Transcription of Document FFDoc-0730.pdf

Tues. 8 Aug '44 1550 hrs.

Dear Dot,

Just 2 hours & 10 minutes to go till we're relieved from this boresome duty by the new guard. Nine of us have been standing tours in groups of 3 since 1800 hrs yesterday. Guard duty in a place like this is a wonderful institution. My first tour was from 22 to 2400 hrs. last night. And so I walked my post in a misty, drizzling rain; warmed my hands in my pockets, and laughed as I thought how secure the sleeping men were in my custody. As if there were anything in this place, with the possible exception of a few gallons of gas, to steal. Truthfully, I suppose the main purpose of the guard is fire security, since we're sleeping 40 men to a matchbox here. But all the eye wash annoys me.

Back Sunday night from a swell but relatively peaceful furlough. As ever, each one is better than the last, and each is seemingly shorter than its antecedant. Again, as ever, the old morale sinks lower than your boot-tops first day back. Nothing seems worthwhile and all you think of & want is far away. So they let you reason it all out & contemplate how long the war'll take, as you plod your weary way in inky blackness, stumbling over rocks & ruts, and glancing every so often at the radium dial on your watch - "only an hour & 20 minutes to go! Le's see - that's about 8 turns around the post - maybe 6 or even 5 if you can waste some time talking to one of the other guards on an adjacent post." You do.

Along about midnight, near the end of your tour, the rain stops & a chill wind loiters up from somewhere down the valley. A freight train rumbles by across the cornfield, seemingly trying to make as little noise as possible & doing a helluva job announcing it. In a little while the clouds start to break up, so you check the gas pump, as per special orders, & then rest yourself against a fence post as big silvery moon starts to rise above the hills a couple or three miles away across the fields. Now, at least , you've got company - that is, whenever the MAN sheds his light through a grudging break in the clouds. Gosh, what a night to have a car of your own. Then you'd fix it so there'd be you and the man in the moon and ... - but hell! that was last week. Think about something else, & maybe your morale will go up. But you can't. So you begin to remember what you did and said during that vanished furlough - and to think of what you should have done & said.

Car coming. Down on the main highway. Better saunter down there so the car lights can catch you & the occupants can see you & that damned carbine & belt & what-not, and be impressed by the light, swaggering walk of a nonchalant sentry as he makes his rounds, alert eyes & ears sensitive to any sight or sound that may herald approaching danger to those sleeping ones under his care. The car sweeps by, speed unslackened - an you're back in the dark again - just where you were before. Oh well - here comes your relief anyway. Give him the damn pea-shooter and scoot back to the guard house for a couple of winks. You're on again from 400 to 600 hours. Well, anyway, breakfast will look good.

Fri 11 Aug.

Gosh, here it is Friday already. Time really does dwindle by. During the day we have hardly a minute to ourselves here. And at night - well, you know how it is. And the worst of the whole damn thing is that I owe so many people letters. Tues nite, after guard duty, we took off, Malone & I, for a couple of beers at Budd Lake, about 7 miles down the road. We had a good time, & were in our bunks by 2330. Wed nite I was so damn fagged out I went to bed at 2030 hrs & slept right thru. Last nite, (Thurs), after a day (boring) of classes in our equipment, I took off for town for just a haircut. But then I had a few beers & on the way back to camp got sidetracked into the U.S.O. - & So back to the barracks & bed at 2240 - too late for letter writing.

Which is all a way of explaining why I didn't finish this letter to you. Today I had K.P. so I'm too shot to go anywhere.

While on furlough I met Aunt Martha at Auntie's. She gave both Joe & me 5 rocks! And informed me that she had a summer home (the family's I mean) at Clinton "near" here. (I discovered its 25 miles "near"). So I said that if she were ever there, let me know & I'd take a ride up (on the thumb). Well, the gist of it all is that all week I've been dying to get home to the family & you-know-who (particularly after the furlough), and then tonite I get a Spec. Deliv. Air Mail from Martha, saying she'll be at Clinton this weekend. Oi! & she expects to see me.

Hell, I'll go - I've even looked forward to going. But how I wanted this weekend at home so much it hurts - figgered it'd sorta taper off that dead, demoralized feeling of the after-furlough. But one never knows, do one? - So I guess I'll run down to Clinton tomorrow night for the weekend (barring restrictions & duties). At least I'll be sure of a few drinks there. I'll take along my swim suit & try to make it a very enjoyable weekend. So much for that.

You're anxious to know about Joe. Gosh, - there's hardly anything to say. Everyone - including himself - says he's improved wonderfully since spending time at St. Pete. Of course, not having seen him before, I don't know. But perhaps you'll be able to get my reaction -

"Lights Out!"! (at 2100)

Sat - 20 minute break.

when I say that Joe never seemed to have changed basically at all - was the same as I remembered him before he went into the Army. I admit he is slightly more boisterous or noisy at times, but I suppose you could say, had there been no war, he would have developed along those lines anyway. On furlough Joe was always up early - around 0830 - but only once or twice did I notice that he didn't care to eat too much. Every other time he seemed to consume his normal share.

He arrived early Sun. Peg & I returned from Rye Sun. nite, so Kezars, Shields & Katz & Salerno had ¼ keg of beer. Monday afternoon Joe & I went to Waterbury and stayed thru a swell time till Wed. Wed. P.M. we got to Aunties, & stayed there till about 6:20 PM, when Martha, Joe & I went to Gebe's to have dinner with Al & Helen. So Joe & I got home that night near midnight. Thursday Joe went to a N.Y. show, & I picked up Peggy & we took in a Bklyn movie. Then the 2 of us went home & chowed. After supper Troys came up to visit & Joe came in from N.Y. While he was eating Sal Marascuillo walked in, big as life, from 33 mos in South & Latin America. He certainly looks good. About 9:30 the family & Peg & Gladys went over to Tommy's to see Ma. We had a nice time. Friday Mary Salerno came to stay till Sunday, & Fri nite Ron & Vi treated Joe, me & Peg to a movie & dinner in N.Y.

Sat. P.M. Joe, Mary, Peg & I had a helluva good time at Coney Island. (That Mary is one swell person)

Sooo, Sunday afternoon Joe saw me off at the ferry & then went to G.C. Sta to meet Peg. He was to return from Rye on Tues.

And that was the way our furloughs went - all in all - very good indeed.

Monday 14 Aug.

Well, here it is almost a week since I started this letter - & it still isn't finished.

Over the weekend I was down to see Martha & her relatives in Clinton & had a rather good time. But next week I hope to go home.

They nailed me for guard duty again. Only 3 hrs to go till I'm thru, though. Damn _ all I do is lie around in my free time, when I should be writing letters. But it's so damn hot here that you don't want to eat and the goddam flies are irritating to the point of driving you mad.

Peg writes that Joe appeared to have had a good time at Rye last week, & that he intends to become a regular customer at their place after the war. Sounds good.

Dot, the list of letters I owe people gives me nightmares, so I'll close & see what I can do about getting some uninterrupted sleep tonight!

Be good.

Love and prayers,

Frank