Letter 125- September 22, 1944

September 22, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I feel tonight like the last rose of peaches. My physical condition is not bad with the slight exception of a “beastly code in na head” but mentally-----phiffft! If you know what I mean. I don’t know whether it’s the army in general that’s all “Snafu”. I’ve been in now for almost an entire year but as far as I can see I’m right back where I started. At times it makes me feel down right ashamed. Six years of military school and here I am—a private in the rear rank. I know I’m a good soldier and more qualified for combat as an infantryman or engineer that 99% of these birds around here but still this job of being an eternal replacement is making me feel like a third rate bum. If I only was in an outfit. I was even tempted to join paratroopers. I thought better of it, howev—of course—naturally. I don’t mind risking my life for my country, but intentionally committing suicide, no! but definitely.

But enough of this silly griping. Let’s get down to brass tacks. There’s very little of anything special to write about. That is, there’s very little they will let me write about ( I know, too many prepositions at the end of sentences).

When I was home last I noted that you were quite concerned about whether or not I wanted to go on with college after this mess is over. I reiterate the answer is yes. I’ve seen so much ignorance in this army that it seems more important than ever.

Best Love,

Bill