Letter 100- May 11, 1944

May 11, 1944
(Camp Crowder, Missouri)

Dear Mother and Dad,

I’m writing this note from a little sandbag shelter on the side of a little hill about 8 miles out of camp. I’m completely surrounded by trees and whatnot. In the shelter there are 5 of us. Two are operating a 284 (radio) and the rest of us are writing letters by the 25 watt bulb which is the only light for miles around. Hot stuff, huh?

This C.P.X on bivouac or whatever it’s called is really a laugh. We might as well be back in camp. There’s about as much similarity between this and bivouac ‘ala camp Abbot as there is between Wall St. and the Kremlin.

May 12, 1944

At the end of that last line we had a power failure so I went t0 bed. It’s now nine o’ clock in the morning. In two hours I go on shift. We’re on 6 hours and off 18!?!!! It’s really very nice here as long as you watch out for snakes. I’ve never got so much sleep since I’ve been in the army.
I’ve got detail, sorry, must close now.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 90- April 13, 1944

April 13, 1944
(Camp Holeinthewall Misery)

Dearest Mater and Pater,

I feel as corny as hell tonight as you can tell from the salutation, so I guess you’re just out of luck.

Before I go any farther or is it further let’s get a few questions settled. Yes, do sell the bow and arrow. It’s too powerful to use around home. About the amateur handbook—I believe I have one already. I bought it up at the P.X.

One question you asked about was whether or not I was learning anything practical about radio repair. No, the fact of the matter is that despite the fact I’m racking my brains trying to learn this crap. It’s really of no real value to us. All we learn is 5 letter code groups, cryptographs, and that’s no good when it comes to commercial radio. One thing I have learned is how to read new ticker tapes, but I taught that to myself.

You wrote that you find it difficult to write a newsy letter. Well, it’s no different in the army and I imagine it’s even worse. We follow a routine that’s just the same day in and day out. It’s really discouraging.

Last night we went on a 16 mile hike and [I] got my fanny in a sling for marching too fast. The poor little Signal Corp Boy Scouts couldn’t keep up. To top that off all the Engineers got in dutch for singing in ranks on the hike. At Abbot the made you sing—damn near, but here “Es ist verboten”. Wot a life! We work like dogs doing nothing; it’s the truth.

Richard must be some pumpkins on that mandolin. I’d hate to hear him.

You were talking about the political views of the Chinese and about the Russians muscling in. According to the Chinese fellows I know the communist army in China is much more insignificant than we are led to believe and as far as giving Chaing the air they say the average Chinese especially peasants and common people worship the very ground he walks on.

I’m on fireman here all night tomorrow. Nice what? They give me about 3 hours sleep the next morning and then send me back to code. Baw!

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 83- March 26, 1944

March 26, 1944
(Camp Crowder, Missouri)

Dear Mother and Dad,

Today I received two letters from you in which you quite rightfully bawl me out for not writing. It just goes to show you what code is doing to me. I don’t even know whether or not I’m coming or going. Believe me, I’m sorry. I guess I’ve been spending too much time at the show and P.X. lately. I’m now copying code at 7 words a minute but have not started sending yet. We have 7 hours a day receiving that code so you can imagine how refreshing it is to get away in the evening. You were right about code though; it doesn’t bother me anywhere as much as it did.

Things are pretty much the same here, however. We follow an easy routine day in and day out without much change. However, today we got schneidered. Today is Sunday but we had to go to school anyway because a bunch of big shots from England were here on a tour of inspection. They’re holding some sort of a conference here and there’s a rumor going around that Roosie is going to be here too. Anyway I worked all day. No generals came around, however. They were probably all somewhere hoisting a few.

Gee! I really don’t know what else to write. We haven’t been doing anything remarkable of late. Yesterday we went on a hike. The Signal Corps thought it was tough stuff—The Corp of Eng. almost died laughing. I’ll write more regularly from now on. It may not be much but I’ll write.

Best Love,
Bill


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Letter 81- March 16, 1944

March 16, 1944
(Camp Crowder, Missouri)

Dearest Folks,

Well, I’m just about getting into the swing of things here at Camp Crowder. I’ve had about a day and a half of radio and if one of these days they drag me home in a straight jacket, don’t be surprised. This is the kind of stuff that can actually drive a man screwy. If I don’t have a nervous breakdown I should make a good operator. I’m slower than most, as usual; but I’m a lot surer of myself than most. Code is very simple and surprisingly enough for this reason it’s pretty tough. One’s mind has a tendency to rebel against that constant repetition. It’ll be a cinch if I can get into the rhythm of the thing, but meanwhile it’s certainly no nerve tonic.

As I’ve told you before this is really a nice camp, but it’s still just an Army camp and therefore—phhht! As Engineers we rate around this joint. We’re combat troops and the Signal Corps boys aren’t. For some reason the cadre around here seems to respect us. In fact I think they must be afraid of us. Of course, maybe that’s because “rough, tough and robust”. In the Engineers if you don’t agree with a non-com you tell them so—not disrespectfully mind you, but the important thing out at Abbot was to get the job done and if we had a better way to do a thing we were free to say so. Well, we can do that here and these boys go into a spin. They don’t know whether we really know out oats or (are) just tough. We don’t try to act tough but compared to this bunch we do know our oats.

Closing now. Be sure to address letter exactly as below.


Pvt. William W. Taylor, Jr. 19203811
Co. B-37
Camp Crowder, Mo.


Bestus Love,

Bill