- December 5, 1943

December 5, 1943
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)


Dear Mother and Dad,

In case you get 2 letters at the same time, this is number 2. I decided to sell my special delivery stamps or to be more exact part of them, but nobody wants them so I guess I’ll have to use them. It seems awfully plutocratic to send all my mail by special delivery air mail at 16 cents a letter, but there’s no use letting (them) sit around until they get lost or sumpin’. However, I am going to save some of them for emergencies.

It’s now 5:30 in the evening or 1730 as we are supposed to call it in the army-but don’t. Since I wrote this morning’s letter I’ve heard quite a bit more about the camp closing up. The inspectors evidently are doing everything possible to keep the camp here but things are so bad they aren’t getting anywhere. The night before last the 52nd. went out on an all night problem and after they came in the next morning 150 men went to the hospital. That’s almost 1/5 the personnel of that battalion gone in just one day. I don’t remember whether or not I told or not but almost ¼ of the 7000 or so men here are now in the hospital. It seems to be some sort of nasal infection which rapidly develops into pneumonia. Nobody is dying or anything like that but there are a hell of a lot of sick fellows around here.

Hamilton, the fellow who sleeps next to me, said one of the doctors at the hospital said he didn’t know what the War Dept. was thinking about. He says what’s really wrong with the men here is exhaustion. First, they bring men up to this ungodly climate, exercise them as if they were trained athletes, inject them with all sorts of deadly germs without giving them much needed rest, and then wonder why the hell they don’t take it. Quote-There’s two ways to do a thing-the right way and the Army way-unquote. Ne’er a truer word was spoken. Oh well! They been doin’ this sort of thing for years and I guess they’ll keep on doing it for years no matter how dumb it is.

I went over to the P.X. recreation room today and fixed their radio for them. Someone had pulled some wiring loose and even an amateur like me could handle it easily. Then I sat down for a short return to civilization. I listened to Andre Kostolanis (or whatever his name is), the Prudential Hour, the news, and several other things. You can’t imagine what a treat it was for me.

After those minor setbacks last week the war news seems to be pretty good again. Everyone here still thinks the war will be over pretty quick in Europe. I’m not as optimistic as some but it really doesn’t look as if it can last much longer.

Hamilton, who’s relatives all live in England, says that war weariness is so bad in England that all everyone speaks about is peace. I guess they’re pretty miserable. He says that they want the blackout lifted right now despite the chance of attack, and that the present govt. is about as popular as Hitler with the British people. If the Germans with all the raids, defeats, blockade, and losses don’t feel a “hellova” lot worse, they must be “supermen”.

Talking about “supermen” if I get through all this training with no nervous breakdown or physical collapse, you’ll know damn well I’m a “superman”. I’m damn proud of myself already. As one of the corporals told us, “If you can get through combat engineer training you’ll be among the toughest men in the world, and if you can’t, it’ll be no disgrace”. That’s sumpin’ in my opinion.

I’ve a lot more to write about what’s going on here, but I guess it’ll have to be later on.


Bestus Love,

“Rookie Billy”

Letter 25- November 14, 1943

November 14, 1943
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)

Dear Mother and Dad,

Well, at last I’m getting another letter off. Don’t think that I don’t want to write everyday as I promised over the phone, but they’re running the very tails off us here right now. As a result I hardly have time to crap much less write. Nevertheless, I’m going to keep trying to write every night.

Today is Sunday and that’s one reason I’m able to get this off without undue and undeserved trouble. I didn’t get up this morning until 8:30—ah wonderful! I didn’t even bother to get up for chow. About 10:00, however, I did go down to the Service Club and bought myself a 60 cent breakfast. I had grapefruit juice, cereal, bacon, two fried eggs, and toast with butter and jam. I underlined the “fried” because those eggs were the first fried ones I’ve had since I’ve been in the Army. I wore the scarf and sweater this morning and they really are swell. I also received the box with the sox last night. They’re so warm that even in the cold this morning and with my low shoes my feet were perfectly warm.

Yesterday the 54th. had to keep score on the range for the 53rd. They were firing for the record. As usual, we had to get out there in the middle of the night and then wait for the blooming sun to come up.

There’s more talk all the time about this camp closing up for the winter. Yesterday we damn near froze on the range and the weather’s been pretty good lately. How’s it going to be later on? Even on a cold day now it’s impossible to get much done. God damn this lousy pen anyway! (ink spill here) Some officers were overheard by the fellow that sleeps next to me betting we’d move out of here by January first. It may be bull but it’s plausible.

How would you like some pictures of me for a Christmas present? We’ve got a portrait studio here and although they hold you up a little, you can get some pretty nice pictures.

Some of the fellows went into Bend today and I told one of them to get some of those pins. I hope he remembers.

I don’t think you’d recognize me now. I’ve lost almost 20 lbs. and I’m only now beginning to gain it back.

Talking about politics, it’s interesting to know how all the fellows here feel. Most of them are really down on the administration and would like to see Roosevelt get licked in the coming election. Up here it’s obvious that the army’s getting too damn big and that the draft is being continued only as a club over the public’s head. As Engineers we get more and better equipment than probably any other branch of the service excluding the Air Corps, but even then there is a terrific shortage, especially in food and such. It’s utterly ridiculous that we should be spending money training some of the men we have here. Some or rather most of them will never be worth a damn to the army- fellows with only one eye-bad feet-deformed backs. Hamilton- the fellow from “Cal” that sleeps next to me has 20/100 vision and even thick glasses can’t do much for him.

Well, better close here. May write more tonight.

All the Love in the World,

Bill

Letter 23- November 10, 1943

November 10, 1943
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)

Dear folks,

This is about the 4th. time I’ve started this letter. This time if the ink runs I’m going to keep right on writing.

Daddy wrote in one of his recent letters that Horton Grant had broken his nose a’ la Dude. Well, guess who’s a’ la Dude right now-nobody else but ‘Yours truly”. Today we were having a free for all boxing match between two squads when some dirty stinkers sneaked up on me while I was slugging it out with another fellow and clouted me in the face. It’s a good thing for him I never saw who it was that did that because when I woke up I sure was mad. The rest of the day I got to lie around the barracks in spite of the fact that I felt fine. It was almost worth the busted puss. Tomorrow I’m going down to have it set. It never hurt a bit but now when I move it I can hear it go “pop” “pop”. Wot a sensation! Well, that’s enough on my ailments.

I your last letter, Mother, you wrote as if you thought the Army was getting me down. If my letters seem to convey that impression, don’t you believe it. Hell, this lousy Army just hasn’t got what it takes to really get me down. Sure, I want to come home; everybody does. I’m disgusted with the terrible inefficiency and GRAFT that even I can see in certain places, but I’m nowhere near down or anything like that. Don’t worry, I’ll make out.

I’ve met some swell fellows here and now I’m glad I’ve been sent to the 54th. I like the cadre, the fellows, and the conditions here better than in the 53rd. A kid named Hamilton from Alameda sleeps next to me & we get along swell. He went to Cal. and is more like the fellows I knew at school than anybody I’ve known in the Army. He’s even a Rep. and a Roosevelt hater. (I hope this isn’t censored)

Gotta close now. The Sarge just blew in about some crap.

Best Love in the World,
Bill

(sketch here)
“Canvas back’ Taylor