Letter 275- February 11, 1946

February 11, 1946
Giessen, Germany (Hesse)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I suppose you are about ready to murder me for not writing but you have no idea how busy I’ve been. Our vehicles aren’t working, we are in the midst of discharging about 250 DEF’s this week and God knows what else is coming up. We’ve got two new replacements here fresh in from the states but still there is more work to do with us. There’s some talk of giving us a Polish Guard Co. to manage. Boy, we sure hope not! Those Pollacks are a bunch of trigger happy jerks. They are drunk so much of the time that it’s a pity. I’d hate to get shot some night by one of those bums after all I’ve lived through. I don’t know though. Almost all of us here in this company will be going home before long and there’s not much sense in taking us out of here just for a couple of weeks. What I’m hoping that they do is just let us sit. Some companies have been doing that.

I think that you must have noticed the change in grade on the outside of the letter. That’ll mean a little more money and maybe a little better break while I’m on my way home. It took so long to get here that I really doubted that it would ever come through at all. The Lieutenant said that I’m now an officer, non-commissioned. That’s his idea of a joke I guess. It sure must have broken somebody’s heart to see me get that.

I’ve been getting shots for dyptheria for the last few days and as a result I feel pretty lousy. However, I’m glad that I’m getting them since dyptheria is rather prevalent around here at the present time and I’d hate to come down with it. A girl who lived down the street from here and who used to develop pictures for the fellows died with it only the other day. She worked for the American hospital and she received the best of treatment but I guess she just didn’t have enough pep to pull through. There is a lot of flu around to boot. Several people I know are down with it and everybody has at least a touch of it.

The weather continues to amaze everybody in Giessen. Every day it rains and the sky is always cloudy. In fact there are flood levels everywhere. Actually we haven’t had any snow since November and you can see for yourself how far north Giessen in situated. All the Germans claim that people would be feeling better if there were at least a little snow around.

I still have not received anything in the way of mail so I suppose that you are still getting your letters back. That’s what you said in the last letter I did receive. The trouble seems to be that there is more than one 1297 LSC in the theatre.

Well, that’s about all for tonight. I hope that you are feeling well.

Best Love,
Bill

(enclosure)

Dear Folks,

Here is a picture of Hans Hauser our company interpreter. He is 17 years old and came into the Wehrmacht 2 years ago—some stuff, huh? He’s a good kid but we like to kid him about his superman expression in this picture. He’s one of those brats that always has a milewide grin on his kisser so he must have almost sprained his schnozzle for this picture.

Bill


(photo enclosed)-with inscription “in memory of our friendship in Giessen, Germany
Yours,
Hans Hauser
CuLw/Schiessberg O.

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 216- July 19, 1945

July 19, 1945
(Derdingen, Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I’m trying to write everyday now if possible or at least every other day. The mail situation here is terrible and it’s so damn ridiculous. They could make excuses while the war was going on and they were acceptable but for now there’s just no reason for it. It’s always the same in the army. There’s not a blooming thing a person can say or do. It’s just T.S. as far as the army is concerned.

I’m sending you a copy of the “Powderhorn”, our regimental newspaper. They came around the other day and signed me up to do some work for the paper but since then I’ve heard nothing about it.

Having read this issue I’m satisfied that I could do better. Some of it reeks with that self satisfied kind of humor that one often finds in the works of a self-supposed literary genius. I can just see the smirk on P.F.C. Frank Gurley’s face when he rereads that “Oh so cute” little opus “Hot sut Vaihingen”. A little of that sort of thing is not too objectionable but when they start shoveling the ---- about it. Well. That article is about 1/10 description of Vaihingen and 9/10 tribute to the amazingly humorous Mrs. Gurley. Maybe since I know Mr. Gurley, I’m a little prejudiced.

That’s all.

Bill

Letter 202- June 15, 1945

June 15, 1945
(Nürtingen, Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Greetings and Salutations!

I’m writing you this letter thru the courtesy of the Nationalsozialislischer Lehrerbund—whatever that may be and I don’t give a good goddam. I think it’s a teacher association. One doesn’t have to be very intelligent to be a teacher over here—just follow the daily instructions—Adolf Hitler is our savior, Adolf Hitler is God! That is repeated to the little adolescent idiots 3472 times a day, thus producing in merely 10 short years a race of master morons. (Tenno heizo Bautzai) I’m learning Japanese.

I’m really sorry I haven’t been able to write in the last few days but as you can see we’ve been moving. Tomorrow I’m moving again back to Göppinger, but only for a few days. Nürtigen is a somewhat smaller, older town than Göppinger with some rather old buildings and part of what I believe is an old town wall. In the distance can be seen two very forbidding looking medieval castles or “Schloss” as they are called hereabouts. We’re living in an old school building.

As I’ve written before things are not happening very fast these days. Mostly it’s a matter of training and guard.

Oh, oh! Someone just brought in some Cognac. Excuse me. One doesn’t get much of a drink when the entire squad is battling over the bottle. Just as well, I suppose.

Bitche is correctly pronounced just what you think. (Bad English but pointed) When they try to clean it up they ain’t calling it by its correct name and believe me it was a “bitch”.

In several letters you’ve mentioned O.C.S. Well I don’t know about it. I know that I’ll never get very far in this outfit—too many non-coms anyway, but O.C.S. means automatic transfer to the Pacific while there is a good chance of occupation for this outfit.

I thought the Alumni Dinner card was rather cute considering.

I’ve got lots more to write but I’ll give it to you tomorrow.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 188- April 5, 1945

April 5, 1945
(Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

This letter will have to go “free” as I’ve got no V-Mails or airmail stamps, but most fellows say that these get there about as quick as any. I doubt it but it’ll have to do.

I haven’t received any letters from you for several days but I guess it’s just a normal delay. Such big things are going on that it’s a wonder that anything is running smoothly. I don’t get to see a paper for 3 days and I’m so far behind the news that it’s pitiful. I can’t see how or why these Jerries manage to hang on. Evidently, however, they believe their own propaganda and think that if we capture them we will slit their throats. Wot a life. It’s a sad thing when the only people one ever runs across are a bunch of “jerks”. That’s Germany; a few rats and 90,000,000 jerks. I repeat, “wot a life.” To quote our beloved President, “Ah hate woah.”

That’s enough corn for the present so let’s proceed with the letter. I’m getting over the damnedest cold I ever had in my life. It was a cold to end all colds. I’d get coughing spells and darn near choke to death before I was through. The only thing that seemed to do any good is a cigarette—strangely enough. I have “beaucoup” cigarettes by the way. I have 2 unopened packs of butts in my pocket right now, heh! Heh! I can see you drooling now. A fiend ain’t I! Anyhoo, to get back to my ailment; it’s pretty well broken up now.

I wonder what it is like to be home now. It won’t be long ‘till I’ve been overseas a year. Gee! I’ll probably look like an immigrant when I get back. You know, “no spikka da Englush.” No kidding though. I’m getting awfully homesick. It’s worse here in Germany where no one can talk to the civilians.

We’re having nasty weather today, but I’m in a house and that helps matters immeasurably.

I got quite a kick out of our “assets” in German utilities. Hot stuff. Here I am putting the skids under our own dough. I’m glad that the rest of the money is in somewhat better shape.

Well, I’ll close now. I’d like to get a letter off to Jess before dark.


Best Love,
Bill

Letter 174- January 28, 1945

January 28, 1945
(France)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Another day—another letter. I wish I could do that every day. It gets me down more if I can’t write than it does if I don’t get any mail because I know how you look forward to my letters. Today has been one of wonderment to us. The news has been full of odd things. In sectors where a few days back the Jerries were attacking like the very devil now seem abandoned. The news reports are very sketchy but something’s up for sure. Maybe with the Soviet offensive rolling forward so fast and furiously the Germans will let us come in on the Western Front. I hope so. This mess can’t end too soon for me. And then the Pacific, I’m afraid. Many of the fellows over here swear they’ll only go over there at the point of a gun. That’s just so much talk, I suppose but if I have to go, I imagine it will embitter me considerably. There are still too many men back in the states who’ve had no overseas service at all. From the way our new men talk they’ve got plenty of troops still back in the States. Oh, I don’t know. In some ways I feel that all of us should go and finish things up in a hurry and in others I feel like we ought to get a break and get to come home. It wouldn’t be too bad if we were able to get back to the States for 6 months and get about 30 days furlough, but all they can talk about is going home by way of the Suez Canal. (Old “Yoo Hoo” Ben Lear, you know.) I hate to think about it.

I received a letter from you today dated the 9th. It was V-Mail and it took 18 days to get here. Airmail comes in 10 to 14 days generally.

Well, that about does it. I’ll close with another request for a package—cookies, candy bars, anything.

Bestus Love,
Bill

Letter 164- December 24, 1944

December 24, 1944
(France; V-mail)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Yes, it’s the day before Christmas, and I’m still up on the lines. I had some hope for being back for tomorrow but I guess that’s too much to expect. The weather’s become very cold during the last few days but I have enough heavy clothing to get by. I received three letters from you during the last 2 days—I should say 4, dated the 6, 7, & 9 of Dec. and the 21 of Oct. Two letters from you dad, were numbers 21 & 43. You can see how the mail’s coming in. I know you’ll be disappointed but I still haven’t received any packages. Considering how long ago you sent them, it’s a damn shame. I wish I knew whether or not we’re winning this war. The news we get is three or four days old and with all the hush-hush about the big German drive up north it’s getting me down. “The American soldier is the best informed in the world.”----------PFFFFT.
(CONT.)

Letter 149- November 16, 1944

November 16, 1944
(France V-Mail)


Dear Mudder and Dad,

It’s sure an interesting place where I’m now stationed. Every day I learn more and more of interest and you don’t know anything about it. I guess you aren’t interested anyway. The Capt. said all the people at home want to hear is that the soldiers are well—baloney, huh?

We had a movie here last night. It was “The Impatient Years” with Jean Arthur—very good but the lousy French electricity made the damned thing fail about every 10 minutes. I’ve got to go on K.P. tomorrow so goodnight.

I’M SURE HUNGRY FOR THOSE PACKAGES.


Best Love,

Bill

Letter 145- October 29, 1945

October 29, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Today or rather I should say tonight is Sunday. I didn’t write a letter yesterday because I knew they wouldn’t send out the mail ‘till Monday anyhow.

This evening I went out to the movies to see if I couldn’t cheer myself up a little. I didn’t particularly want to sit around and mope either. I’ve got K.P. tomorrow now and that doesn’t make me feel any too happy anyhow.

Christmas packages are beginning to arrive in the company now but I haven’t received any. They’ve got to come soon.

I did receive two letters from you yesterday, however-#18 and 19. They were both postmarked the 17th. You didn’t ask much in the way of questions so there’s not much to answer.

As usual there’s not much doing these days. It’s maddening never to be able to do anything I personally want to do. Really this army gets more and more difficult to stomach every day. Always being told when and how you can do a thing, the boredom, the everlasting inefficiency and stupidity. Maybe I’ve got too sensitive a nature or something but I’m so goddam sick and tired of it. I can imagine how those in the fighting must feel.

I’m going to try and send something home for Christmas. I don’t know how or what but I think it’ll make me feel better.

You don’t want to hear any more morbid stuff so I’ll sign off now. Hope you are in better humor than I.

Best Love
Bill

P.S. Got the rest of the stamps.

Letter 135- October 18, 1944

October 18, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Today we had some more unusual weather—it rained; unusual for anyplace but England. I’m beginning to get that old water logged feeling.

I was telling you about my trip to London wasn’t I? Well I got up about 7:30 the next morning and went down to breakfast. Funny thing about European elevators or lifts as they call them over here. They take you up but you have to walk down. Anyhoo, they weren’t ready to serve so I decided to go out and buy a newspaper. It was Sunday so the streets were plenty dead at that time in the morning. I no more than got out the door, however, than I was mobbed by 3 bozos selling medals, ribbons and various other uniform decorations. I’m entitled to wear an E.T.O. ribbon and a good conduct ribbon but I wasn’t going to let those birds soak me 3 times what they were worth. Not all Yanks are dumbells and not all Yanks are millionaires. It was a nice day oddly enough—sunny with just a trace of haze so after I bought my paper I started to walk down Knightsbridge toward the center of town. I didn’t go far for fear of being lost, and anyway I didn’t have long until breakfast. As I went into the dining room I noticed that there was a tour of London to start about 9:45. We had potatoes and bacon, bread and butter, and some really good black coffee for breakfast. After that I sat in the lounge reading and listening to the American Armed Forces Network broadcast until time for the tour. Most clubs conduct “taxi tours”, but ours was a free tour à la “Shanks mare.” It doesn’t sound so good but it was swell. We had an old retired English major for a guide. He was a typical Col. Blimp but without the walrus moustache. You know, striped pants, gray spats, homburg hat, all the appearances of a conservative gentleman slightly run down at the heels.

Well, we started off—about 15 of us down Knightsbridge toward Piccadilly Circus. The old boy turned out to be quite a card and he turned out to be a damn good guide. He pointed out some of the clubs the old French Embassy and some of the homes of the nobility and royalty—From the outside they looked like nothing at all. Next we went through Hyde Park and to Wellington’s monument. Not much interesting there except the World War artillery monument which is an almost exact replica of a huge field piece in stone. The statues around it were all sandbagged. From there we passed the Palace Guarders. Although the fence is gone they still lock the gate every night at 12:00. British tradition. Phfft! We then walked around Buckingham Palace. It does look like Grand Central Station. The old boy explained the changing of the guard. They still change the guard—no fancy uniforms though (not Sunday). They’re not supposed to change it at all but they figured that they ought to put on some show for visiting G.I.’s so I imagine the guards who have to do the parading love us for it. They hate us anyway so what’s the difference? From there we went to Trafalgar Square. Everything Canadian in Britain, banks, etc. stands on one corner of that square. I noticed George Washington, a gift of Virginia on another corner. I’ll bet they appreciated that. Then we started down Whitehall where we saw the various gov’t. office, war office, Scotland Yard, etc.—No. 10 Downing St., the Monument to World War I’s unknown British soldier and down to the Houses of Parliament and the Abby. I also saw St. James Palace, which looked like Lincoln heights Vail, I believe. Those palaces are the least impressive things of all. I’ll show more details in my next letter. Gotta take a bath now.


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 124- September 21, 1944

September 21, 1944
(England)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Only time for a short note tonight. I gotta do a little work on the old “shootin’ iron”.

I just came back from taking a shower----what an ordeal. The showers here run intermittently scalding hot and ice cold. Right now I can’t tell whether I’ve been fried or frozen.

Boy! Am I bored. Stuff I’ve done a thousand times all day and nothing to do in the nighttime. “This other Eden—this England” I repeat myself, I know; but I can’t help but think of it every time I lose myself in the fog.

I’ll try and write a real letter tomorrow. I suppose that this is pretty disappointing as far as information goes but you said you wanted to hear from me even if it was just a word.

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 84- March 29, 1944

March 29, 1944
(Camp Crowder, Missouri)

Dear Folks,
I planned to make this a long letter but now I have a nosebleed and I don’t know.

Well, things are getting pretty rough around here. Radio code is getting worse and worse for me. It’s funny but I think I’m working harder for this than anything I’ve done yet I’m doing so poorly. I asked one of the officers about it and he said I was doing alright but that I was at a disadvantage since I received such a low score in the Signal test I took at MacArthur. I found out that certain of us in my class are guinea pigs. We are supposed to be somewhat inept at distinguishing signals, but under this new system they think they can teach us anyway. I hope so. I know I can make it if they give me time. I do have a lot of trouble, however. I’m taking your advice, Mother and not worrying. That’s the worst thing a person can do.

It’s certainly boring though. Radio sounds interesting but it isn’t. When receiving code a man becomes a machine. He automatically takes the stuff down and doesn’t even know what it is since it’s all in cryptograph.

XLCK WRMP YL4L etc.

The sets we have are practically useless as far as interest is concerned since they can’t pick up much. Between you and me it’s the nuts. I do want to succeed though. I haven’t failed in anything in the army yet and I don’t want to S.N.A.F.U. now.

The other day we had a big inspection by the Chief of the British Signal Corp and a lot of other officers. It was the usual “baloney”. We had to pretend we were new students and everything we did was rehearsed. The Eng. general was supposed to get a true picture from that----Phooey!

As you know we have an hour of basic every afternoon after school. The boys are now on an Engineer Specialty, “Booby Traps”. These poor guys won’t have a chance on the battlefield. Just about everything they teach there is wrong. The cadre here knows nothing about such things but they get sore if you try to tell them anything. I shoot off my mouth anyway. I’ll be damned if I’ll let ‘em give these poor guys a bum steer that may kill them. The rest of the Engineers feel the same way. They should teach them only 2 things about booby traps-how to recognize and mark them, and then HANDS OFF. I’ve had a lot more experience with explosives than these guys will ever have and I wouldn’t fool with ‘em. I’d let the demolition men handle them.

Boy! I’m sure hepped up over those cookies---drool! Talking about food I bet you’ll be surprised to hear that I’ve become a tea fiend in the last 6 months. Ain’t it a laugh?

Congratulate Ann for me on becoming a citizen.


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


— ••• • ••• — • — •• ——— ••• — • — ——— — •••• • — ••• • ••• —
••—• ——— •—• —•— ••• •• — • — •••• • • —— ——— •—• •— •• —••
TRY TO FIGGER THAT OUT ∕ •—— •—•

Letter 82- March 20, 1944

March 20, 1944
(Camp Crowder, Missouri)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

In the last few days I’ve received 3 letters from you, and they sure have given my old morale a boost. Well I’ve been in Camp Crowder for over a week and to be perfectly frank with you I find the place rather disappointing. Of course it’s been so long since I’ve been home that I can’t really be satisfied wherever I go. The camp itself is really nice, and the weather is somewhat better that that at Abbot but the officers and non-coms certainly don’t measure up. Most of the officers don’t do any work themselves and most of them act rather “superior”. They pick on everyone constantly and yet there is little in the way of discipline. I guess I just ain’t never goin’ to like this here war.

The thing that is really getting me down, however, is this radio school. It’s about the dullest and most nerve wracking thing I’ve ever done. I thought it would be interesting but it isn’t. We just sit in class all day long hour after hour and have that crap banged in our ears. One finally gets so he can’t distinguish one letter from another. It makes me awfully nervous and to top that I don’t have much of an hearing or ear for it, so I have just about twice as hard a time as most fellows. I am working hard though and I’ll get it in the end. They’re now thinking of giving night classes and that will be hell. I guess you just can’t get a good deal in this army. I’d sure wish I could just write one letter to you in which I had nothing to gripe about.

I’ll answer the letters by just taking one and starting in.

The situation with the folks back East is certainly the nuts isn’t it? It appears to me to be a very unhealthy situation. I guess it’s just another one of those things that have been giving us a pain in the neck all these years.

I certainly have missed you of late. I guess even though I knew that I couldn’t get home on furlough I had some forlorn hope of seeing you right up until I left.

You mention the P.W.’s here and ask how they’re taking it. Those dumb Nazis still think Hitler’s going to win the war. Imagine! What can anybody do with saps like that? They stand around and laugh at the rookies here and never realize that it was a bunch of amateurs not so much better than the rookies that licked the pants off them. They all wear their hair long like Johnny Weissmuller and love to flirt with the girls around camp.

I sure like that deal about Higgins wanting me for Major—after all this time. God, the more I see of people the more I love dogs. By the way, how is “her Nibbs”?

That guy, Dude, sure has turned out to be a false alarm. Not saying I should have been Major, but he’s certainly not making much of a showing for an “ex-Harvard School cadet commander” is he? He’s evidently about the biggest pill I’ve ever known.

About Crowder to get back to the dreary side of life, they’re beginning to chicken out on this rating business for radio men. I might have known it. I can see the dirty end of the stick coming my way already.

Evidently I’m not getting payed (paid?) this month end so I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask for a few bucks.

Best Love,
Your pore sad sack son,
Bill

Letter 80- March 13, 1944

March 13, 1944
(Camp Crowder, Missouri)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I’ve only time to write a short note tonight, I think. Boy is this camp sumpin’. The fellows from Camp Abbot and Leonard Wood are just floating in a sea of amazement. I’ve never seen such a boy scout outfit yet. They don’t carry rifles and their training is a laugh. I found out today that they, and myself, therefore, get ten minutes free time out of every hour all day long. Though life, huh? I don’t know whether I can take it or not. The funny thing about it is that these signal boys think they’re having a tough time. Boy! would the old Camp Abbot boys get a laugh if they could hear them.

Today at radio school we started code work. It’s pretty nerve-racking but in true Camp Crowder style they make up for it by having the radio play nice soft music over the earphones whenever the key is not in use. Some stuff.

I sure have gotten a shock around here as far as prisoners of war are concerned. They’re all over the camp working at various trivial jobs and you may run into ‘em any time. A group of 20 or so will only have one guard. They look and act a lot like Americans and seem to be very interested in us. Of course, we can’t talk to them and it wouldn’t do much good since their English is atrocious. I hear they keep the one’s that speak good English locked up all the time.

Well, I’d better close now. I know my letters have been not too informative of late but it’s the same old story. Nobody knows nuttin’.

Best love in the whole world,

Bill

Letter 77- March 2, 1944

March 2, 1944
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Here I sit like a bird in the wilderness waiting for something to happen. I’ve been on detail all this week now and it looks as if I may be on detail for the rest of my life the way things are going around here. One day I work in the supply room or spread sawdust around the boxing ring—the next I’m room orderly or K.P. It’s really the craps. There’s no work but it’s so boring that a fellow can’t help but be blue. All the rest of the men are leaving on their furloughs and the place is as lonely as a haunted house. The worst part of it is, however, the fact that we don’t know where in hell we stand. It’s the same old story. Keep ‘em in the dark; Don’t be definite about anything; and if you don’t know the score yourself, make it look like a military secret. Do you wonder why a guy gets so damned disgusted? They won’t give us a furlough but we’ll probably still be sitting around here a week or maybe a month after the furlough men get back. Right now I don’t know where, when, or if I’m going, but I know where some of these big shots here ought to go.

I’ve been going to the show just about every night this week—anything to keep my mind off this lousy deal we’re getting up here. Really that is just about the sum and substance of what I’ve done lately. One thing that’s been a godsend has been those language books. After I’ve spent an hour or so studying them I feel as if I’ve accomplished something—a feeling one rarely gets in the army. I don’t think anything is worse than to work 8 hours and then realize you haven’t done a single thing worthwhile.

In the Casual Co. right now there are over 1350 men and jobs for about 100. You can imagine how that works out.

Did you receive the money order?

I’m glad you liked the pictures. I’ve got some more coming but I don’t know if I’ll get them before I ship out. I’ve got another one I took of the platoon, but it’s so big I can’t find an envelope large enough to send it in.

That just about sums up the news from here. Revolting isn’t it?

Best Love, Bill

P. S. After reading this over I realize it sounds pretty pessimistic. Don’t take it too seriously. I’m just mad.

Letter 74- February 27, 1944

February 27, 1944
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

This is “posiloutely” our last official day in training. Yesterday we graduated and this morning we turned in our equipment. Ever since we’ve been sitting on our tails in the barracks taking it easy—quite a novelty around here. Well, it’s sure swell to be all through. I’m no longer a trainee but a full fledged Combat Engineer soldier. HORSE---!

Yesterday we went out and paraded around like a lot of damn fools in a snowstorm for about 2 hours and 45 minutes and then the Colonel, the old fossil, got up and made the following speech. ‘Trainees! I (ha! Ha!) have made you strong, sturdy, healthy, robust, and tough! You are now ready to go into combat. I (great emphasis) have made you the best Engineers in the world. May God speed you in your future battles.” It’s a wonder God got any mention at all.

I wrote a letter to Bishop Gooden and another to Ann and Reiney last night, so I am caught up at least a little bit on my letter writing. The note to the “Bish” is a veritable masterpiece of linguistic manipulation. I used just enough four bit words to make it good. You probably already read the note I sent to Ann and Reiney.

I sure wish they’d come out and tell me exactly what they’re going to do with me. Oh well, SNAFU. I wish I had something interesting to tell you but I ain’t so---------



Bestus Love,
Bill
∫—(dropping spirits)

Letter 52- December 26, 1943

December 26, 1943
(Camp Abbot, Oregon)

Hiya Folks,

It’s sure some laugh. They told us that we’d have to work today Sunday, because we got yesterday off, but when this morning rolled around the officers and noncoms had such hangovers that it was a real laugh. We fooled around all morning and got the afternoon off, so I’ve got enough time for a letter.

This next week is really going to be the nuts. We’ve got 2 night problems and one of them is an all night affair—sleeping out in the snow with sleeping bags. Phooey! In spite of this, however, the work is getting relatively easy now—no more rat races and we get a lot more time to do just such things as this. The toughest part of army life with the exception of combat is over.

Well, we had a white Christmas and today the roads and walls around camp are as slippery as hell. Blair Hamilton and I have fallen on our fannies at least 10 times apiece in the last 2 days. Wot a life.

Boy! am I enjoying the candy that you sent me for Christmas and that cake---wow! As Awful Fresh MacFarlane would say “It’s gooder than anything.” Talking about Awful Fresh MacFarlane—he is a friend of Blair Hamilton’s father and so we had some swell candy for Christmas.

I’m glad that you’re sending a camera up. I can take some swell shots around here, and I know you’ll be glad to see them. The scenery is beautiful around here, and I know you’ll get a kick out of pictures of us in uniform.

I’m on K.P. again tomorrow so I probably won’t get a chance to write. Tonight I’m going to the show. I haven’t received any mail from you for quite some time now but I expect some tonight. The way the mail is run around here anything can happen.

The food here is steadily improving now that we’re off field rations and are on garrison rations. This afternoon we had steak—imagine! It sure is great to get steak after you get to the point where you can’t look a hunk of goat in the face.

Tomorrow the 51st. goes out on the 3 week problem. They’re well equipped and the weather’s not too bad but we’re all praying they can’t make it. The poor guys have got a hex on them. Everybody hopes they fold up so the rest of us can get out of here. (That is, get out of the last 3 weeks).

I’d better close before this gets too boring.

Bestus Love,
Bill

(sketch here)