Rations Archives - Moss Letters

4 June 1945

Dear Folks:

I’m sitting in a little office tent feeling miserable as the water continually pours down and makes the ground a spongy mass of wet clay. It’s too wet to work and while I’m loafing around perhaps I can answer some of the letters I got today. Today was a good day to get mail, when practically the only bright spot in the day, was a letter. I had one from Mom, one from Dad and one from Dick. Mom’s was very recent and Dad’s was a little older. Maybe if I can go through them again for the nth time, I can find something to write about.

I know how good it must have been to see Phil and I’ll bet he looked very good. Probably he is married now, and you gave him the present from me that I mentioned. I think your attitude is the best one – about letting him get married. Personally I like the idea fine.

I’m glad Dick wrote you such a nice letter. He’s a swell guy and really appreciates things more than appears on the surface. Was glad to hear from him today and I’m expecting that we can soon get together under peaceful circumstances.

But opposite the bad news and miserable weather is the good news that the troops are going great guns on Okinawa. I think it’s about over and one more campaign gone by. I hope I have seen my last one.

I remember Everly Gibbons alright and the last I heard of him, he was a captain in the army. I always did suspect him of being a little abnormal but from the story in your letter, he must have went whole hog.

I remember Dad’s letter about the Youmans-Harris fund and I can imagine the waves of gossip it must have created. My opinion of Mrs. Youmans is getting worse every day – perhaps their money they used to have, detracted from what she was really made of.

Maybe it was a good thing Dad cautioned about just walking in because I had actually thought of doing such a thing, although I doubt if I could keep the news myself if it ever came.

My chief evening diversion is getting to be working crossword puzzles. The medical sergeant got a book from his wife, so me and a Chinese may borrow it and scratch our heads while they play cards. We think we’re getting pretty sharp at it but we ran into a tough one last night. The aid station has lights so we go there.

I’m not sure but I think we’re going to cook up some of our odds and ends of rations tonight. I think we have a can of bacon, some peaches, a little grape juice, and perhaps get a little bread from the kitchen. Quite a treat.

Well, I think I’ll write to Dick before supper then grab a shower and besides I’m out of something to write about, so I’ll call this good.

Love,

26 April 1945

Dear Dad:

It seemed such a treat to get your letter today that I thought I would address this one to you, even though you know it is for you both. Well a few minutes ago I finished typing the daily newssheet and have my lead arranged ready for the evening. Also for tonight we had a can of bacon leftover from our rations and I see my buddy has the stove out so we’ll probably have quite a treat tonight. That bacon in cans is very good stuff. This guy I bunk with I’ve known for a long time, and we have become close friends, although at times we use words on each other. He is from Kansas where his father has a large wheat and cattle ranch. He is very likeable and always cheerful, as a matter of fact he keeps my spirits up. He is married and I think I know about everything about his wife. His name is Cliff Blount just in case sometimes you may want to know.

On the island here there’s quite a number of horses and lately it has become the fad to get one of your own and ride him after supper. The battery looks more like a calvary outfit and often we have a short rodeo for a laugh. I did a little riding but I don’t go for it like some of these guys.

Your letter today was interesting and full of good comment. You are doing a good job and I know our absence has made both of us wiser and more appreciative although it worked more on me. I was glad you got my letter about being in Okinawa but know it will make you more anxious. It won’t last too long and then I’m sure we will have it easy for a while including shows and a little beer. Talking about horses and everything you probably can’t reconcile it with combat but there is the other side alright. About every evening the Japs start shelling and a shelling is nerve wracking but aside from the time one landed about 35 yards away, they haven’t been too close. Several men were only five or ten feet from the shell and came out unscratched so you can see the good of a foxhole. It doesn’t take you long to dig in. Haven’t seen Dick for a few days but hope he can stop by soon. He told me Diz Carroll had already had enough war. The reason the bonds sometimes arrive late is because they are sent only when we are paid and occasionally we can’t be paid every month.

I know you would like to see your business continued and especially to have one of us take. I know what it means to you regardless of what you say in your letters. I think we will keep it going and if Minatare can weather any decline after the war, I agree with you that it has many possibilities.

I think I wrote about Ernie Pyle’s death and it was a blow to everyone. Just when he was about to tell homefolks about the Pacific war. I’m sure the men in Europe will find the war here much different. No prisoners here, it’s dig them out and exterminate like cockroaches. I don’t mind if Mom puts my letter in the paper that I first wrote but I don’t think it is much of a letter. I was really not in a literary mood and could have made it much better.

Well it’s getting pretty dark and we are to do the bacon frying before dark so I better ring off for another time.

Love,

7 April 1945

Dear Folks:

For the first time in the past several days I have some unused time on my hands and also the censor has permitted us to write about what has been happening to me, so there is two good reasons to write. I would like to make this a good long account so you could picture better just what this place is like, but I don’t feel like writing very much, so later perhaps I can explain things more fully (later). In the first place I’m on Okinawa in the Ryukus. Was expecting the same old things as in other Pacific Islands, that is coconut trees, cane fields, and hot sweating days. I was surprised to find it much different. The best way I can think to describe to you what the island is like is by comparing it to the City Park in Denver. From a rise or a hill the landscape looks like broad rolling lawns with green hedges patch working the scenery. Each family has about two acres for a farm and every inch of that two acres is carefully planted in neat little patches no bigger than your own garden. A little plot here has barley, while others have carrots, cabbages, onions, and some cane. Of course we’ve made good use of the fresh vegetables and it is no doubt at all to cook up an evening stew of cabbage, carrots, onions, potatoes, and lettuce. Everything is in miniature, and all in all the landscape is some of the best I have ever seen. Something else uncommon to anything else I’ve seen, is the tombs used by those people who believe in ancestor worship. The tombs are located on hillsides with a vault opening to the inside and with a small courtyard in the front. They are scattered all over, located near the farm of each family. They remind me of pictures I’ve seen of Forest Lawn Cemetery in Los Angeles.

And finally after quite a long time some cool weather, at least it seems very cool to us. I guess it seldom gets less than fifty at nights but it takes all I have to keep warm, and the days are hot, the hot humid tropical kind. But it’s invigorating and maybe it accounts for my feeling some better and eating. Well there is a brief description, but as time goes on, I’ll add more to it.

We came here from Leyte in the Philippines and the boat ride was rough, but plenty. In the past I couldn’t mention Leyte, only the Philippines. While on Leyte I visited Dulag, Tarragona, Albuera, Ormoc and Baybay among others. Perhaps you will remember Ormoc as the place where the Japs re-enforced. I guess that is enough about events.

I’m fine myself and feeling perfectly well, and I won’t take any chances I don’t have to, because having come this far I think perhaps the time won’t be too far off when I can see you. Very fortunately and thru the good judgment of our CO I have a cot, and it makes a world of difference. Well we’re cooking our own rations again, and it’s getting about time to warm up the stove. I see the cook has brought in and cleaned some carrots and has a big hunk of garlic.

I’ll write again soon and as often as possible.

Love,

23 March 1945

Dear Folks:

I’m afraid this won’t be much of a letter but any word is good I know. Just received the news of Phil’s induction into the Navy and I feel wonderful about [it]. That will be much better than the Army. He will always know where his bunk is and will escape the uncomforts of foxholes and C rations. He will be alright.

So very little has happened I’m very short on news so this will about be it. Am feeling good again but always have you on my mind and wonder when I can see you again.

Love,

10 January 1945

[The second of two letters written to his parents, just hours apart]

Dear Folks:

I just wrote you a letter only a few hours ago but after writing it I thought it wasn’t a very good one and I know you want to know all I can tell you. It’s a little after suppertime now and I feel pretty decent. I think by tomorrow I will feel almost up to par again, and I hope I never get another attack like that again. I’m so glad you liked the watch and I hope it was just what you wanted – Dad wrote me about it so I knew you were getting it. I can imagine Dad hardly being able to wait until Christmas. I’m darned glad to hear Phil is going to the Merchant Marines. I know he seems very young to you to be put into the world, but even though he will run into a lot of hard talking rough minded men, it won’t hurt him if he doesn’t want it to. I’m sure he will be better off there than in the Army. On a boat he always knows where he’s going to sleep, gets good food, and can always keep clean, while here you’re often moving, sleeping in the dirt and eating boxed rations. I’m glad all over, that he will (should be ‘went’?) where he did. I know you’re hearing all the news about what’s going on in the Philippines and where and what I’m doing but I can’t tell you much about that. Perhaps at some later date they will let us put out more information. About a week ago I sent you forty dollars and it will come in the form of a treasury check, probably you have received it by this time. I will probably send more next month. Also this morning I had three letters from Dad including one V-mail and one from Nancy, and to me they mean everything – other letters don’t spell much. Also there was three letters from Mom and all of them were recent. I understand our mail is routed direct from Frisco avoiding the stop at Hawaii. The mail situation has been pretty good although nothing but first class has arrived in many months. I haven’t received a Reader’s Digest in five months or a Free Press since last August, and aside from the two packages, no other boxes have arrived. But we’re expecting an avalanche one of these days. There must be tons of it somewhere.

I have thought of a couple of things that would come in handy now. One is either a rubberized bag to hold toilet articles or else a small zipper packet to hold the same thing. I think a flat folding one would be the best, pretty compact but one that will hold the standard size articles. And a good sturdy one that water and banging around won’t hurt too much, and put about three combs in it. And the other is a waterproof cigarette holder, to keep cigarettes dry and unsmashed, and a cigarette lighter with plenty of flints, I know they are hard to get and probably you can’t find them.

I think this is all I have in mind now, and twilight is starting to take over, so can’t write much longer anyhow, so goodnight once again.

Love,

29 December 1944

Dear Folks:

It’s a very hot and sultry afternoon – almost too hot to work so I’ll write you a short letter. The past three days mail has been coming in by the armload and each day I’ve received no less than eight, and each one is a great morale booster. You are certainly doing a great job of writing. And the clippings always add to them. I can’t understand either why Dick hasn’t received mail but sometimes events will delay it. I’m going to write him today. No more boxes have arrived but they’ll be along. I wish you could see this place so you could appreciate more just how tough it is to clean out the Japs. And when it rains it’s really miserable. The Filipinos stream along the roads getting out of the way and packing what they can (carry) with them. They are a pretty sorry looking lot but I guess civil affairs will soon give some relief. Often at our mess lines they will (collect) garbage in old cases.

Recently I was in an operation on one of the Philippine Islands that you are reading about and I was glad when it was over. I was on an unloading detail. Saw enough Jap planes to last for a long time.

I’m afraid you are worrying considerably about me – more than you should. I’m afraid it will make you nervous and upset. I wish for your sake I could see you and make you feel better. I’m sure I’m quite the same and every bit as healthy and I’m hoping in 1945 I can prove it to you.

No, I can’t remember Dr. Fargubar, he moved out before I knew him very long. I understand he quit doctoring.

Conditions here are not bad – the rations are okeh and I have a cot to sleep on. And with no lights I get plenty of sleep.

Had Christmas cards from Edna, Emicks, Staffords, Peters and some others.

I’ll write again soon and don’t worry unduly.

Love,

20 December 1944

Dear Folks:

I suppose you have been wondering what has happed to me since you haven’t had any letters for sometime. Things have happened that kept me from writing and which I can’t explain very fully. But I had some excitement and felt a little uncomfortable at times. But anyway I’m alright. Maybe I can get back to writing you more regularly now. Had six letters from you yesterday including the pictures of the house and the Waids. They were so damn good to get. And the letter was read a dozen times. I have received only two packages so far but things seem to be arriving every day. They will be here soon. The weather has turned good lately and it’s a relief from the rain. The Filipino population is around us everywhere and they are quite the business people. They wash clothes for a peso or two and are always bargaining for cigarettes and rations. Lately our movie has been working and of course they stand around and chatter and giggle. They especially titter during love scenes and have their own interpretations of what’s going on. Most of them can talk enough English to understand what you are trying to say. They live in small grass huts with chickens sharing the quarters. And each family has a hollowed out log for a boat. Each afternoon I usually manage a cooling swim in the warm ocean.

Well I know this isn’t adequate but perhaps I can write more often now. I’m fine and feeling swell. Starting to turn yellow from malaria tablets but it’ll wear off. I’ve thought about you often and how wonderful are the ways of peace. See you in ’45 I hope – I bet.

Love,

9 December 1944

Dear Folks:

Instead of getting closer to home as I would like to, I’m going farther away. I know you have probably been anxious since you haven’t heard from me for sometime and I’ve been equally as anxious to write you and let you know everything is alright with me. Now I’m in the Philippines. Pretty hot here in more ways than one. But the most annoying aspect is the rain – it seems to rain all the time and everything is always damp. However I’m now living in a pyramidal tent which is much better than a pup tent. There are native Filipinos all around the area. A few of them have stories about guerilla fighting and how the Japs treated them. And they are always bargaining for something–rations, clothes, matches, etc. The people seem very small and their grass huts are built in proportion to their size. But I’m not much in the mood to write a newsy letter – the main thing is to let you know that I’m fine and the prospects are pretty good. Our first night here we got a Fourth of July welcoming and much of it was spent in a foxhole. Jumping in a foxhole together with the rain isn’t enjoyable, but I can’t complain when I think of the infantry fellows who are up there taking it without even the small conveniences we have. The trip here had me worried a couple of times when the air raid sounded, but we got in without an attack. If you are reading about this place you know what the Japs are doing to hold it and its no quarter fight on both sides. The best thing that happened when we first got here was mail. It was waiting – first class and a package from you – you don’t know how comforting they were. The package had chicken in it and it was a good supplement to the K rations – and the pretzels went good with some beer we managed to ship over in an office box. And then I had a letter from Dad and Mom and a card from Reader’s Digest about the subscription. Would you write them and advise them of my new APO?

WelI thought I’d write this V-mail first for it might get to you a little sooner, but I’ll write again soon and give you more dope. The siren might sound again at any time and then I’ll have to put the light out and won’t be able to finish. So adios for this time.

Love,

20 August 1944

Dear Folks:

I’ll try my patience tonight and see if I can write a letter in long hand for a change. Maybe you can’t read it around the end but here goes. This is Saturday night again but it just as well be any night I guess. Maybe I can make it to church in the morning if nothing unforeseen comes up. Well I had a little excitement during my tour yesterday. While driving along in a jeep at the southern end of the island, we spotted a Jap running in the bushes and trying to dodge around a burned up truck. We let go a few rounds at him and soon he came out hands up. We stripped him down to his bare then took him to intelligence. He was scared to death and thought for sure we were going to kill him in short order. He was injured pretty badly and flies were all around him. Later we gave him a can of rations and he dug into them as fast as he could. Every time we gave him a cigarette or did anything for him he would bow his head very reverently two or three times.

I can’t think of much to write about. We are getting somewhat stabilized here now and the garrison routines are coming back. We have two volleyball courts constructed and several teams have been organized in the battery for a playoff. My game isn’t so hot but I get in once in a while.

Dan Gettman brought in a slug of Star Heralds a few days ago and we talked about your visit with his mother. He’s a typical valley Russian but a pretty good egg.

Hope I can see Dick in the next few days and swap mail with him. He probably has quite a few.

I wished I could think of something more to write but can’t seem to tonight. So I’ll stop this and get ready for those “cool clean sheets” and that “late Sunday morning sleep”. (Yes, I’m kiddin’).

Love,

7 August 1944

Dear Folks:

In a few minutes I’m going over the hill and down the road to the show but first I better scratch you out a short epistle. The last time I wrote you I was on Saipan where I was with Dick and where I could see Jack, but now I’m three miles across the channel on Tinian. Tinian is a green, oblong island with a plateau down the middle. It reminds me much of Maui. The fields are well laid out, and abounding with sugar cane, sweet potatoes and other small crops. Looking at the valley from Lake Minatare is much like the scene from here. Most of the farm homes I have seen look as though the Jap farmers must have been pretty well off. More presentable than those on Saipan. Tinian towns must have been picturesque little settlements when it was whole, but now it looks like Garapan. I never imagined I would see such destruction as I had seen in newsreels, etc., but that’s all I have seen for the last two months. Every building and shed has been hit, and even small houses setting hidden in cane fields have been demolished. On most of the Jap homes, the house is of wood with a tin roof, while the barn is usually reinforced concrete about eight inches thick, and a large cistern to collect rain water. Water by the way is a pretty important matter here and probably it contributed no little in whipping the Japs. Probably every Jap farmer was forced to build a concrete barn and maintain some stock for the army. On the southern part of the island snipers and civilians are being collected, although the island has been secured for some time. From the wreckage of houses we have taken what was left to make ourselves some shelter against the rain, and I wished you could see some of the Rube Goldberg contraptions that have been arranged. The architectural masterpieces that are showers are something to see. It seems that every piece of wreckage can be put to use in some way. It has been raining a lot lately and the mud is bad to slip around in. I’m getting behind on dirty clothes and tomorrow I think I’ll be forced to do some laundry. I wished you could see us whip up our supper. We have a small stove and we’re sure to make some man a good wife. The rations get a little tiresome but soon we’ll have a kitchen and back to good rations.

Well Mom and Dad I’m still very well. Dengue fever has hit some but I’ve been okeh so far. Of course the only really bad element to it all is the distance from home. I haven’t seen Dick for a week or two and probably won’t get to see him for some time although you can never tell. Probably I may not see Jack again either. Dusk is pulling the shades down so I better grab my mosquito drop and flashlight and get along to the show. Last night we sat in the rain and saw a show that was bad for the dogfaces titled ‘Love Can’t Be Rationed’. About the scarcity of men in the states and the feminine wolves. What a situation. Well adios this time.

Love,