Dear Folks:

Better write you while I can still do it.  It appears pretty definite that we will leave either Monday or Friday of next week.  And I don’t think we will be in the personnel center more than three or four days.  Life is pretty easy right now as far as work goes, but the waiting is pretty tough.  I will go to Fort Logan, Colorado to be discharged, and will get travel pay from there to Minatare.  I thought it might be nice for you to meet me in Denver, but after thinking it over, I think it would be better at home.  Reading in Time magazine it looks like about everything will be plentiful by Christmas time.

I’m in not too good a mood tonight and for several reasons.  I don’t like to tell you about them but sometimes I just get so fed up and peeved I feel better by writing.  Maybe it was the heat today – it gets hotter than the devil and you sweat like a washrag just laying down or doing nothing.  And to add to it the food is terrible.  I can’t understand it.  Tonight was beans [lima] and sauerkraut and coffee.  And it’s like that day after day.  I don’t know who gets it but when they tell you the good food goes to the combat troops don’t believe them.  Since we have been in combat from June 1944 it has been that way.  But the biggest thing that gets me worked up is to read about the Blackhawk Division back in the States from Europe after 46 days at combat and less than 6 months overseas putting up a bitch about being sent to the Pacific.  That takes a lot of guts.  A large number of the men in this battalion have been overseas three years and through as much combat as any and yet they have no idea when they will get home.  And yet men with 45 points don’t get overseas service.  Go through three combats or more and yet have no assurance of getting home.  My 85 will get me back soon but the guys with less than 80 I sure feel sorry for.  And yet they want to cut the draft and give the guys already here more service.  The troops over here have taken the beating and lived in places where no white people have been, and taken what the army has left over, and when the war is over, tell them you aren’t through yet.  You know how I feel about the situation.  Some of those European troops weren’t over long enough to feel homesickness.  Well those are my sentiments.

Had two letters yesterday one from Dad and one from Mom.  Both very good.  I was surprised to hear how well your store is going, and I can tell you have bigger things in mind.  I am certainly proud of you and admire you for the courage to do it.  And I feel like [if] you do that, it can grow into a big success.  I know you are the right guy that has the stuff to deal with people and build up a good reputable business, and I know that when you get ready to leave it, it won’t go to pot, because the Moss boys will take care of that.  I feel like I have a lot to say about it but I’ll save it until I get home.

I think I told you not to write any more.  It feels good to write a letter without knowing an officer will be looking it over later.  I know a lot of letters will have some torrid stuff in them now that censoring is off.

Last night I went to USO stage show that I didn’t think was so good.  But there was three girls in it, so I guess it was worth going to.  We have a pretty nice stage considering it was built and designed and built by GIs.  Kay Kyser’s show was plenty good, full of a lot of laughs, and pretty gals.

An organ is playing on the radio right now – some tunes that make me half way feel like bawling.  It seems almost too good to realize I’m going home.  Now I’ll have [to] get used to Nancy grown up, and Philip too.  Had a letter from Phil and he said it was possible he might see me, but I’m afraid it’s too late.  I’d almost stay another week to meet him.  He may be in for some time yet, but he will probably get leaves pretty frequently.  Said he wished he had gotten married while he was still in the States.

I hope you got to see Dan Gettman.  He’s a good hard working kind, but a little slow.  Friendly as the devil.

Well I’m going to knock off for tonight.  I don’t know exactly which letter will be the last but it may be this one.  But if a week goes by and no letters [come], keep in earshot of the phone because I am probably on my way.

Love,