Killing Archives - Moss Letters

26 June 1945

Dear Folks:

I hadn’t intended to write tonight but had a nice letter from you with the pictures so I’m in the mood. The pictures are very good. Your dress tied in the back brings back the days when we always were tugging at some part of your apparel. Phil looks well filled out and husky and very nice looking, and it looks like Carol and him make a good pair. He looks nice in his uniform. In his letters Phil says Carol is a ‘slick dish’ or ‘takes the cake’. Dad’s store has certainly grown from its humble beginnings in the Flower house garage. And all since I’ve been away. I hope it grows in the future as it has in the past.

This afternoon I slept – soundly and someone told me I even snored. The first afternoon like that in a long time. We are having it easier now – are getting volleyball courts and baseball diamonds and will probably be on a half-day schedule. Soon we will have a canteen and some movies.

Some evenings we have quite a little show shooting up Japs who wander around and almost every day we bag a few. Yesterday we spotted a group in a cave and after some excitement 7 Japs were dead. Still quite a few running around. About every night a few Japs try to infiltrate back along a road that runs along a little valley near our area. Then flares go up and the machine guns start spitting red tracers. We overlook the road so when things start we gather on the hill and watch like spectators in the bleachers of a rodeo. Sometimes we can see the Japs trying to scramble up the road bank or run when the flare bursts over them. A few nights ago a fellow in the battery who is called the “Deacon” killed a husky Jap who got in pretty close. Being the person he was, jibbed him plenty. But we are pretty safe. It is pretty hard to [end of the letter is missing]

22 June 1945

Dear Folks:

Here I am writing you again. It seems like the day is missing something until I get a letter off to you. I just showered up if you call it that. We dug a small well but it keeps supplied with all the water we need. You can strike water by digging two or three feet. A beautiful evening today, so quiet and peaceful. Here isn’t so much noise now that the island is secured. On patrol today we killed five Japs after a little skirmish. They tossed a few grenades and fired some but we didn’t get scratch. I don’t go along – want to protect that 91 points. I hear that General Stilwell is now commanding the Tenth Army since Buckner was killed. I think ‘Vinegar Joe’ will be alright.

Had a letter from Nancy today – the one with the crossword puzzle in it. Me and the Chinaman will have to get together on it.

There isn’t much else newsworthy so I’ll call this my effort for today.

Love,

24 January 1945

Dear folks,

It’s about a half an hour before mess and I’m taking it easy now after cooling off in the creek so I’m in a good mood to write. Occasionally a Jap will be found at the river, but we don’t worry much about it. The day before yesterday we killed one. He was in terrible shape and weighed probably about 65 pounds, probably had been living on coconuts and grass. One more good Jap.

Well today and yesterday were occasions for a few small pleasures, as pleasures are measured over here. Probably first on the list is the fact that we had steaks yesterday. Pretty good, and the whole meal was excellent. In conjunction we had butter that doesn’t melt —in other words fresh butter. All meant a great deal. And last nite we popped some corn that the Grove’s sent me and poured that good butter over it. And also we got an issue of 12 bottles of beer and of course it went well with the corn. Quite a treat. And while I was munching away, I had three swell letters to read–two from Mom, one from Dad. They were full of clippings which of course I always enjoy. And the nite before that received a fat letter from Mona containing the Christmas Day pictures. Boy they were really good—and I had to show them around. I’m still looking at them often. So yesterday was slightly memorable. No packages have arrived yet and I want them plenty bad. Surely they will come soon unless the boat they were on was sunk.

I was especially glad to hear Dad had gotten his Purina deal through and from all I can judge from where I am, it smacks of a good solid business. Of course you are welcome to use my funds if you desire.

I know the car you bought will come in handy. You know [it’s hard to believe] I will be home someday and I can find use for it. With Phil’s, yours, this one and the ‘T’ you must have the place looking like a used car lot.

Well now I’m going to dig out your letters and see what I can write about. First off church–it would seem just as good to me to enjoy the quiet atmosphere of our own church. I never before realized the dignity and background of our church before, and the thoughts of what religion can be, really help me, especially in situations of this kind. You can actually realize that there is something far greater than mortals.

And here in the middle of this page something good again, I’m really rating on the mail deal. A letter from Dad and one from Mrs. Dick. Her letters are a remarkable reflection of her life and her orderly ways. At the end she quoted a very inspiring passage. Her letter was indeed a good one and that’s an understatement.

Well I just finished chow and now I can get back to writing. A light meal but we have a ‘special’ planned for tonight. Bananas and cream and sugar–how I’m looking forward to it.

Last nite slept pretty good but a damned Jap plane kept circling over so I had to keep one eye open. More nuisance than anything else.

Thoughts of Johnny Hirasawa put me hot all over. The guts of the guy to enjoy our privileges and then join the Jap army as an officer. His guts will end up a grease spot for the vultures to have.

I’m glad the War Department sent you the picture of Dick. My last letter from him indicated he was feeling better and enjoying himself as much as possible.

I especially liked the shot of the table with the candles and dishes. Gee how wonderful it would have been to have enjoyed it together, but the longer I am away the greater our enjoyment will be at some future time. I hope you will soon receive a telegram from me stating I’m homeward bound. Although it’s bad to be unduly optimistic I feel the end of the European war will institute many changes. Actually I hope I won’t get a furlough but will get back on rotation. Furlough entails coming back while rotation will mean sometime in the states. The letter enclosed is an exaggeration, but nevertheless a glimmer of the truth of how we have developed army habits and how we must re-adapt. Read it over—it should pull a laugh.

Our bridge games are no longer. No players so I’m probably pretty rusty. All these birds play is pinochle.

Every evening has meant a listen to the news and the remarkable Russian drive. The last report I had was that they were 145 miles from Berlin. Surely the Germans can not long resist these pushes. We will soon be celebrating the end, although to us here, although it will be a great bit of news, it will just be another day. Also heard tonight that we are 40 miles from Luzon. Undoubtedly the Philippine campaign is being regarded as past, contemplating greater moves.

I just opened a beer and it is really good. I must ration them to make them last.

Well I’m getting writer’s fatigue so I’m going to lick my chops and get ready for our tent. I believe this letter will reflect our good spirits and we compensate for those that were the other way. Keep my mail up-you are doing great. I am especially awaiting the moccasins and the lighter. They will feel good after taking off these heavy GI’s. I guess this is all. Believe what Mrs. Dick told you for I do myself and someday this will only be something for reflection and an inspiration to do all I can to avoid future debacles.

Love,

8 July 1942

Dear Folks:

It’s about seven o’clock and I’ve just finished shaving and sprucing a bit and I feel pretty good so I’ll answer your letter of today and Saturday. Suppose the main topic is the fourth of July celebration. We were granted passes all day Saturday and Sunday and it seemed like a furlough. A bunch of us left about nine o’clock Saturday and went into Yakima about five miles. On the way in we were picked up by an old couple who were herding a dilapidated fruit truck of about ’26 vintage and before we had gone far the whole back end looked like flies on a molasses jar. Our first sergeant and his wife live in Yakima and previously he had invited some of us over, so we went there. I appreciate a bathtub all the more now because when we got there his wife had eight cases of beer frosted down by two hundred pounds of ice. We did it up in big style singing and carrying on. In the evening five of us got a hotel room then took in some dances. Yakima is certainly a pretty town, trees all over and many beautiful homes. And the people appear very friendly. Stayed in bed til Sunday noon then went to a show and came back 5:00 Monday morning. A swell weekend.

The country around here reminds me of the Platte Valley in many ways. From our camp site we get a good view of the checkered green fields and orchards but up on the hills on either side it is dry and barren. Our camp in relation to Minatare would be about three or four miles beyond Lake Minatare.

I’ll dig up your letter and answer some questions now. The first item—my money situation is good. We were paid the third and I had about $35.00 left after bonds and laundry cleaning were taken out. As a matter of fact we get better food here than at the Fort, plenty of salads, fruit, and fresh meat. Tonite for supper we had roast duck and Sunday turkey (I wasn’t here). When we first came I drank water constantly but now my consumption is about normal. At every meal we are given salt tablets and our food has an abnormal amount. We haul the water from the water tower and drink it from a lister bag supported on a tripod. Yes the cadre is still going I believe after we leave here, which is two weeks after this one, July 25. And we are five or six miles from Yakima. Some guy shuttles a bus back and forth but usually we get a taxi for thirty-five cents. I got the picture of you and Kate and I remarked about it most graciously in one of my letters. Perhaps you didn’t get one of mine. Don’t go out of your way for the cookies, I forgot about the sugar rationing. You said something about watermelon in your letter—well I went to a restaurant and ate plenty and everything else I liked. Furloughs still seem in the offing—an outfit that just left here in our division are on them now so it is told. Only fifteen days though.

Our holiday was marred by a tragic incident Saturday afternoon. A big strapping fellow from Missouri with a pleasing sublimity of the hill country drowned in the canal I told you about. The canal is V-shaped lined with cement and about ten or twelve feet deep and the only place where a fellow can get out is at ladders at about ½ mile intervals. The current is so swift that if you get beyond the ladder it is impossible to get out. The last time I was there another of our men almost went down and it took all of us to get him out. Consequently swimming is strictly verboten there but the battery furnishes us a truck every nite to go to the river. C battery is certainly getting the bad breaks. Last January a fellow was shot on guard duty and now this. The skipper (battery commander) took it very hard.

I actually feel better out here and have much more endurance. The heat is pretty depressing at times but it has been cooler the last couple of days. I’ve lost five pounds though.

Tell Quincy I’ll write her tomorrow.

Guess this is about all for this time—perhaps when I feel a little more literary bent, I can write that letter for the Herald. Wish I could see your new home and take advantage of your sleeping offer. Maybe next month, who knows. Say hello to Jim for me.

Love,

I haven’t heard from Wylma since last March 1^st.