Letter 271- January 23, 1946

January 23, 1946
Giessen, Gemany (Hesse)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

The mail situation over here became much better yesterday when I received from you seven letters. Three of them were recent while the other four were rather old. One of them was dated Nov. 28th. Two others two were postmarked the tenth and eleventh of December. The last three were written on the sixth and seventh of January. That’s something anyhoo.

The vacuum cleaner belongs to you all right so don’t send it back or anything. I wrote you a letter about the damn thing but evidently it like so many other letters was lost in the rush somewhere. I see that you don’t care particularly for the new setup on points and so forth. I don’t care particularly for it myself but that’s the way it goes. I’ve been in the army so long now that I’ve become dulled to the whole thing. I guess that’s the thing that they want. I will tell you one thing, however. Some of what they say is the truth. Most of the Germans realize that they have been so wrong in this war but there’s at least one out of four whose soul is so warped with hate that he has lost all sense of perspective. They are the dangerous ones. In fact they are the deadly ones. As long as people like that exist in this country we will have to keep the imperative. I sometimes have Germans approach me and say, “You don’t realize how insane some of our people are. They will have to be watched like a hawk or they will try to do the same thing again.” As a civilized human being I say they will have to be watched. As a soldier I say they should be exterminated. Many of the more balanced Germans will agree with me on that. I don’t know what to say about people who would gladly destroy themselves and the rest of the world just to satisfy their hatred. I know what I’m talking about. The world will have to be willing to pay the price or perish. I hope this doesn’t sound too much like a sermon but it is the truth. You just have no idea how some of these people think. I want to come home in the worst way but others will have to fill my shoes. They can blab all they want and it won’t change the situation. In short I don’t disagree with what the army wants to do as much as I disagree with the method they are attempting to use. It would seem to the average GI over here that the people at home are divided into two camps. Those who in their earnestness to get us home would throw our victory away and those who wish to keep the original crew over here while they forget everything. Both attitudes are altogether wrong. Enough of that.

I certainly am becoming interested in the changes that are being made in our house. The old shack must be getting to be quite a jernt. It seems that everybody that I’ve ever know is getting out of the service but yours truly. Do you think I’ll ever get out? I’m afraid that pretty soon I’ll even begin to look like a Kraut. Oh! What a horrible thought. If I have to stay in the army another 8 months (I’m not contemplating it) I will be entitled to wear a hash mark and will be able to start drawing longevity pay.

Thanks for the condensation of all the letters that you’ve written to me. It’s nice to at least know what I would have received in the mail.

That’s about all for tonight, I guess. I drove over 200 miles today and in a two and one-half ton truck on these lousy cow paths that they have the nerve to call roads over here it’s no mean job.

Good night.


Best Love,
Bill

Letter 178- February 15, 1945

February 15, 1945
(France)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I don’t plan to send this letter V-Mail but it’s all I can find to write on. It’s another lovely day with me in a passably comfortable place. Yesterday I got paid and found out that for this past month I’ve been a Private First Class. Some stuff, huh? At this rate I might make buck sergeant in 30 or 40 years. I don’t think I can wait that long, however. Anyway it means about $4.80 more a month. That’ll help a little. Along with that Combat Infantry pay I’ll be making about $75 a month. Tomorrow, by the way, I’m sending home a money order for $50. That ought to do my account some good. How much have I got now, anyway?

The news of the settlement of the estate back east is being eagerly awaited by me. It sure sounds good to me. Twenty-five thousand of those “greenbacks” would certainly make for post war security in the old homestead, what?

I received 3 letters from you today written between Jan. 20 and Feb. 2 and still you’ve received no mail from me. Circumstances make it impossible for me to write for quite some time but you should be getting mail by now unless something I don’t know about has happened. I know how worried you must be, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I won’t say “C`est la guerre”, however, since that phrase has always seemed rather provoking to me. Someone uses that for an explanation and I feel like slamming the bloke in the kisser.

The news is pretty good these days and I hope it’s better by the time you get this letter. We had an orientation lecture today and the Russians claim their big drive hasn’t even begun yet. Oh boy!
Gotta close.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 165- December 24, 1944-2

December 24, 1944-2
(France; V-Mail)

(part 2)
Dear Mudder and Dad,

In case you didn’t get part one, I’m feeling fine “all stuff like that there.”

Received a letter from Jess the other day in which she said now I was living “dangerously” like Bob Hughes. I had to laugh at that. I don’t know what Bob’s doing but I only wish I were living his dangerous life. I know she means well, however. She said she sent a couple of packages. I thought that was nice.

I just received the latest news. “RUNSTEDT 35 MILES INSIDE BELGIUM.” That’s bad. The worst I’ve heard yet. Please write as much as possible—what you had for dinner—if it was washday—anything. Well, all my love.

Bill

Letter 141- October 24, 1944

October 24, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I received your letters of the 12th. of Oct. and the 14th. I must say that I was shocked to hear of the death of Horton Grant. I believe I was closer to him than anyone else at Harvard. Honest to god, I can’t figure this damned world out at times. A nice kid like that has to die before he even starts to live while the very scum of the earth goes on and on. I noticed by the papers the other day that Baron Toyama, head of the notorious “Black Dragon” society, had peacefully passed away at the ripe old age of 93, I believe. There’s a man who has dedicated his entire life to unheard of violence and terror goes like that at that age. Why he didn’t even have to witness Japan’s coming anguish and destruction. Meanwhile, young people who have never done any harm are dying by the thousands all over the world, some of them like Horton even without the slightest reason. At times I find it difficult to retain my belief in the right.

To turn to happier thoughts—your letters are beginning to arrive pretty regularly now. It’s too good to be true, I know but they’re coming in about 10 days.

The weather was quite cold today but it didn’t rain. I like that better. I haven’t been doing anything spectacular lately as per usual. I went to a show last night—old picture. In the army nothing exciting happens ‘till on hits the fighting, and then it’s too damned exciting.

Well, the bottom of the page gives me a chance to sign off.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 140- October 23, 1944

October 23, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Due to circumstances far beyond my control but much to my liking, the company doesn’t have to train today. Therefore this letter is being written in the early morning instead of in the evening as usual.

To start off with the weather as is customary—it stinks. An ice cold wind is blowing puffs of equally cold rain in about 8 directions at once. It’s really “mizzleble”. I’m sure glad I’m inside by a nice warm fire instead of battling with the elements.

I got your letter of the eleventh, Dad. You know more about Chester than I ever did. However, about that strawberry and cream complexion; that must have been before malnutrition set in. I did see those timbered houses and cathedral.

I was sorry to hear that Bob Brewer got wounded. The face and neck is a hellova place to get it too.

Boy I’m sure glad to see Hanson get it. That S.O.B. should. When I think of all the guys over here in far worse shape than that rat I really boil.

That’s a “hellova’ note that you can’t get cigarettes. We can get about 7 packs a week, sometimes 10. That’s not bad. Here’s the rub. According to Stars and Stripes there’s god knows how many millions of packs sitting on the docks over here rotting for lack of transportation. Ridiculous, isn’t it? I received the stamps. Thanks a lot.

About that allotment, it’s a $15.00 class “E” allotment. I took it out at Camp Reynolds. I don’t need much money over here—nothing to buy!

I’ll write again soon.

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 119- September 1, 1944

September 1-2, 1944
(England-still)

Dear Mother and Dad,

I received three letters from you today: one dated Aug. 15, one Aug. 17, and one dated Aug.21. The V-mail letter of the 15th took a week to get to me after it had arrived in the U.K. Wot a system. Your letters were certainly newsy, however I was rather surprised to hear about Herbert¹. I guess in his condition any illness is pretty bad, however, I note by your latest letter that he’s better or at least there is no worse news.

By the time you get this letter you’ll probably be pretty discouraged by the scarcity of letters from me, but believe me over here it’s a “hellova” lot different than it is in the states.

The Harvard boys sure get around don’t they. (I read Ozzy’s write-up) Ozzy sure never impressed me as the type of fellow that would make a Fortress pilot. I noticed also that Tony Trainor was killed over in France. It’s sure a hellish thing when a man does all he’s done and then gets run over by a friendly tank. He got quite a write-up in all the British papers.

The war news is so exciting and fast moving these days that I hardly dare mention it. The bloomin’ war might be over by the time you receive this letter.

Again this isn’t much of a letter but I’d better close.

Best Love,
Bill

September 2, 1944
(England)

Dear Folks,

Well, I didn’t write or I should say send the letter. That’s obvious isn’t it. I’m sure down in the dumps tonight. It’s Saturday. I haven’t got a pass. Tomorrow (Sunday) I’ve got K.P. We’re having some lovely English weather, and I’m overcome with the blues in general. My cold is worse and I’ve got a touch of diareaha, diarrhea, diarrhea (I’ll take a chance on that last spelling). All in all everything is just wonderful.

I hardly know where to start tonight. Several questions that you’ve asked and which I should have answered long ago have just popped into my mind. One thing is that course in German. I’ve still got the papers and all I have to do is send it to the London offices but I’ve kept hesitating due to the uncertainty of the situation over here. I don’t know from one day to another how long I’ll be here or where I go when I do leave.

I never did receive that telegram from Elizabeth² but I have written to her. You know, as much as I hate this army life it’s doing a lot for me in some respects. I think it’s making me more certain of myself. I’ve had a greater chance to stand on my principles, such as they are, and have succeeded in this so far. Having principles is a drawback in the army and one has to pay for living up to them, but nevertheless personally I feel stronger for having them. As I reread the above, it sounds like so much baloney and muddled at that. I was trying to be serious, however.

At any rate I think I shall be able to live a fuller life when this is over. I want to do things and see things and just for the “helluvit" I want to kick the pants off the very first gazebo who up and sez “Hey! You!”


Best Love,
Bill

1. Herbert is Bill’s paternal uncle.

2. Elizabeth is Bill’s paternal aunt.

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”