Postwar dreams Archives

21 September 1945

Dear Folks:

Well I have taken the first step towards getting home. Two days ago I left my outfit and have moved to the Personnel Center where we are processed and grouped prior to departure. I will be discharged at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. I tried to get it changed to Ft. Logan but said they couldn’t do it. But I guess it doesn’t make much difference as long as it is in [the] States. I think I will be here only a day or two before we get on the boat. I feel like a rookie all over again going through this processing – checking records and equipment, but as long as it means getting home, it’s okeh.

Had a letter from Dad the day I left my outfit. It was certainly a good one. I can imagine how Mom feels about us boys getting home and I feel the same way. The boat ride will seem forever. I heard today that points are lowered to 70, October first. Now Dick will be eligible although it will probably be several months before he gets back.

I know I won’t be disappointed in either of you. Being away so long, being more around all the time, and seeing so much construction, home will be more of a castle than ever. I just hope I haven’t changed too much and can be successful someday and be what you expect me to be. I really intend to try. As we are so near to getting home we often talk about what we will do after the war and I think that a decision now will make or break a lot of guys. More and more I believe Dad’s philosophy that nothing is impossible if you want it bad enough. I want to get a good education first and I would like to put what dough I have into something for the future and maybe Dad has some ideas. But [we] will talk it all over soon.

Saw the stage show ‘This is the Army” last night. Very good. Some liberated prisoners of war were guests.

Well I may be on my way in a day or two so get ready and don’t let Mom faint when I walk in.

Love,

11 September 1945

Dear Folks:

I hope every letter I write will be the last one, but I’m still here and as long as I am I guess I just as well write you. However we are going from day to day now expecting orders at any time. I made a 200 yen bet that we would be out of here by Saturday the 15^th, and I think it’s still a good bet. [200 yen is only $12.50]. The days are dragging by and every one seems long. I don’t have anything to do now – my replacement came two weeks ago and he has taken over. About all I do now is loaf and in the afternoon sleep. I feel lost and kind of nervous – you know what I mean. For instance this morning in order to kill time I went over to the barber shop for a haircut, and hung around the motor section until dinner. I’m letting my hair grow now – trying to make it look like a civilian. It’s been pretty short up to now.

Had a letter from Dad together with a Free Press today. I’m glad you got to see Dan Gettman. I didn’t know he had any trouble with his hip, but there is a lot of guys [who] have ear trouble from the guns. He used to talk a leg off me about Scottsbluff.

The past two days it has been raining in cloud bursts and typhoon proportions. It may hold us up a few days in leaving. I’ve never seen it rain so hard. It will come up in a few minutes and drive down so hard you can’t see more than fifty yards. Boy how it rains. The sky may look good one minute and the next it will be pouring down.

Well I can’t think of anything more to write about. Don’t write me because it’s just a job for the mail orderly to forward it.

Love,

7 September 1945

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,

6 September 1945

Dear Folks:

For the first time in over three years I can write you an uncensored letter. Censorship was called off today. I imagine the mailbox will be overflowing tonight. In a day or two I’m leaving the outfit and going to the personnel center to await transportation to the States. I don’t know, but it shouldn’t be long. I hope to get back around the 5^th of October but you realize I could be ten days off either way. That’s the way it looks now. If Nancy was excited about going to Denver you can imagine how I feel. You must be getting bored at hearing me say that.

Dick was located at the far north end of the island and that’s where I visited him. He flew to Tokyo and was to land at Atsurge Airfield. He was looking forward to it, but wants to get home as bad as I do.

Our camp is a half mile from the southern tip of the island, south of Naha.

Had a letter from Phil and Nancy today. I’m afraid Phil will be in for more than six months – it depends on how they decide this duration business. I hope they don’t stop the draft or cut the points way down for overseas service or else guys like Dick already overseas will be over quite a long time. It kinds of burns us up to see how the guys in the States get the breaks. But I hope to be one of them before long.

Well so much for this time – saw a show ‘Roughly Speaking’ last night. I could see so many things that were typical of our family. Better see it.

Don’t write any more. If things change any, I’ll let you know.

Love,

3 September 1945

Dear Folks:

Had a letter from Mom today telling me about your Denver visit. Quite a bit different than when we went as a whole family and had the car loaded down with everything. I sure hope you had a good time. I know Dan Gettman had been sent to the hospital and was later evacuated but I didn’t know he was at Fitzsimmons. He got deaf from the guns. I wished you could have met him – he would have told you a lot about Okinawa and how I was. He used to take a leg off me, but I usually liked to listen.

I’ll bet the corn and watermelon are ripe at home. A National Geographic magazine found its way into our tent and it had an article about Nebraska with pictures of Scottsbluff and the Valley. It really got my interest.

It looks like I will be on my way [home] very soon although I can’t say for sure just when. These last days seem very long. How I would like to fly back, but I suppose it will be by boat.

I suppose Phil is on the high seas somewhere and I can imagine Carol is anxious but she shouldn’t be worried. One of the guys in my tent had a wedding anniversary a few days ago. Married six years and been home only two years to celebrate them. We drank a beer to commemorate it. Glad to hear Nancy was going to Denver. Yes, I can hear all the giggling that must have went on.

Bill E. told me in a letter of his [illegible] when he was overseas that someday he was going to marry Helen Wood – so I guess he will. Starting from scratch I think I better snatch a young co-ed at Lincoln.

And don’t bother with any Christmas boxes. I hope to eat apples on Halloween night with you or see the sugar mills begin their fall run.

When I get back I don’t want to see many people, just stick around the house and be a lazy bum. But I probably won’t for long. You don’t know the wonderful change it will be.

Of course the Japanese radio sounds much different than it did before. Begging the people to be fixing and build for a greater Japan. I could go to Japan if I wanted to but I just couldn’t do anything to keep me away from home any longer.

My last couple of letters probably sounded like I was a little peeved but it’s because everyday seems so long until I get started back. Don’t forget if you don’t hear from me for a week don’t write any longer. Also advise Reader’s Digest of my old and civilian address.

Love,

30 August 1945

Dear folks:

Had a nice letter from Mom today so before the show maybe I can answer it. I could tell in your letter how relieved you were and the end of the war made me think of your relief more than mine.

We are sitting around living from day to day for our orders to come through. I think it will be very soon and I’m hoping I can be lucky enough to fly back two days that way, and 18 by boat. I wish I could tell you definitely but we don’t know that. Dick has gone to Tokyo. He was looking forward to it. He flew. It will be quite an experience and he will probably get back fairly soon. He will have plenty to tell you on his return. There’s no need telling you how great my anticipation is after four years. Nancy grown, Phil engaged, Katie married with a child, besides all the other changes around town. And how I’m going to enjoy being lazy around the house. I know you know how I feel. Had a letter from Gladys Johnson, formerly Gladys Davis and she says by all means go back to school and take the room I had lived in. She says her mother has been waiting four years for me to be back in my room. If I get back by the middle of October I’ll have a good stay at home before going to Lincoln [to go to college]. But I’ll have to get a lot of new clothes first. I can use the three hundred [dollars] I get on discharge for that.

Here on the island, Jap officers and enlisted men are roaming around the hills getting what Japs remain to surrender. But I’m in no danger. Our area is a big one like a city, not isolated like in combat. And of course I’m being careful and making sure I’ll get back. And I pray plenty for that and thank God we have been so fortunate. Dick has told me he prayed plenty. That time he was pinned down for four hours while the Japs tried to get him, he knew he was going to die and wished they’d hurry up and kill him. He’s had some close ones. But it has affected him and you’ll be proud of him when he gets back.

Well, it’s about time to go to the show. If you don’t hear from me for a week, don’t write any more because I’ll be on my way. But I’ll write at least that often until I leave.

Love,

27 August 1945

Dear folks:

Boy what a hot day. This afternoon thought I’d get a little sleep but this tent radiates heat like hot bricks, so that’s out. After rolling around and wasting time thought I’d better write a letter.

Received Dad’s letter about the end of the war. I can imagine just how everything took place as you said. Dick and I said when he was here last that the first thing Mom and Dad would do would be to go to church, and so you did. And I can see both of you being so happy you were crying. I can’t quite believe it is over myself. And we have certainly been blessed. During the height of the Okinawa campaign, Dick came to see me one afternoon and he was so shaken and nervous that I was very worried. Over a hundred shells lit in his area and he was in bad shape. I was very worried about him. And I knew another campaign would go hard on him, so when the end came, a great weight of worry about him was lifted. But he looks very good now, husky and good natured. I don’t think he’s changed much although he’s probably a little wiser. He looks better all around than Bob W. or Duane Carroll.

And we are both looking forward to some good times when we get back. I expect to leave in a short time and it’s definite now. I guess I better send you a wire or call when I hit the mainland. Of course I’ll take it easy and be careful.

Well, I’ve got to get ready for retreat and that means get cleaned up so I better get started. Hope you had a good time on your vacation. It’s a lot different than last year.

Love,

14 August 1945

Dear Folks:

I just spent the last two days with Dick, and I know that would be good news to you, so before I get into bed I better tell you about it. He called me up yesterday at noon and said he wanted to see me so I made arrangements to go. We had a good time together, talked a lot, read each other’s mail, and of course discussed the big news about Japan. I was kind of expecting the official news of Japan’s surrender to come over while we were together but we’re still waiting. Now tonight I hear over the radio that Domei has announced that Japan has accepted the terms – now we are waiting for something official over the American radio. As a matter of fact a few moments ago they said to standby for some important news, but as yet it hasn’t come. Of course I couldn’t tell you how we both feel about it – I know you feel the same. Dick was looking good and husky. He is a corporal now – probably he wouldn’t mention it to you. He’s very well liked in his outfit and sure is a regular guy. I know what his plans are now and what is going to happen to his outfit but I can’t tell you about it. Of course it isn’t bad. Last night we went to the show together and nearly got rained out. Then today he showed me how close he came to getting ’it’ a while back. He was supposed to go out in an M-8 armored car as he had often done, but this time for some reason he didn’t go. And he was lucky for in his usual seat the cushions were full of bullet holes from the Jap machine gun. Better give another thank you to the Lord. Of course you know how he will tell it. But he’s having it pretty decent now although not anything extra. However I don’t worry near like I did about him now that the war appears to be near an end. It’s hard to say what the war’s end will mean towards our getting home – probably a new plan again. Just when I get eligible for something another scheme comes out. Of course, like it must [be] to you, days seem long as the devil until we can see you again. One thing we agreed upon was that when we get back we are going to completely [be] lazy and independent for a little while. And of course as we always do, we talked about the wonderful food you would provide and how you both would bust your necks to do everything. And then we talked about how the guys around home are marrying the Russians and vice versa and saw the wisdom of some parent’s advice given us when we were temperamental and less prone to reason. We thought Dad should stick with the gas company for a while at least and that it would be a very good idea for Nancy to go to Washington for a while. I think she should see something besides Minatare too or she may fall in the rut that some others have. We couldn’t get over the way the guys and gals are marrying back there. According to Dick his friendship with Helen Emick is purely platonic, but his tent mates give me a different story. Finally I left but this time when I left I felt much better than some other times I’ve known. To have the war end now is almost unbelievable and like taking a great weight off you.

Well so much for this time. I’ll try to write some more about it tomorrow night.

Love,

16 July 1945

Dear Folks:

I’m taking it easy this afternoon but can’t sleep much ‘cause it’s too hot, so maybe I can catch up on a few letters. Boy, it’s been hot the last couple of weeks and today it’s really warm, one of those prewar, stateside days when you went to the lake and swam and ate watermelon. Have had no opportunity to go swimming although the ocean looks cool and blue from the hills. At some spots in the hills there are beautiful views of the harbor and coastline, green near the beach and deep blue farther out. Looking down on this at night, it is a myriad of lights, like travelog pictures of Rio de Janiero. I know you would be amazed at the vast amount of construction and activity here. It seems almost a miracle to me how fast big machinery and installations go to work and how fast the landscape changes. Now we have broad three and four lane highways where before our trucks had to be tractor-towed to get through. When I returned to places I had seen earlier in the campaign I could hardly find my way around. The face of the island had been changed so much. In the villages and cities the civilians are picking through the rubble piles salvaging what they can so the mess can be cleaned up and bulldozed into a nice area. And in the fields the civilians are hoeing and harvesting what produce they can. I saw a big bunch yesterday and I noticed there was almost no guard around them. They seem cooperative and quiet.

I’m glad you wanted me to go to school because before I thought maybe you didn’t like the idea so well and thought perhaps I should do something else. I’m looking forward to it like everything.

Well the heat has deadened my stimulus for any more writing so I’ll call this good. Dad thought I might not want to talk of my experiences but as a matter of fact I am looking forward to telling you all about them. At least to you but I don’t know about other people. Well so long for now.

Love,

7 July 1945

Dear Folks:

Kind of late to be writing but I’m feeling kind of fidgety and restless while waiting to go to bed. Kind of a tiring day, so darn much paperwork it seems, but a shower brightened me up a little. It seems like the guys can always rig up a shower no matter how scarce materials are. Gas drums and a few pieces of gas pipe make up the installation.

A few nights ago I saw the show “Mrs. Parkington”. I thought it was very good. As yet we don’t have movies in our own area but it shouldn’t be long until we do. Wasn’t able to get done in time tonight or I would have gone. The hot rainless days continue seeming to weigh you down by the sultry heat, but the nights are pretty decent although some nights I don’t cover up until pretty late in the morning. Last night a few Japs around kept me awake, machine guns, and flares going off. Don’t think I’m in much danger because it isn’t as bad as it sounds. Really what it turns out to be is more of a sideshow for many of us. Last night a Jap got caught in a flare in the middle of a road junction and he was a gone pigeon before he could get away. Anyway, about one o’clock I finally got to sleep. Then this morning two or three Japs were cornered in a cane field and I sat on a bank watching the guys surround it and toss in grenades. Working in the office I don’t go on patrol but sometimes when things happen close I can get a spectator’s look.

Well tomorrow is another Sunday and I hope we can get a chaplain for services. Probably we will. How I’d like to sit in St. Andrews in Scottsbluff and be in a quiet, real church. I wished you could have seen the Episcopal Cathedral in Honolulu. It was certainly beautiful. For a long time after I left Oahu, the church sent me their publications and on Saipan I received two invitations to dances. I wasn’t able to attend [ha].

Dick and I haven’t been able to get together again but I’m sure we can have a few together soon. I don’t know where Duane is but probably he’ll show up one of these days. I told Dick about the newspaper article about meeting Duane and he laughed plenty and said it was a lot of beans.

It’s almost nine o’clock and I have another letter to write so I better stop. My getting home continues to look good and of course now knowing I can get out, it is hard on the patience. But I can hold out a little longer after so long. All I can think in our postwar plans is getting back to school.

Well au revoir.

Love,