I’m writing this letter in a 1935 Chevrolet traveling on a typical Texas highway, so you’ll have to excuse the hydrographical appearance.
I’ve been waiting to write this letter until I received yours in response to the one I wrote about A.S.T.P. and West Point, and I still haven’t but anyways. (It may take a little concentration figure out that last sentence.)
I understand that the first sergeant never handed in my name, and it’s now too late. (That’s the way the army is run) I’m not sure because he’s on furlough right now.
I’m hitch-hiking now from Waco to Dallas. I called up Betty K in Waco and have a date all fixed up. She sent me her picture. Not bad at all—but not too good either. But with no date in three months I should be choosey?
Time has been going very fast lately. Days are cooler, work is more interesting, and the guys I go with are swell. I really feel like an old soldier now. Got my bathing suit and fudge. Love Carl
. . .
Carl takes a slightly different tone when writing a similar letter to his brother.
. . .
Saturday AUG 15, 1943
Dear Fred,
Right now I’m between Waco and Dallas in a 1935 Chevy on a typical Texas highway. That explains the handwriting. I’m going to Dallas for my first date in three months. The party of the second part is Betty K, Helen Kaven’s [Carl’s cousin, the daughter of Elizabeth Kaven] roommate’s sister (at Wisconsin). She goes to Texas A & M and of course she’s an AEΦ—I still remember my alphabet.
I’ve been writing to her and she sends me her picture. Has possibilities. Did the family tell you about Mugsey in Muskoka? The mater, determined to strike up a romance, got her to write to me and we’ve been corresponding since. Seems really O.K. Sent me some pictures, one in a two piece bathing suit and a pin-up girl pose (flat on her back) which she did justice to.
I’m starting to get a kick out of the army. We haven’t had hardly any more hikes these last four weeks (although we’re going to finish up our basic in a week with a hundred mile one). Things have been more interesting with tactical maneuvering, night problems, and convoy work. I drove a half-track the other evening. Remember the ones that passed through Canton all the time? That’s our basic weapon, with a .75 mounted on it. Pretty nice to drive. By the way, it is now Wednesday evening, and this is the first time I’ve had to myself since the weekend.
That date I mentioned earlier turned out next to perfection. She’s one of those girls that you have to put in your application for three weeks ahead of time in school if you want a date. (Lucky for me there’s a war going on—ha.) Perfect dancer, wonderful personality, very good-looking, good sense of humor AND she has a car. Called her up and she picked me up at the U.S.O. We went to the Plantation Club—open air night club and about the best in Dallas. Good orchestra and full moon. And now I am back in the woods.
I think I’ll get called to A.S.T.P. in about two weeks now. Who knows, maybe I’ll be sent to Ohio State. Boy, am I an optimist!
So how are things going with you? Did you get your uniform yet?
Yesterday marked the end of three months of the soldier’s life (Only three more months and then I’ll just have to visit for the duration, as one of the guys said.) Only three more months and I’ll be eligible for a furlough—and then probably six more and I’ll get one. Have you been home on a weekend yet? Or are you studying like you should? Write soon.
Love Carl
. . .
August 19, 1943
Wednesday
Dear Mother,
You make me feel like a heel, writing all those letters when I haven’t been sending very much at all. But you make me feel very good too—so keep it up. Please understand that my time is very limited. It’s practically a matter of choosing between going out on weekends or writing letters. The last two weekends I’ve been going out so I haven’t been writing much. But after two in a row, both my budget and my body are tired—so I’ll stay in this coming week-end. About two out of three evenings, when we’re supposed to be on our own time, are taken up by something or other. F’rinstance Monday night they picked twenty-five of us to learn to drive half-tracks. They’re the armored trucks with wheels on the front and tracks on back, that pass through Canton all the time, with a .75 mounted on it. They’re pretty nice to drive and it looked good to see “Diebold Safe & Lock” stamped on them with “Canton, Ohio” below. By the way, are they still passing through? I mean the one with tracks, not the four wheeled ones. I am very interested in knowing if they’re still making them. They are being replaced with a new (restricted) vehicle and I’d like to know if they have stopped making half-tracks yet. You’d better ask Pop.
Tuesday evening we had range shooting for those that didn’t qualify before. Remember I told you I missed it by three points? We fired from four different positions at 200 and 300 yards. Out of a possible 210 we had to get 140 to qualify—I got 164 so I was quite happy about the situation. We used Springfield instead of Enfields, which may account for a lot of that. The Springfield, which is a 1903 model, is supposed to be the best army rifle in the world—including Garands. Seems funny, doesn’t it? But it is more accurate than the Enfield, a 1917 model. Ask L.B.L. [Leo Lavin] about it—he should still remember. And when you’re asking him questions ask him his estimation of the percentage of meat sold in the black market. I’d like to know.15
Those half-tracks have the same gear shift as the big Sugardale trucks, so I guess I got some good out of my work there. They weigh twice as much, though.
One week from tomorrow we go out to a dam near here, where we will stay in pup tents for three days, and which will end our basic. It’s a regular park there with swimming, etc. Shortly after that I imagine I’ll get shipped someplace to a S.T.A.R. unit.
Of course I won’t know for sure until about 12 hours before I go, but you can always piece together all the rumors you hear and get a fairly accurate picture. You don’t understand what the word “rumor” means until you get in the army. Write soon. Love Carl
. . .
August 24, 1943
Saturday
Dear Mom,
First of all, as for the ambiguity I was referring to West Point when I said I didn’t think the 1st sergeant had turned in my name. As I said, he is on furlough so I can’t ask him about it. The acting serg. says he thinks it was turned in.
As for A.S.T.P., I can’t get into that until basic is finished, one week from today. Then we start a 65 mile hike to our advanced training. Don’t know if we’ll be called before or after that hike. There is nothing I can accomplish by “pushing” it, except make myself obnoxious.
Now for my date with Betty. The reason I hitch hiked is because it is the fastest and also the cleanest way of getting from Waco to Dallas. I have never heard of anyone yet that took along a change of clothes on a weekend pass. I showered and washed several times at the U.S.O. so don’t worry about my being clean. My manners were exemplary. My God, woman, stop worrying! I’ll admit that I did commit one or two social faux pas in my first year at dance class. But since then I have made a few improvements. I think the last time you saw me on a date was when you drove me. Try to remember that I am not a kid anymore. That old maternal instinct wants to remember me as one, but it’s wrong. I will not be treated as a kid anymore. I am capable of handling my own affairs and forming my own opinions and judgments and I intend to do so.
Anyways, that date was a perfect one. She picked me up in her car at the U.S.O. and we went to the Plantations Club, the best night club in Dallas. An open air one, with a full moon and a good orchestra. She is a perfect dancer, wonderful conversationalist, good looking, etc. So all in all I had a perfect time.
Could you send me some caramels or some salt water taffy? Or some nuts? Just giving suggestions. How about sending me some lollypops—no