Letter 226- August 10, 1945

August 10, 1945
(Derdingen, Ger.)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

It is now 1800 hours of what might be the greatest day of my life; the end of this God awful war. As I write an announcer is speaking in German of the Japanese surrender offer. A.F.N. has announced that if Japan officially surrenders within the next few hours as is expected they will warn us by a 30 second sound pitch over the radio. I guess we’re all praying that this is it. I’ll underline that last phrase. It used to send chills running up and down my spine. It meant attack. Some of my letters must sound a little dramatic but it seems to be in the air.

I’m sure that never has anything happened so fast. Five days ago a year, maybe 2 years seemed inevitable in the Pacific but now it may be that in a few months when I come home that it will be for good. My mind is not conditioned for that kind of thinking. Anyway I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

Well, “whatayouknow”?! I received your package with the shoes, etc. today. It was postmarked the 17th of July. Not bad, eh? I’ve got the shoes on now. It’s the first pair of Oxfords I’ve had on since I was last home on furlough 14 months ago. They feel funny but good.

Boy is there a storm raging outside. 3 days it’s been going on now, and in August too. Someone should take Europe weather and all, dump it into the toilet, and flush it down good.

This school we’re living in is a rather modernistic affair, “L” shaped, with one side practically all glass. As a result the cold comes right in and there’s no coal for the furnace. What a situation, what a country, wot a life. I don’t know what I’m talking about. Four months ago I would have thought this was heaven or better.

Most of the boys went to a show in Stuttgart tonight but personally the long, cold truck ride didn’t appeal to me & since the pending big news (I hope) was so interesting I decided to stay here. I should have liked to have gone though at that. The play is the Broadway hit, “Kiss and Tell”.

Thanks for the package.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 225- August 9, 1945

Thursday, August 9, 1945
(Derdingen, Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Three nights ago I walked downstairs, dropped a letter to you in the mailbox, walked back to my squad room. Then I thought I was dreaming. The boys were standing about the room with mouths agape and issuing forth from the radio were the excited statements of an A.F.N. announcer. It sounded like the contents of an ordinary science-fiction magazine. “ATOMIC BOMB DESTROYS JAP CITY” . I don’t believe any of us believed it at first but as news flashes continued to pour in we became wild with excitement. It was really something. While we were still so enthused over our wonderful and terrible new weapon last night another excited announcer broke into a program to tell us the Russians had entered the war.

In 3 days, even less, the complexion of the war has gone from a hard fight ahead to the possible collapse of Japan in days.

During the years when Japan was committing such atrocities I often wondered when she would “pay the piper”. For her 2500 years of treachery she is paying a terrible price; Extinction.

The Seventh Army today suppressed the 100th Div. newspaper, “The Century Sentinel”. It was silly because everyone in the Div. knew what the contents were; our sailing date—between Sept. 1 and Dec. 1—Oct. 6 is the consensus of opinion.

Boy! Even as I read over the paragraph above the news came pouring in. At 11:00 some bigger news is supposed to come in.

I’m getting mail okay now, but you must be having a tough time of it. That little Combat Badge should be home by now.

I sure hope they don’t decide to send us to the Pacific via Siberia. I think some awfully morbid stuff, don’t I?

That’s all for now.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 224- August 6, 1945

August 6, 1945
(Derdingen, Ger.)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

To be perfectly frank I don’t feel like writing tonight but I owe you a letter and so here it is. There is really quite a bit to write about but it’s so hazy and indefinite that I just don’t. Sometime this week we are supposed to be alerted. That simply means that we’ll be told where and when we’ll be leaving. Semi-official rumor has it that we’ll leave France for home in late October and will be in the Pacific by late January. However the latter part of that is merely supposition. I know because everyone here from his own experience knows troops can’t be moved that quickly. Ships don’t go that fast. However the first part of the report is probably true. This, of course is way ahead of schedule but events in the Pacific are moving so fast that it is inevitable. My only fear is that Japan will begin to go to pieces so rapidly that we will be sent direct. There’s not much chance of it but it’s always a possibility. However, there’s a good chance that I’ll be home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Let’s just pray that Japan folds before I even get home from here.

I feel sorry for the Japs even if they do act so brutal. I’ve seen what total war is on this side and it’s only a taste of what Japan is blindly walking into. The feeling here rightly or wrongly is that Russia has something up her sleeve. Russians in this area are out and out in declaring that Russia will jump all over the DESPISED JAPS at the right time. The Germans claim Japan is insane for not accepting our generous offer and say Germany would have surrendered in ’43 to such terms.

Next Saturday we’re going to some little town about 60 miles away and fire weapons and have a general review of basic training insofar as weapons and marksmanship is concerned. By the way, I’m burned up because they say here they have no verification of my being an Expert Rifleman.

That’s about all. I hope my mail is coming through better now.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 215- July 17-18, 1945

July 17, 1945
(Dürtingen, Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Nürtigen, Göppingen, Dürtingen, Blürtigen—I’m telling you I’ve got “ingens”. In Alsace it’s “berg”—Lemberg, Saarberg, Glassenburg, but here it’s “ingen”. Why can’t it be sumpin’ romantic like “Alt Schmats” or “Guzzlaufbien”? But no! It’s always “ingen”.—Phooey.

This may sound like bull but just as I wrote that last line I did get a letter from you, Dad, which keeps me from being altogether burned up at the mail situation.

Well, we’re guarding Russian D.P.’s again. We’ll be getting rid of them this week and it’s a good thing since the way they’ve been getting on their high horse lately somebody’s going to get hurt, and you know we wouldn’t let it be us. It’s too bad too, because actually the Russians are a rather likable lot. The trouble is that they’re emotionally so unstable.

(to be continued)

July 18, 1945
(Derdingen)

Dear Folks,

Yesterday I misspelled Derdingen and today I mispelled misspelled. Anyhow I didn’t get it right one of them times.

It’s a beautiful day to loaf—hot in the sun but cool in the shade so of course we have to go out in the sun and practice for a regimental parade or rather a review. The entire Regimental combat team will be there. In this war a regiment can act independently like a division. There will be 3 Infantry battalions with a full complement of jeeps, 1 service battalion, 1 medical company with ambulances and jeeps, on Engineer bn., one reconnaissance group (armored cars), cannon co. (75mm. howitzers) one bn. of field arty. (105mm. howitzers) and the anti-tank company (57mm. guns) plus 100 piece division band plus 100 piece 399th Infantry drum and bugle corps. The reviewing stand is surmounted by 3 flag bearers with white starred red banners forming 3 stars on a red background; the insignia of a Lt. Gen. (Devers is inspecting us). But get this; this is the “piece de resistance” or something. The Gen. flies up in a small plane, taxis up the reviewing stand, deposits himself and then the plane assumes an honor guard position along with the armored cars around the stand. It’s somewhat reminiscent of the pagents that Adolf used to put on before the war. I must admit, however that a marching regiment with a 200 piece band is a thing of beauty and majesty.

I suppose it’ll all have died by the time you get this, but tonight it would seem that the war in the Pacific is just about in the bag. I suppose such rumors are inevitable since we’ve made such progress in recent days. All day today it’s been—Stalin has or is about to hand over Japan’s unconditional surrender to Truman. To me that seems absurd but when one week the Japs are fighting so hard for Okinawa—suicide planes and such and the next we are bombing and shelling the heart of the Empire at will with no opposition at all I don’t know. They do some of the queerest things—surrender without having a shot fired at them, refuse to fight. “NICHTE VERSTAY”.

Well, that’s it.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 213- July 15, 1945

July 15, 1945
(Vaihingen,Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Just get a load of that snazzy letterhead. Boy! Is old “Able” Company going highhat.

Regimental insignia is bursting forth all over the place these days. There’s one above the Co. C.P.’s door, at bn. C.P. and regt. They are about 8 by 6 feet in dimensions. Here the other day I crudely struggled to draw one of these for you and then they drag in the new stationery. How do you like this fine pointed pen. It would be swell if I only could write like a grownup rather than a five year old.

Well, they set moving day back again. Now it’s supposed to be Tues., that’s tomorrow, but I won’t depend on it. According to Stone our Jeep driver the place we’re going is better than this joint , but of course that’s not saying a great deal since we almost have to wear gas masks in this town.

Well, here it comes—how about a nice package from you all. You know what I want, candy, cookies, fruit juice, gum and so forth. And Dad, see if you can get me a new webb belt up at school. My old one was so caked up with French and German mud that it’s almost “kaput.” Socks and hankerchefs would also be appreciated. The supply room here can’t get anything for us so everyone is writing home for even G.I. stuff. Some situation, eh?

I hear over the B.B.C. this morning that the fleet is now becoming bold enough to sail right up to Japan proper and shell the very living daylights out of them. They’d better surrender while they still have something to surrender.

That’s about all for now.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 199- May 30, 1945

May 30, 1945
(Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

This morning I got to thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve written you a letter and I’ve got to say that it made me just a little ashamed. I guess that I’ve been too interested in going to the movies, swimming and so forth. What even makes it worse is the fact that I’m receiving your letters now within 7 days. According to the “Stars and Stripes” it’s flown all the way now and service may be even quicker now. Yesterday I received mail from you post-marked in North Hollywood on the 22nd. That’s really traveling.

Everything is about the same as before here. Yesterday we got shots—no yellow fever, and now ma (southern accent) left arm is stiff as a board.

They’re letting Jerries out of the camps by the thousands now & what gets me down is that the officers all are allowed to carry pistols and every 50th. enlisted man can carry a rifle. Sometimes I wonder why the hell I fought.

I hate to think of some of our boys getting murdered some dark night by those very same weapons.

We have a swimming pool in our company area now and yesterday I took a swim. It was nice but the weather is still a little too cool.

I found something very interesting yesterday or rather the day before. I took some papers out in a vacant lot to burn and on the ground I saw a brown little leather change case. It was in miserable shape and as I picked it up to throw in the fire it was heavy. When I opened it I found a odd assortment of old coins, the oldest of which dates to 1671—no by God, a little brass coin here in front of me says 1624—321 years old. I’ll put it in the letter. Several of the coins date back to the Napoleonic Wars but the most interesting of all is an American “half-dime” dated 1857, and again there is a Civil War “brass” Indian head penny. You’ll note that the coin I’m sending you was clipped by some 17th. Century crook. He probably ended up on a noose.

In front of me now is a half a dozen or so letters from you I need to answer. Oh! Oh! I guess that thing you’re most interested in is if and when I go into the Pacific. There are rumors galore but we’ve been told to settle down as we may be here for a long time. Good, huh?

Right now I can hear the radio down stair raving about the blasting of Yokohama. Evidently “allies ist kaput” both in Tokyo and Yokohama.

If this keeps up all the Japs will be sleeping in their rice paddies by the late summer.

Well, that’s about –30—

Best Love, Bill

Letter 195- May 11, 1945

May 11, 1945 (V-E+3)
(Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,
I know I’ve been neglecting you “sumpin” fierce for the last few days and if you’re mad I don’t blame you in the least. I did write you a letter on V-E Day but the paper was so thick that I couldn’t get the damn thing into any envelope I could find.

Well, the great day has come and gone. On V-E night I believe 99.44% of everybody in the E.T.O. was plastered—even the kraut civilians. I guess everyone is happy that the thing is finished. To quote a popular G.I. phrase—“all is Kaput fur Deutschland.”

Considering the fact that we were fighting so bitterly such a short time ago, it’s awfully hard to believe that the war here is really over. To tell you the truth there’s been a “helluva” lot of times when I’ve seriously doubted that I’d be alive to see this day. After having gone through that there’s certainly no doubt in my mind about there being a God. Shrapnel and machine gun bullets can just miss a person so many times and still remain in the realm of coincidence.

Right now I’m in a small town “Somewhere in Germany” and it seems there’s a good chance of my staying here even as long as a year. I hope so. It’s about time combat troops got a break.

Last night they announced the point system and there’s a good chance of me getting my discharge sometime in the fall of nineteen-eleventy five; that’s if I’m lucky. I’m not complaining though as long as they keep me on this side of the world. I hope, I hope, I hope.

We’re quickly adjusting ourselves to garrison life. Military courtesy, clean uniforms, clean shaves, this and that. You know Harvard School stuff. Not that it isn’t a very good thing, but after living like a bum for months it’s a bit confusing to say the least—but I love it. I don’t care how tough they get with us. The toughest training schedule in the world would be a picnic as compared to our lines.

I’m due to get new clothes in a few days—clean new trousers and shirt, shiny shoes, overseas cap, Eisenhower jacket, the works—Boy! Will I slay ‘em. That’s what it takes to impress these dumb Jerries. The fact that we chewed up one German army after another doesn’t mean a thing. We’re not good soldiers if we don’t wear a snazzy uniform. What jerks! When I get the outlay I’ll have a snapshot taken and send it to you.

That about does it. I know you feel as happy as I do right now and let’s hope all the Japs slit their throats to save their faces so we’ll be together again in the near future.

Best Love, Bill

Letter 194- May 3, 1945

May 3, 1945
(Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I’m standing guard this morning which entails doing practically nothing so I figured that it would be a good time to get a letter off to you.

We seem to be having a bad cold spell here with frost and even an occasional flurry of snow. It’s pretty cheesy weather for May at any rate. Of course it’s pretty nice when we go on a hike but otherwise I don’t like it. When I think of last winter, however, it seems pretty tame.

The setup here is pretty nice—good houses, meals, shower baths and generally peaceful atmosphere.

Last night after I sent my letter we heard of the surrender of the Italian forces, or rather the German armies in Italy and the fall of Berlin. It must be all over but the shouting.

The kids here are pestering me something fierce. Every two minutes they come and hand me a couple of Jerry bullets that the Krauts left behind in their haste.

Yesterday A Company had a baseball game with B Co. We lost. It was a lot of fun though. I was lousy. I never could bat but now I couldn’t do “nuttin’”. I haven’t had a ball in my hand for such a long time.

I can’t think of anything else to write. Isn’t it awful? If they keep me in this blooming army much longer I won’t know my own name. There’s two Taylors in the squad now and I’m getting so I answer to the name Powell too. It’s on the back of my helmet liner and everyone who doesn’t know me just takes it for granted that I’m Powell.

Well, I think I’ll try to get something on the radio.

Bestus Love,
Bill

Letter 193- May 2, 1945

May 2, 1945
(Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Heil Hitler the dog is dead!!! I remember that as being the punchline to a joke and it seems appropriate now. Last night I heard the first announcement of his death over Radio Hamburg. I pride myself that I was able to translate it from the German. “Achtung! Achtung! Unser Furher, Adolf Hetter ist gefallen”. Strange and simple. Twelve years of tyranny gone in a few words. Tonight we understand the old S.O.B. died of a brain hemorrhage. No heroes’ death. Tonight the entire Wehrmacht appears to be dying. All German troops on the Italian Front have just surrendered unconditionally. Three German Field Marshalls, including Von Rundstedt himself, have been captured within the last 48 hours. When you get this letter it will be ancient history but now it’s all too much to take in. The war here must end in a few days at most and then I’ll be “sweating out the C.B.I. (China Burma India). So much has happened recently that it’s just too much.

Well, I haven’t received any mail from you for several days now but I guess we’re using so many trucks for hauling Kraut prisoners to the rear there aren’t any left to carry mail. That’s okay with me. It’s not bad, however, since I’m now in training again—just like the States. Really life is pretty pleasant these days. It’s nice to be a human being once again.

I really don’t know what else to write. I am well. I’ll write a good letter tomorrow.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 192- April 28, 1945

April 28, 1945
Somewhere in Deutschland

Dear Mudder and Dad,

I just received 4 letters from you and my only complaint is that the damn things don’t come in the right order. First I get one letter dated the 17th. or 18th. of the month then in a few days I get letters dated the 6, 13, 15, und so weiter—how do you like the Jerry lingo? If I stay over here much longer you won’t be able to tell me from the rest of the lousy Krauts—I hope not. It gives me a laugh to hear all the places the news commentators put this outfit. We’d have to have wings to be all those places. That doesn’t burn me up though it’s just these people back in the states who say, “go get ‘em, boys! Show ‘em what you’re made of.” If they only knew how desperately scared we are at times like that they’d keep their big mouths shut. They ought to come here and try it out. I think that’s why the average doughboy had such great affection for Ernie Pyle. He knew how miserable war is and wasn’t afraid to admit he was scared—flag waving heroics from the sideline is just plain bad taste.

I’m sorry that my combat badge won’t be in with the rest of those souvenirs. Here’s the story. I lent the badge to a buddy of mine to wear to Paris. While he was there he was approached by another palooka from my platoon who told him that I said he could borrow it. Well, that’s alright but the palooka then proceeds to get sick and go to the hospital. That doesn’t bring my badge back, however. I figure I can get my C.O. to write a note as you once suggested, but I’m still sore.

I’m getting all set for garrison life, training schedule, pressed uniform, newly painted helmet, etc. I sure hope it lasts a long time. There was a report tonight that Hitler offered to surrender unconditionally to the Western allies but not Russia. With “fat stuff” resigning “á la bad heart” the Jerries must be pretty well finished. That they continue to resist at all is stupid. It’s a far cry from the summer of 1942 isn’t it?

You don’t have to worry about me falling for one of these Kraut heifers. I see an American girl around here every now and then and they make these fraus and freuleins look pretty damn sick even if our girls are dressed in khaki. It is strange to see these Red Cross girls though dressed in OD’s, combat boots, field jackets and steel helmets.

Some people have all the luck. Dude Robinson in my humble opinion hasn’t got enough brains to come in out of the rain yet he gets this swell deal out of the A.S.T.P. What do I get—glory—phooey—two phooeys. Of course, I’m grateful that I’m alive a kicking. Considering everything that’s remarkable, but still…..

I was sorry to hear about Freddie Brennen—first mission too. There’s always something pitiful about being cut off so damn short.

No! I wasn’t part of the gang that took that outfit of Jerries who were running that “horror camp.” I believe that if my outfit had caught those birds there wouldn’t be anyone left to try.

You don’t have to worry about me endangering myself by getting souvenirs the hard way. I’m just a scavenger at heart—that’s all. Someday I’ll tell you about Aunt Marge.

I saved this for last. I got packages yesterday. The orange loaf was so strong that it was just about ready to start taking vitamin pills. Everything else was O.K. though and Jesse’s candy all right.

That does it.

Bestus Love,
Bill

Letter 186- March 29, 1945

March 29, 1945
(Germany)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

This has sure been an exciting time these past few days. Armies tearing here and there. The war’s been going so fast that we really don’t know what the score is. I suppose the headlines at home are a foot high. There have been so many sensational advances during the past few days that the Stars and Stripes has to put items that ordinarily rate two full columns on the front page somewhere in with the comics. Patton, I fully expect, will be fighting in China in a few weeks if he continues to push as he has during the past week.

The mail situation is about the same. I believe airmail is still faster that V-Mail, and now they don’t even put the V-Mail in envelopes.

I suppose you are eager to hear about Germany. I don’t know what I can say but I’ll tell you a little anyway. Germany, as much as I’ve seen of it is rich and beautiful. In towns, of course, the effectiveness of our air corps is quite evident. Nevertheless, Germany has France beaten all hollow. The houses in Germany are clean, bright, and well appointed. Even their plumbing is second only to ours. The people appear well fed and are quite anxious to please us (they’re quite afraid of us) and, they all claim to be ANTI-NAZI, GOOD PROTESTANTS OR CATHOLICS as the case may be, and every damn one of them has at least 3 close relations living in America. About that time I feel like slapping them in the face with a rifle butt. Oddly enough they don’t know or pretend they don’t know who they’re fighting. One man thought we’re English, another Russian??!!, and several said we’re Canadians. Either they’re terribly stupid or awful liars—maybe both. That’s about all that’s general enough to write. Censorship is pretty strict.

I don’t remember whether or not I told you in my last letter but I received a letter from Bob Brewer the other day written on the 11th. He told me about his wound and getting married.

It’s raining like the devil outside now. I’m glad I’m indoors.

Chow will be here in a minute so it gives me an excuse to close.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 182- March 6, 1945

March 6, 1945
(France)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Thought I’d knock off a short note to you before lunch. There’s not much to write but I know you want to hear something. I’ve been doing a lot of relaxing for the last couple of days, seen a couple of shows and wandered around in general. Nothing that amounts to much but it suits my mood. Until one gets back to a place like this he doesn’t realize the nervous tension he’s been under. Compared with the rear echelon boys most of us look tense and tired. Didn’t notice it before.

This morning’s paper says that American troops are across the Rhine, and have trapped some 8 divisions or more. I can’t see how they keep going. Well, it shouldn’t last too long unless they all are determined to die for “der Fuhrer”. If so we’ll oblige the S.O.B’s.

I haven’t received any mail from you for about a week now. I hope there’s some at the company when I get back.

Best Love,
Bill

Letter 181- March 5, 1945

March 5, 1945
(France)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

It’s been a long time since I’ve written to you. It must be 10 days or better. The last one was written from the field but this one is from behind the lines—not just a little behind as usual but way, way behind. You see having been on the line for better than 3 months I’m entitled to a four day rest and this is it. Boy, oh Boy! Am I taking it in. Life here is wonderful. No guard, K.P., responsibilities of any kind—just loaf, relax, and do what I want to do. It does seem odd not to hear the thunder and whistle of the guns but I can take it. I’m located in a fairly large town where it is possible to obtain most anything I want. There are ice cream and pastry shops, places to buy souvenirs and also there is a photographer. I haven’t inquired there yet but if it is possible I would like to have a picture and send it to you.

We have movies every night and various sorts of entertainment during the day—swing sessions, a snack bar, and occasionally a 100 piece military band—very good too. We eat in a modern hotel where the food is excellent though there’s not enough for a growing boy like you know who. We have French waitresses and generally music with our meals. You can see that after living for months in the mud all this luxury is pretty nearly overwhelming.

The news certainly looks good this morning with the German 15th. Army pinned up against the Rhine. I just hope that by the time you receive this letter the news will be even better.

That about does it.


Best Love,
Bill

Letter 179- February 18, 1945

February 18, 1945
(Somewhere in France)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

While I’m trying to invent a new way to start this letter I might as well begin writing. Enclosed is a money order for 50.oo. It’s been some time since I’ve been able to get off $50 to $75 a month. This month I saved some of my pay for rations or so that if I get back for a rest, to Paris or something else equally as unlikely I will have a little cash on hand. That’s somewhat awkward, but I imagine that you can understand it.

I’ve been fortunate in being able to see 2 movies during the last couple of days. The pictures were both old, I guess, but they were new to me so I’m content.

While I’m back off the lines like this there’s not a “helluva” lot to do except eat, sleep and write letters. As usual it’s all just a matter of sitting and waiting. I’m waiting for mail, or “chow”, or a rest, or an attack, or some other damn thing. We call it “sweating it out”. I guess I’ll never quit “sweating it out” ‘til they hand me my discharge papers.

I haven’t heard much news for the last few days but from what I read in the “Stars and Stripes” I understand things are going all right. Frankly I’m damn sick and tired of this mess and hope we begin pushing on the Western Front before long.

I received 3 letters from you today, the last having been dated February 4. You did manage to sound cheerful despite the fact that you had received no mail from me for nearly 3 weeks.

I’ve got some bad news for you. I lost my watch. I know where it is but that doesn’t do me any good now. Probably some Kraut has it or maybe another G.I., I hope. At any rate it’s gone and “I ain’t got no watch.” Too, it was practically the last one in the platoon. What I should have is a pocket watch. Maybe I can pick one up somewhere.

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 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 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 173- January 27, 1945

January 27, 1945
(France)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Here I am again. Still hanging around. I’ve been having a pretty soft time for the last several days and I should have written more letters than I have. I guess I’ve been more or less in the midst of the reaction one generally feels when he’s back resting. All I’ve done is eat, sleep and listen to the news of the Russian advances. So far they seem amazing but I still have my doubts as to whether the drive will end the war. Everyone out here expects the worst and hopes for the best. It saves a lot of heartbreaks.

I’ve now finished the last of the edible contents of the 3 packages I’ve thus far received—a few candied peanuts—Oh me. That reminds me. I sure owe a lot of letters. I got one from Richard, Jesse, Mrs. Levinson, and then there’s your letters. I’ll try to answer them all today. By the way, Jesse also sent me a radiogram—had me worried when I first saw it.

I finally got paid the other day—first time since October. I want to send that old $40.00 check home now but the only way I can do it is to endorse the check and mail it. I don’t like that but if I carry it with me much longer I’ll lose it for sure. I think I’ll put it in this letter—I will. $40.00.

The next time I get paid I should draw combat pay and it’s barely possible that I may make P.F.C. before long. That would be another $5.00. If and when all this comes about I’ll change that $15.00 class “E” allotment to $30.00 or $50.00. If I change my bond allotment to $7.50 I can do that and still have a few francs for P.X. rations.

By the way, we got P.A. rations yesterday—2 cans of beer, 3 cigars, 5 Butterfingers, a box of gumdrops, a box of hard candy, and 6 pieces of Whitman’s chocolates. It’s too cold for beer for me so I traded them for candy. We’re supposed to get those rations every week but ha! ha! Everybody gets everything—That is, everybody but the frontline infantryman. I haven’t been eating so badly of late, however. Even had French toast this morning and I managed to do a little inveigling here and there.

Better close now. I’ll write again as soon as I can.

Bestus Love,
Bill

Letter 172- January 23, 1945

January 23, 1945
(Somewhere in France)

Dear Mudder and Dad,

Hmm! It’s been 9 days since I’ve been able to write you a letter but I know you’ve been following the doings of the 7th. in the papers and know that the weather on this front has been miserable to say the least. We’re well equipped but one can’t write a letter when he’s covered with snow and ice and has a couple of inch thick mittens on his hands. Oh! This is a rough life. When this thing is over I’m going to slug the first bird who says “what did you do during the war?” Really. When I was in the Engineers I had no idea just how rotten a deal the Infantry got. I think the extra $10.00 they give us is a because there’s not one man in a thousand who wouldn’t give all his pay and more to be in any other branch. We have 10 times harder a life than anyone else. At least one can certainly be proud of being an Infantryman. Most people don’t realize it but the combat infantry badge means a “helluva” lot more than things like wings and so forth. One has to go through hell to get the former.

Now for some good news. My Christmas finally arrived. The day before yesterday I got a box of cookies from Grandma and Jess. Boy oh boy! That fruitcake was moist and as fresh as if it had just been made. It was delicious. The other box contained the compass, candy, gum, game, etc. it’s sure swell. The box from State College was full of cookies and I must say they were expertly packed. Not one was broken, although the box had obviously taken quite a beating. Half the box was full of Tollhouse cookies and the other half was full of ginger cookies with sugar icing. I passed out some cookies and a very few pieces of fruitcake to fellows who had given me some of their packages, but mainly I feasted myself on the contents. It was the best eats I’ve had since I left home.

Today I’m again back in a warm house toasting myself by a fire and generally enjoying myself. The best thing of all, however is catching up on my sleep. In a foxhole one sleeps 2 hours and then stands guard 2 hours. You know how that works out. No one gets any sleep at all. Even now I find myself waking up at regular intervals during the night. Lying on the cold ground really does your kidneys a lot of dirt too.

We’re supposed to get P.X. rations today—2 cans of beer, some candy bars and cigars, etc. I’ll probably trade my beer and cigars for candy. I like beer, but I like candy better and as for the lousy cigar……

We’re in the midst of a “helluva” lot of overoptimistic speculation on the outcome of the current Russian offensive. Rumors have been rampant for the last several days. As for myself I’m suspicious of all the claims that are being made. These things have blown up in my face too often.

I certainly wish they’d try a little harder to get some news to us. Battalion or somebody stole a radio somewhere and they get radio news but by the time it’s passed by word of mouth down to me it’s so garbled and exaggerated that it’s worthless.

Getting pretty near chow time so I’d better cut this short.


Best Love
Bill

Letter 168- December 28, 1944

December 28, 1944
(France; V-Mail)

Dearest Mudder & Dad,

Well, it’s 3 days after Christmas now. I’ve got a newspaper dated the 25th. here right now. “GERMANS 20 MILES FROM SEDAN.” “IN 3 DAYS NAZIS RETAKE LOSSES OF 3 MONTHS.” It’s just like a kick in the face. Even the pessimistic thought it would be over by late spring or early summer at the very worst, but now what? I hope things’ll be better by the time you get this.

Still no packages although mail is coming through fine. The weather continues cold but sunny so life isn’t too miserable. Haven’t been feeling so well today, however. Same cold thing I was in the hospital at Abbot with. I guess I’m not getting enough of the right kind of food. Hope you both are well.

Best Love,
Bill