The 103rd
Pvt. Roy N. Van Arsdall 15306087
Hq. Co., 3rd Bn., 411 Inf.
Camp Howze, Texas
APO-170
May - September 1944


May 4, 1944
Dear Dad,
Well, this outfit just about puts the finishing touch on things. We are really getting a royal one.
To start with, they don’t in the least appreciate the boys from the ASTP and air corps.
The ASTP boys get three weeks training, a furlough and then right straight out.
I’m in headquarters company, for the time being in communications, but I doubt if I can even stay here. They need men in line companies pretty bad, and that’s what I was. Only difference here I lug a rifle plus radio equipment and string 25 or 30 miles of wire.
This division was on its maneuvers last fall with the 102nd. They wont go on any more. All privates and Pfc.’s are taking their overseas physical now.
Right now the boys are working on battalion and division problems. They went out this afternoon for 3 days and I nearly had to go in my low-cuts and class A’s. I didn’t even have a blanket. They’re fitted with steel helmets, camouflage suits, and all the works. They’re using live amo, too. You can hear the artillery crash around here all day. They have the 37 on up to the 155 rifles.
If I could get anything at all it wouldn’t be so bad, but they have over their quota for everything except buck private riflemen. And that’s not a very good place when you get it all figured out. If they could be convinced in any way there at the board that I was needed on the farm, then I’d just as soon stay there and work on the farm. This day and night stuff in the mud isn’t getting anyone anywhere and doing a very small bit of good, too. I guess I’m just day dreaming, though, because its pretty tough to get deferred out of here. But no harm in thinking about it.
I’ll get a furlough soon. The only reason is that all Pfc. and Pvt.’s furloughs are canceled in this outfit after this next month. They’re gonna be generous and give up a whole seven days, too.
Mother sent me $25.00, but I didn’t have any money then and I still haven’t been paid. When I do I’ll get around $90.00 so I can send it back, but now I need about $20 more. I have $19, but my ticket home costs $24.63, and I want to be safe as I don’t know just when I’ll get off.
Money order would be best and I guess an airmail would get it back OK.
This insignia is a green cactus on a yellow and blue background.
Well, I’ll probably be home before too long so write and let me know how things are at home. And don’t pay too much attention to my bitching because that’s a GI’s only privilege. But the way they have done us!!!
Roy
May 4, 1944
Dear Mother,
The guys spent the last two days and nights out and go out again tonight. Didn’t have to go yesterday, but will tonight.
Next week there’s a five day problem that’s 95 miles out. Guess will ride back.
Right now I’m in communications, but I probably can’t stay because its about double strength. Anyhow we wade through just like a line man except plus wire, etc.
I know I’ll get a furlough sometime soon. Only seven days, but it’s a little.
I’d still like to convince somebody that Dad’s back was sore or the hogs needed feeding or something would rot and lose the war if I didn’t get it in or some darn thing to get out if nothing else for the summer work.
I was satisfied when I was doing the other, but there’s certainly no go now.
Well, I can dream, can’t I? Anyhow, will be home before long. My darn laundry hasn’t caught up yet. May have to come naked.
Love,
Roy
May 22, 1944
Dear Dad,
Got here just about on schedule. Stayed in town till about 4:00. It spent the whole time pouring down rain. The whole place is a lob-lolly. Just over an inch of water right under my bunk.
Some more new guys came in while I was gone. Worse crowded than ever now. And they all have the ratings, which makes things more impossible than ever.
Do what ever you can. No harm trying. If I was gonna try anything I wouldn’t wait very long. West Point would be good if I could get in.
My C.O.----Lt. Chester K. Hoffman
Hq. Co., 3 Bn., 411 Inf
Bat. C.O.--Lt. Col. W.E. Muller
3 Bn., 411 Inf.
Reg. C.O.--Col. Donovan P. Yeuell
411 Inf.
These are the right names and I know could be reached by these addresses complete with camp name of course.
Tell Mother everything is OK, and will write to her soon.
My grades and military records may be of value. UK grades were good.
Roy
May 24, 1944
Dear Mother,
This is the second day of our three weeks refresher course. They’re throwing a whole 17 weeks training at us in that time.
It’s hot as all get out now. Yesterday it rained most of the time.
This really takes it out of you. At Croft we got a smoke (5 min) break about every hour. This afternoon we didn’t get a single break. I guess they just want us so we can take anything and wont care about anything.
Things are still pretty slow on the other side, aren’t they? Maybe they’ll pick up soon, though. Hope so anyway.

Smile!! You’re in the infantry now!
I’d sure love to go to West Point. Sometimes with the right people behind you, things like that can be done. I’d probably wind up not being able to pass the physical or mental now if I did get appointed.
Much rather spend at least the summer working on the farm, but I’d also like to be a millionaire.
Be good and let me know how everything comes out. Gonna have to leave ring and watch in for awhile.
Love,
Roy
May 26, 1944
Dear Mother,
Ha, just another griping letter, cause don’t know anyone well enough here yet. Rained all day and is still at it. We go as usual. There’s nothing here to write about except things that aren’t good.
I do want to know if there’s a chance of anything being done at home. Anything would be worthwhile. West Point would be very nice if I could make it. Still might be a bare possibility of getting out for a summer’s harvest, but I doubt it. If there’s anything Dad wants me to do here, let me know.
Boy, when these guys do go over they’re really gonna be mad at the jerks for causing all of this.
Of all the branches of service I would like I have to be in this outfit. But now they’re sending guys from every branch of service in here. Most of them have rank and a lot of it. Lots of them will have to be busted, so of course there’s no chance for raise, anyhow. Stripes in here only mean more trouble.
We’re beginning to think something went wrong with the invasion.
Write often as you can and let me know how things are going. I guess you got those officers names so you could reach them if need be.
Oh yes, had 19 letters from Margie, gotten three since, seven from Betty and nearly fifteen others.
Love,
Roy
May 26, 1944
Dear Mother,
Just something on the government! Can’t get anything else but free mail, ha!! Haven’t seen this river yet, but we’ll probably be crossing it soon. Be good.
Love,
Roy

Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!
May 27, 1944
Dear Mother,
Pay no attention to picture on card. Just had it. Rained all day again and still at it. Manage to have dry stuff for next day, though. Still kicking around, too.
Love,
Roy
May 29, 1944
Dear Mother,
This ever-lasting rain is still at it. I guess when it does quit, it’ll be all at once, and we’ll start having dust storms.
Was lucky we got off today. We have guard duty, CQ, latrine orderly, KP, and a dozen other things that we can get.
Went in to town and saw a show and got a good meal. That’s about all there is in this town. Little bigger than Danville for all the GI’s here.
Margie still writing every day. Got two from her Saturday.
Nothing much to say now and have to write to some others.
Oh yes, shared the chocolate with a boy from overseas. He’d helped take the Marshall’s. He was happy, but he didn’t look very good. A 57 mm shell had gotten one arm and an eye and messed his face up. Said his legs got it, but they’re both OK. He had the steel they’d taken from his eye. Cookies just out yesterday.
Met a guy who worked for Roger Stevens for a couple years. Forget name.
Love,
Roy
May 31, 1944
Dear Mother,
Just a minute to spare. Hot this morning, but pouring down now. Another nice wet afternoon. Not bad when you can come back to a dry bed, though.
If you can send it, I’d like to see my class book. Tom’s name is T.A. Wright. He’s now in Wisconsin in the artillery.
Our tanks came in today. You can hear them rumble for miles. Now we’ll have work following them up. The boys do an awful lot of work following a rolling barrage, too. We always have artillery on our problems. I haven’t been in yet, but will be soon as this course is done.
The idea seems to be here that the reason the invasion hasn’t come is that the bombs didn’t hit much. Sorta like, “Mike, it’s a bit hot here. Let’s drop ‘em and beat it.” I wonder. Bound to have hurt a lot, though.
I hear from all the gals. Margie especially.
Don’t bother about reading material. Just have time to write letters.
Food is always fair while we’re in garrison. Last night wasn’t much good, but we went to the PX. One little boiled spud, one slice fried balogne, one spoon of cabbage ala motor oil, and water, but PX is always here. That was about the worst one we’ve had, though.
Love,
Roy
June 1, 1944
Dear Mother,
Got a roll of papers and two letters from you today. Oh yes, and Margie got in two today. It’s usually only one, but she missed Sunday.
Besides too big a supper tonight, I ate a quart of ice cream, a pint of chocolate milk, about five bottles of pop, and some candy. Not doing bad, huh?
Things are shaping up like we might go over as a division. Hope so, because I’d rather go all together than just as a replacement.
I think now all the special units are about attached. The tank battalion just got in. Boy, but they’re huge brutes.
There’s a boy right beside me from Bowling Green. He’d been in the AA in Los Angeles.
Don’t worry about me and don’t pester anyone to do anything. Not much to do but want the war to end anyhow. Just remember whatever happens to me is happening to lots more guys just like me. There’s a whole big bunch of us all alike in here.
Love,
Roy
June 2, 1944
Dear Mother,
Had a fairly easy day today, compared.
No one ever thought the 103rd would ever get around to going over as a division. Now it seems almost a sure thing. Everything points to getting ready. I hope I can stay in it, and I probably will. Rather go over in a unit than as a replacement.
We have the “D” series of maneuvers coming up in a month or so. Of course no one knows, but the general idea is that we wouldn’t be ready before September. But you know how rumors are.
Tomorrow will be hard. Have a nine mile hike in two hours. Those on the back of the platoon (me and others) will have to nearly run all the way. Packs and rifles don’t help either. Lot of other junk along.
Love, Roy
June 4, 1944
Dear Mother,
It’s now 6 PM and we just got off duty. I’m waiting now for a guy to clean up and we’re gonna try to go to Denton. Don’t know what’s there, though.
Pay no attention to this writing. I’ve got the darn thing here in my lap.
Yesterday the guys went out and dug in. Took them all night. This morning they attacked over 5,000 yards.
In our company one sergeant got a little shrapnel. Not very bad, though. But the company runner went to sleep in the middle of the road. A prime mover ran over him. Not much left.
Got a letter from Jack. Says when he leaves now he probably wont be back till the war is over.
Have one more week of this basic. Then we’ll have about three months of training. By the time that’s over we’ll be ready and willing to go about anywhere.
Love,
Roy
NOTE: On June 13 my Lt. wrote to County Agent Parks, who obviously had asked that I be released for summer work on the farm, and quoted the regs which said such was not possible.
June 7, 1944
Dear Mother,
Well, looks like that day is here. Woke up this morning to the tune of invasion. Kinda got ‘em worried as to why the Germans didn’t fight. There’s bound to be a counter attack.
I was attacking about the same time as they were over there. Had a full day and then had to go over the infiltration course from 6 to 9 PM. We came back for the night course.
You go out about 100 yards and lay down. There are six heavy machine guns up in front. They fire tracers right over your head about 2 feet. The ground is covered with rough rocks, and plenty of barbed wire.
They set off dynamite all along. I was in about 5 feet of one charge when it went. And they use whole sticks. No harm, just plastered me with mud and a big chunk fell on me. Another came pretty close.
Boy, it’s one h---of a racket with 6 guns and dynamite all at once. They weave the guns back and forth and those tracers are really vivid. You really keep down, too.
When the dynamite goes you almost lift off the ground. You should see some guy when he really gets plastered.
Tomorrow and next day we go on the range and our basic will be almost finished.
The cookies were swell. I just got them last night. Of course I like the oatmeal best, but I know the others are easiest to make.
Right now they have about twice as many men as they have rations for. Be better when the POR boys leave (today). PX is always there, though.
I get paid the 10th. Trying to knock me out of a months pay. Have on my service record that I got paid May 3 at J.B.. I was here then. Hope it comes out.
Will send class book back soon. The two guys carrying bags in snow are Dave Storm and I taking laundry over. I’m in front.
Love,
Roy
June 9, 1944
Dear Mother,
Got Dad’s letter and roll of papers. I doubt if anything will ever be done.
Think I told you about running the day infiltration course. After that we ran the night. Boy, what those tracers don’t do. I got pretty close (3 yds.) to a couple sticks of dynamite, but only got well covered up.
Spent the next two days out with about 6 hours sleep for both and had peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. I’m a tired baby--now to bed. Sticky hot, too.
Love,
Roy
June 11, 1944
Dear Mother,
Here in the Denton USO. Spent the night in a pretty old home for $1.00. folks probably renting just for soldiers. Radio in every room.
Finished basic and am assigned to the intelligence section. (Soldier, the enemy’s out there! Go find him!!)
For two weeks now I go to motor school to get a drivers license.
Hot all night here. Will only be able to send $50.00 this time. Got paid yesterday.
Love,
Roy
June 13, 1944
Dear Mother,
Had a good time in Denton.
May not get to send all of even the $50.00 this time, but will get it home piece meal. Just found out that my bond allotment hadn’t been deducted for about four months. So guess wont get anything next time. Have plenty now, though.
First day in motor school today. Learning to fly a jeep.
Everything OK. Got snapshots.
Love,
Roy

You better believe it!
June 15, 1944
Dear Mother,
Got the big roll of papers today and get a letter most every day.
Am listening to the news while writing. Doesn’t sound too bad, but will take a lot of work yet.
Still going to motor school, but will probably finish tomorrow. That will give me a license for everything up to 2 1/2 tons. All our vehicles are either 4 or 6 wheel drive. much more powerful than an ordinary truck.
This will not make me a driver, only an available driver as everyone in my section must drive.
We go out on an attack problem the last two days this week. Tanks and all. Everything will fire live amo except rifles.
A kid shot his best buddy the other day. An officer had a 45 guarding the payroll. He gave it to this boy to return to the owner and failed to unload it. The boy was asleep. The other boy punched him and said, “Wake up, here’s your gun,” and snapped the trigger shooting him right through the temple. Boy up for man slaughter and officer for neglect.
Took my POR physical today and filled out some papers so time will probably be less than expected. Oh well, same difference.
If you ever can, see “Going My Way”.
Love,
Roy
June 18, 1944
Dear Mother,
Well, here I am back in the Denton USO. Very lucky in missing a week-end detail again.
Friday and today we were out on an attack problem. The whole division and its support.
We left early Friday morning and went out about 30 miles. The convoy was huge and had everything in it. Pretty rough for a strafing plane now. Both 30 and 50 cal. are mounted on the jeeps and trucks.
Well, all day we kept moving up (on foot). We went through some terrible country. We’d get bridges and five ton trucks across places that looked impossible.
You’d be amazed at places these vehicles can go. They are all either four or six-wheel drive.
We hit the main lines about dark. The enemy was a heavily armed Regiment--with blanks of course.
During the night they captured 15 of our patrols and a few trucks. Somewhere in the rounds we lost our bed rolls (one blanket), but it wasn’t cold.
I was working in the radio section. Rolled up in my raincoat about 12:00 and got some sleep.
Was almost afraid to go to sleep because the tanks and other vehicles just went any place, and with no lights. I dug me a hole, as did everyone, so those darn things wouldn’t get too close.
“H” hour was 5:30. Well, about 4:00 I was rudely awakened. It was just the artillery getting the range and they only fired a few shots, but no more sleep.
Those shells sound like freight trains over head. You hear the gun about the same time as the shell. Combine a blow-torch, a stick swishing through the water, and tire treads humming on the road, and make it real loud; then you have a shell overhead.
I counted as many as 26 seconds after the shell went over before it landed. Boy, they had the attack right on the button--no blanks. Then enemy pulled out during the night.
I sat and looked at my watch until the very minute. I’ve never heard anything like what broke loose. All the artillery in back cut loose and you couldn’t even set still on the ground. The mortars and AT guns cut loose further up, and the machine guns. Boy, what a din they made. Then the Grant and Sherman tanks went in firing their big guns. The boys went right in with them. Concrete and other dummy fortifications just weren’t there any more. Didn’t take long for it all to be over.
Started back about 3 PM. A very long dusty hot convoy.
You should see those big tanks. Enormous, and they seemed to be everywhere.
I’ve been eating a bit since I got back, too. My payroll is still messed up. Just be patient till things get straightened out.
Love,
Roy
June 18, 1944
Hello Dad,
This is my pal, Don Martin, and I during the barrage preparatory to the attack. MARTIN CARTOON ON BACK!!

Don Martin reveals our attack mode
We hit it easy. Out of the two days, all the work we did was dig in and sleep the whole time.
I think the expression on the guys face says the shells wont let him sleep. but we got used to them. He drew it just now. Tells stories in his letters with these. He was a naval flier.
Roy
June 26, 1944
Dear Mother,
You don’t have to tell me how hot it is. It’s after ten now and I’m in the day room with no shirt on. The sweat is just pouring off.
We have wind, but it’s hot and very full of dust. This vast expanse with no trees at all doesn’t help either.
We spent the day out in the field setting up a camp and having a full field inspection. Hot but we had some fun.
We have a very dumb guy in our company. He’ll probably get out on a Section 8. A guy sent him after the “canon report”. He went every where after it and each guy would send him else where. They finally told him it was lost and had him going around taking a collection to buy a new one before the CO found out.
Something about the intelligence section. They are usually patrols. Most of their work is done a night. Everything, even leggings and helmets, is left behind. They sneak through enemy lines for information. We take trench knives. Stealth, silence, and speed are essential. We are just plain fighting men after our work is over. Oh, it’s not bad. No worse than anything else.
Went to Lake Dallas Friday at noon as KP for the picnic. The others (20 companies) came down Saturday. Got a guy to take my place 6 PM Saturday and went into Denton on pass.
Got time off Friday afternoon to swim and ride. Lot of big speed boats and could they go.
Right now I’m fixing to go on guard.
Love,
Roy
June 28, 1944
Dear Mother,
Just got off guard duty. Had 2 on and 4 off for 24 hours. My post was the amo dump way out in the field.
I got the cookies about 3 days ago and they were perfect. None of them broken either. I still have over half of them.
Today I was transferred to the anti-tank section. I’m supposed to drive one of these big 6 x 6 jobs (six wheel drive) that pull the guns. Ours are 57 mm.
In the last problem when the tanks attacked we couldn’t get the AT guns up quick enough to meet the enemy tank counter attack.
The plan now is to tow the AT guns into the fight behind the tanks and then they’d be ready. We’ll ride the back of the tanks or get there the best way possible, I guess.
I got a package from Mrs. T. today. She didn’t include a note, but I suppose it was my birthday. Didn’t think she knew. It was a toilet article apron. She had everything imaginable in it. And I mean it was stuffed.
Love,
Roy
June 29, 1944
Dear Mother,
Now since I’m settled for a few days (I hope) I guess you can send my pictures.
Take my scrap book and put whatever pictures I have in it. Loose or otherwise. I’d like my college dance pictures in. You don’t have to stick them. The scrap book will help protect the girls pictures.
Might as well have them here for awhile anyhow. May be sending them right back, but I’d like them anyhow. I’ll put the ones I have in it.
This afternoon I go out to fire the 45 pistol again. I dug sod all morning to put in front of the officers quarters.
Boy, it’s really getting hot now. I can’t keep this paper dry in front of my pen.
Well, be sure and pack the pictures well when you send them.
Love,
Roy
June 29, 1944
Dear Mother,
Fired on range this afternoon and have Regimental Supply detail tomorrow.
(Non-official and tell no one). Our schedule says 6 weeks physical conditioning. That will mean lots of long hot hikes. Then we may go to the West Coast, and then ??? This is not certain, but that’s just about what it will be.
Got a birthday card from Betty and said she was sending a package. Didn’t know she knew either.
Here’s where I went to church last Sunday. (Bul. of service, First Christian Church, Denton enclosed and sermon was “How Should I Pray in War-time?”). Got Dad’s letter.
Love,
Roy
July 2, 1944
Dear Mother,
I warn you, I’m in a bad mood. Some chicken sh-- General found that we hadn’t white-washed a rock on our mud walk so we have work at night and on Sunday for awhile.
To boot I do not like the AT platoon. We put harness on that 57 mm and pull it. Has tires size of truck tires and heavy??!! I’m an amo bearer. Carry my own stuff and a load of shells strapped on my back.
Looks like the boys over there can do it if they don’t run out. Getting hit pretty hard, though. Especially on the Jap islands.
I wouldn’t be so mad if those stars hadn’t come around. (And I thought cadets treated you mean??!!)
I took my over-seas physical this afternoon. A-1 as usual. Don’t worry because that doesn’t mean we go at once. I’m bound to go sooner or later anyhow. I’ve been in quite awhile. I sure don’t trust the intelligence of some of our officers and NCO’s. Oh well!
Love,
Roy
July 4, 1944
Dear Mother,
The Regiment was restricted Friday and still is. All furloughs were canceled, passes, etc. We worked all day Sunday. Even had reveille and retreat to stand.
I think it was just (partly) because a visiting General didn’t approve of things. I’m bound to go soon, though, because I’ve been in so long and classified 1A. Many guys here aren’t physically fit, so probably I’ll go as a replacement, don’t know.
Not too awfully hot here during the day, but it stays the same all night, too.
I’m sending you a “Cactus Caravan,” just like a year book, and it’ll tell more than I could about training.
Got the paper roll, too. Say, you see that big heading in front of my name? Some stuff, huh?
Love,
Roy
July 7, 1944
Dear Dad,
Well, not much that I even feel like writing about. We get up at 4 in the morning to fire the 57 mm AT gun. Darn little I know about it, but fire anyhow.
The trouble with this is practically all the guys that go POR go as riflemen no matter what they trained for. And I don’t know anything tougher than a rifleman these days. Of course AT is about the same and no bed of roses.
Chiggers here are thicker than fleas at home. They keep us raw most of the time.
For the last week we’ve worked from 5 AM till 9 PM. Sunday was the longest and hardest of all. Even when we get off at night and lights are out, most of the guys have to wash clothes.
All my paper qualifications for over-seas are OK. All that waits now is to send me over.
We all watch the news closer than ever before now. If everyone wanted things to end as bad as we do, there’d really be some hustle. And I know about 90 percent of the civilians don’t know anything but rationing.
I know we’re not even being shot at now, but we know exactly what’s coming up.
Two days ago we had the ‘Combat in Cities’ course. Boy, that was rough. One bunch came down through the woods and we came up a hill through a draw to the town.
We were only cautioned to watch where we were shooting. I’m telling you, bullets splattered everywhere. And I think of Claude yelling when one whizzed half mile away.
I saw our machine gun bullets splatter all over the hill as the guys came down.
When you’d get up to run, some guy would nearly shoot your pants off. And when I’d shoot some guy would dive across the line of fire.
We also threw grenades and dynamite went off all around. Well, no one got hurt at all. I guess we just weren’t meant to get hit yet.
They get us so tired, hungry and pissed off, that we don’t give a damn for anything. I guess that’s about the only way most of us could do this stuff.
Tell Mother I got all of the pictures in good shape.
Roy
July 11, 1944
Dear Mother,
Still kicking around and OK. Got a washing to do and it’s 9 PM. Got a 2 day problem tomorrow and have to rush.
Went to Okie City on weekend. Had a swell time with a plum wonderful girl.
Can you send me one of my little civie pictures? I think you have an enlargement of it so you wont need that small one.
Pfc. means ‘Private First Class’ (one stripe). It’s nothing and just means an extra $4.00.
Lots of love and don’t worry,
Roy
Note: ‘Pfc.’ went on the return address of the 7/4/44 letter.
July 13, 1944
Dear Mother,
This morning we got up at 4:20 and marched 10 miles before breakfast with full field equipment. Made it in a bit less than 2 1/2 hours. Pretty darn fast.
Coming back we met all the vehicles going out. Trucks, tanks, half-tracks, etc,; all spewing dust on us. Boy, were we hungry, too.
Had a regular day after that and now I just got off first guard relief. Be on all night and all day tomorrow.
This past weekend I went to Okie City. Left 5:55 PM; arrived 10:00. Round trip on train cost $3.55.
I went to see ‘Ginny’ or Virginia Mae Hurst. She’s a very lovely girl and swell, too.
I’d compare her to Juanitia’s position if Levenia were dead. Her Mother’s dead, she works out and handles house, too. Pretty good Dad, but he does drink.
She said she was putting me up for the night. We messed around till after 2 AM, which is curfew, and then said I was to have her room. The little devil slept in the back yard on some blankets like we used to do. Nothing would have but that. (She’d been sleeping out anyhow). She said, “Now you’ve slept on the ground enough. You’ll have a good bed for once, anyhow.”
We had a lot of fun getting breakfast and cleaning up. Then she showed me her “hopeless” chest. Had mostly towels, sheets, etc.
She wants to go to college and major in child welfare so bad she can taste it, but no money.
Left at 6:20 and got through the gate with 40 minutes to spare.
I’m including a small picture of her. I have some more, but send this one back.
I’m also including one of Mrs. Thompson’s letters. Maybe I shouldn’t (and don’t tell her), but I want you to know what a swell person she is.
It is very possible that Margie and I will get married after the war if I’m still OK. I’m bound to be at least 21 and very likely a bit more when I get out. However, I’ll still be just exactly 18 years ahead in my real life. This will be a dull blank.
Love,
Roy
July 18, 1944
Dear Mother,
This paper has been carried on a very hot field problem. We were to stay out all week, but were called back in.
The initial inspection starts tomorrow. That’s for sure we pull out for some place soon. Don’t know where or care. This place is miserably hot and other stuff that’s bad
Went back to Okie City on the first 2 day pass I ever had and saw Ginny. Like her? She’s a pretty swell person.
Got my picture today and am sending it to her.
Fired bazooka and 57 mm gun the other day. Swiped a bazooka rocket and will send it home first chance.
Be good
Love
Roy
July 20, 1944
Dear Mother,
Hasn’t rained here for ages and it’s suffocatingly hot. Stays above 100 degrees. It used to cool off a bit in the late hours, but now we wake up sweating. The air out just drys up your skin and dust always.
We lose this Sunday again. Get up at 3 AM to fire the 57 mm.
Inspecting Generals are still causing us a lot of misery. Right now we’re restricted and marking out all identification on our clothes.
I don’t even like to discuss this junk we have to do. Its all so uninteresting and not wanted. Everyone hates it.
We even wear gas masks 2 hours a day. Can hardly breath without them, much less with them on. Just makes pool of water in the face piece. And makes my face break out.
War seems fair and we can all look forward to the end some time.
Our 57 range is right on top of the Red River Valley. Remember the song? Huge valley stretching into Oklahoma. Big and pretty, too.
Oh yes, POR means Port of Replacement.
Love,
Roy
July 25, 1944
Dear Mother,
Pouring rain (first for ages) and we’re going out for a week. Wont be able to write.
Seems now we have to work all the time. Sunday it was 4:45 AM till 6:30 PM. And have to next Sunday, too.
From now on I don’t expect I’ll be able to tell you everything that’s going on. It’s of no value to you at home anyhow and in the wrong hands it would be dangerous to us. I think censoring will start pretty soon.
Boy, if this war isn’t over soon there wont be a man with a brain in his head.
We hear from the AT boys who went over from here. They were fighting in France a month after they left. They aren’t afraid of the tanks (much), because they have guns big enough for them. But our 57 mm can’t fight the German’s 88 mm and snipers are bad on the big gun crews. Out Lieu over there told his buddy to “dig and dig deep.”
Well, bye and keep things up on the home front.
Love,
Roy
July 28, 1944
Dear Mother,
Well, we’re still here, but don’t know how long I can say that.
Right now about all I can discuss is heat. Yesterday at 5:30 PM it was 118 degrees. Someone said it was 125 degrees up in the day. And it happens every day. Nights are about as bad.
It’s about 10 PM now. At 11:00 we go on a 25 mile hike. It will take about 6 hours and that’s half running.
We had a 3 day problem first of this week. At 8 AM Monday we started. All had one canteen (1 pt) of water. The next water we got was 4 PM Tuesday. Got 1/2 cup tea for supper and 1/2 cup coffee for breakfast. Eat at 10 PM and 3:30 AM. For lunch we can only have a jam sandwich because anything else might spoil.
Yes, I got MamMaw’s card and $1.00. I’ll try to write, but we never even get off Sunday’s any more.
Our 57 gun is only fired in daylight because you can’t see where to shoot at night. It fires a 6 pound armor piercing projectile and has a muzzle velocity same as a 30 cal rifle.
Our General has some crazy ideas about its use that I don’t think he’ll ever be able to make the boys do in combat.
He wants it right on the front line. I guess they still think of it as a 37 mm which 5 men could push.
The muzzle blast is so big that it digs out the ground. Concussion breaks watches. They couldn’t help seeing it.
As soon as they saw us it would be less than a minute before mortar and artillery bracketed in. And we could do nothing because it takes a prime mover for it. If they break through the infantry can run, but .......
He also wants us to dig slit trenches instead of fox holes. If we have fox holes and a tank runs over our position we’ll jump in the holes because they’re protection against tanks. if we have only trenches he figures we’ll have to stay with the gun till the end. Phooey on him!!
Love,
Roy
July 31, 1944
Dear Mother,
Didn’t have to work this Sunday, but I didn’t go anywhere either. Payday is tomorrow.
I had $5.00 left so I’m calling Margie. She’s been asking me to for a long time, but I just haven’t. She always says reverse the charges, but I wont.
I’ll call home before I leave. The charges will probably be reversed then. I’m pretty sure they’d let us call even if we got our orders as long as we kept our mouth shut.
We know we’re going and probably as a unit instead of replacements, but don’t know when or where. I’ll lay my money on the yellow boys seeing us and I don’t think I’ll lose.
They pound it into our heads day after day about not telling what we’re doing so I wont mention anything. It’d be of no value to home folks anyhow.
I worked all day yesterday unboxing new 50 cal for our platoon. Of course every piece will be new before we fight.
You’d be surprised at the rumors that float through an outfit. Everything from India on around.
Had a very welcome thunder storm about 4 AM Saturday.
I guess they’re about ready to cut tobacco again. Everything is so different from ordinary life that I have to stop and think what would be going on at home.
Russians are doing pretty well, but in the Normandy front they still measure in yards. I believe that when they do break through it will be big and probably go nearly across France before another big defense line.
I still think Japan will be the hardest. On a very small island like Saipan our casualties were over 15,000 and there were only 20,000 Japs. That’s more boys than the whole Normandy works cost. But we’re still kicking hell out of them no matter how many get killed.
Be good.
Love,
Roy
August 4, 1944
Dear Mother,
Your elder son is still kicking. We made a five miler in one hour from 4 to 5 this morning. Walk one minute and run five with full equipment. Took a beating, but came out OK. A very lot of the big huskies fell on their faces, puking and otherwise, but I came out OK.
Tell you something I haven’t before. For three weeks they’ve been building practice gliders here. Got over 100.
This afternoon two 47’s came over and cut loose their gliders. We start training on them next week. Our airborne instructors came in last night. They told us we weren’t airborne unless they wanted to get us some place in a hurry.
We‘re still getting equipment ready. All new stuff now. This isn’t for anyone else. They took our wool blouses and gave us a heavy wool field coat. Snazzy looking, though. They also took all our mosquito equipment and all but one suit of cottons. Of course those things always fool you, but....
I’m getting along OK. Don’t know how much I weigh, but I don’t float yet. Pretty sure I’ll be here a couple or 3 weeks yet, too.
Lots of Love,
Roy
August 7, 1944
Dear Mother,
You make # 13 this afternoon. It has taken over four hours.
But don’t think you’re last every time because if I had time for only one then I guess it’d come to Mother. I think I’d better write one more. Might be dangerous.
I always get more letters than I can answer. I got 13 while I was in the field these last three days.
I got your package Saturday and Aunt Martha’s this morning. The guys have just about murdered the doughnuts, but I slipped the cookies in the bottom of my locker. They’re real good, and I don’t have to say how they’re appreciated.
I’ve got it easier now than the rifle companies. We’ve got hard work, but we always ride with our gun.
We fought a rear guard action for 25 miles while the rifle boys walked. We drove cross-country all the time. We’d stop and set up every mile or so.
The heat got 137 men out of our battalion (3 bns. in reg.) I saw a big guy fall and flop like a chicken. I saw a Sgt. helping a friend of mine. He started to walk and fell. Out for 3 hours. Another was walking and just vomited suddenly straight out.
Boy, they really had it tough. We rode and also hid some extra water on the truck, but it was still bad. We finished digging our gun in about 10 PM and dug our own slit trenches. I heard the other boys digging all night. Next morning they attacked from dawn till 2:30. We kept our position till 10 AM. So you see, I don’t have it nearly so bad as I could have.
I wrote just about half the folks I owe a letter today. Just don’t have the time.
When I go over seas I think I’ll take a $25 and two or three $10.00 bonds out. I wont be needing much. You know we get 20 percent extra over there.
Boys seem to be doing OK nearly all over, don’t they?
Right now I’m mad at civilians in general. I spent Sunday morning picking up lunch papers from a bunch of civilian workers here at the glider works. BAH!!
Love,
Roy
August 7, 1944
Hello, Dad-
Well, right now you’re getting a letter because I just wrote 13 and I thought I’d better not stop on 13. Oh, yeah!
I tell Mother just about everything there is so she can spread it around.
How’s things going on the tobacco this year? I wont even know what it looks like when I get back. The last I saw was the summer of 1942, you know.
People are always wanting to know what the GI wants now and after the war. They make such a racket about post-war, etc. I wish everyone realized that all we want is the war over and out. If they mess around and things string out, there wont be too many to worry about the post war.
I do hope they help us go through college, though. How much have I got? I forgot. When I go over I’m taking out a $25 and 2 or 3 $10.00. We get 20 percent extra you know.
Roy
August 12, 1944
Dear Mother,
This will be short because I’m pretty tired tonight. Been a pretty rough week. We finish glider training tomorrow.
Every day it’s been from 7 AM till 10:30 PM with only time out to eat. All day we loaded and unloaded our gun. It weighs 1 1/2 tons and is very cumbersome.
The door of the C-47 is over my head. We have to push it up and do a bit of lifting to get it around through the door. Then it takes 15 ropes to tie it down.
There are a lot of blisters, sore backs, and tired guys now, but we did it in an incredibly short time. Our crew put it on, tied it down, and got equipment loaded in 7 minutes 30 seconds. Got it off in 3 minutes 20 seconds. If the guys fight that way, and they will when the time comes, we’re bound to hurt some body and I don’t mean us.
An ordinary bunch of guys would have taken an hour. I judge by work at home. The test was at 4 PM. No one could hardly lift by then. Just nervous energy and spirit, I guess.
They’ve been giving all the guys glider and C-47 rides. Yesterday they wanted so many men from each company to jump. I volunteered, mainly to get out of the monotony for a day or so. They gave us some special instruction and then at the last minute they had too many and a sergeant got to go in my place.
When they reopened paratroops half the outfit volunteered. Me too. Then we were alerted for action and all closed down.
We’re gradually getting all new stuff. This is our staging area. Move directly to a port from here by all indications.
Our schedule here is made till middle of September (Snooper). Be sending some stuff home before long.
Ernie’s column?? Cookies and doughnuts splendid. Thank Auntie and you, too, Mother.
Love,
Roy
August 14, 1944
Dear Mother:
Just got back from the range. Finished in pretty good time today, but I’m pretty sore.
Our gun crew got all hits. Major said we had the best crew in the outfit, but we got a h... of a beating. Used heavily loaded amo this time. The concussion is terrific. It’s worse than the big guns because of such high velocity.
Afterward you feel just as if someone had been beating you with his fist. Had my ears plugged and kept my mouth open too. It rams air down your throat enough to choke you. And I was sure the next shot would burst my chest and gut. To anyone who’s ever hit the water flat from a high board--well, that’s a vague idea of how it is.
We only fired about 30 rounds, but it really shattered my nerves, as everyone else’s. I’d jump even when one of the farther guns fired. Of course in combat we’ll never fire that much at once, but I can just imagine an artillery or bombing attack.
It just takes a lot of will power to stay in there and keep the shells going in. Every shot was a hit. Those shell cases are nearly red hot when they come out, too.
I may have told you, but I will again. I’m not going to return the $75.00 I had sent to me. I’m taking out a $50.00 bond per month. It goes into effect when my foot hits the gang plank. About all we can buy is 4 packs of cigarettes a week at 5 cents per pack, and maybe some toilet articles. That’s what the officer told us.
Our colonel’s youngest son, a 2nd lieutenant, was killed in Italy about a week ago. His other son is a Lieutenant Colonel. If he’s anything like his Dad the bullet probably had a US on it.
They were gonna give us a pass tomorrow because of today. It never happened before and I knew it wouldn’t now. We have a problem tomorrow and Tuesday.
We really had a storm yesterday. De-roofed a lot of stuff.
I’ve just about forgotten how it is to live like we used to. Wont be long till it’ll be two years since I’ve been fishing or hunting, but I never even think of that.
Mostly now I wonder how long it’s going to be and what I’m going to do when I get out. I want to go back to school, but that would put me probably past 25 when I get out. But then I have no job to go to and don’t know anything because I spent my life on the farm. I guess I’ll just have to be carried with the tide.
Love,
Roy
August 22, 1944
Dear Mother,
Sorry I haven’t written, but we’re practically in jail with work. Both last Sundays have been work.
This Saturday night I had to get out of here or bust. Didn’t get back till 7:15 AM and had to go right to work. You can imagine my condition by Sunday night.
In the process of Saturday night I walked about 7 miles (Millions of thumbs and I’d get a “short ride” between towns), ran from the MP’s after curfew, and helped fix a blowout on a laundry truck I rode on.
I’m sending a box home sometime soon. Don’t know how I’m gonna get it away, but it’ll come COD from some one else’s address. If anything ever comes of the content you don’t know a darn thing. I can talk my way out of it.
The war does look lots better, doesn’t it? But it’s still not over.
I noticed in “AGR” that Paul Young, Lt. and very good friend, was missing. Notice all our guys are either officers or pvts. and pfc’s. No in betweens.
Got a letter from an A/C friend telling about all the graduations coming up next week. One guy graduating that I had to practically work every number of his work. Always drunk and dumb as all h.... Oh well!
Some wild Texas picture, no? Sent Margie one with hat on I liked better. Notice I’m getting more face? But OK otherwise.
Love,
Roy
August 27, 1944
Dear Mother,
I’m in Whitesboro now. A little town about 17 miles out of Gainsville. It’s been raining and is fairly cool.

Ida and the Gunner
I’m in my room now. It’s a little old hotel, but very comfortable. Cost a buck. A big bed and a nice little fan blowing me around. It’s only 6:45, but the girl I have a date with works in the theater. You can imagine her hours. I’ll sleep now (I hope I wake up) and then sleep late in the morning, too.
Mother, don’t mention anything I’ve told you about what we’re doing in your letters. They haven’t censored any of our mail yet, but they’re spot censoring incoming mail. See---??
Got the box of cookies yesterday. They were swell. I don’t need to say I liked them because you know how I always liked that kind at home.
The little Testament was nice, too. I think of the time you must have spent when I look through and see everything marked. I’m gonna have to be a pretty good guy to deserve a swell Mother like you.
I was just listening to the news. Sounds terrific, doesn’t it? We’ve come a long way, but I don’t think anyone ever had the slightest doubt. They usually can’t even find Patton’s army.
Don’t worry in the least about me going across. I have no doubt that we’ll go some place some time, but I still have quite a bit of time to serve in the states yet. And I think it’s an even bet that we may never have to fight. Maybe cigarette butts and empty brass for us. Can’t ever tell and of course I’m “dumb” as far as our business is concerned now.
Look for a box from 211 N.E. 9th, Okie City. Come COD by express.
Love,
Roy
August 31, 1944
Dear Mother,
It has been raining for the last three days. Since morning it has been a steady down pour. The camp is a lake of mud and water. The hut is usually full of mud, but now is just full of water.
Get the letter I wrote at Whitesboro? I think I told you I had a date. Well, I finished your letter about 6:30 and decided to rest a few minutes. The noise of the midnight show at 1:20 woke me up. Got things straightened out, though.
Monday I ran the Expert Infantryman’s course. I guess you’ve maybe read about it. You get a long blue and silver medal with a rifle on it. It’s not the medal, though. It’s the $5.00 extra per month over here and $10.00 over there. You read in the paper once in a while where some guy got one, usually overseas.
Took all day in the mud and till 1:30 at night. Quite thorough and lots failed, even my squad leader. Military discipline and courtesy, first aid, field sanitation, scouting and patrolling, day compass course, bayonet course, hand grenade course, range work, night compass course, and stuff thrown in.
On the compass course we’d be given a card and start at a certain stake and end at one. No chance to cheat because at the end of the course were several stakes no more than 20 yards apart. Over a mile of rough terrain at night it’s hard. You have to know how to set the compass for night. Then we have about four different readings like 800 yards at 150 degrees. Then’s when steps have to be accurate. Walk along watching the luminous works of the compass and counting and you fall about half through Texas. Anyhow I got through and made Expert Infantryman. That will bring me right at $70.00 overseas. I’d rather have a plane washing job in the air corps, but since I can’t, I’ll make the best I can out of this.
Just finished the cookies yesterday. They really were good. I gave away a few, but the box went into the bottom of my locker and I ate most of them.
Look for a box--Express and COD.
Love,
Roy
September 6, 1944
Dear Mother,
It’s 7:00 and I just put in a call home. You should hear from me in a couple of hours if you’re home.
Last Friday night I sat here from 8:10 to 12:00 and not even a peep. Line pretty crowded, I guess. Hope I get through better tonight.
I was about the only man who got out of the company this past week end. I’ve been on special duty for about three weeks and am not supposed to draw any company duty. I was up for KP and another detail Sunday. I went to the CO and got off. Lucky me.
It’s raining out now and nights have cooled up a lot. Some mornings I’ve even worn a jacket.
Got the box OK and Lou’s candy. She makes good candy. The guys like fudge too well. I showed them that little picture of her. Tell her I’ll write soon.
Those cookies are too well liked by all, too. But I’ve managed to keep a pretty good hand on them.
I hope you got the box. Saturday I mailed two suitcases.
War looks good from Germany’s stand point. Then we’ll gang up on the Japs. But there’s going to be a whale of a police up job and long, too, I’m afraid.
Suppose you’ve heard of the point system on letting guys out. So many points for married, kids, years of service, overseas, major battles, etc. I don’t have a single point. Bye for now.
Love,
Roy
September 14, 1944
Dear Mother,
I’m right at the end of a two-day pass. I’m at Ida’s now. Her grandfather wanted me to send this card. He’s just about like Pappy. Went hunting a couple times. Squirrels and doves. Yes, the bag was supposed to be empty. Got letters about Ruth.
Love,
Roy

Lots of Allies
September 15, 1944
Dear Mother,
Yes, I know, I’ve been a bad boy. Haven’t written for quite a while and hard work wasn’t the cause of it.
Had the regular week-end pass from Saturday afternoon till Monday morning. Then I got a pass from Monday afternoon till Thursday morning. Got in at 5:15. That gave me 15 minutes of sleep, but I made it up today.
For about the last 10 weeks I’ve been going to the same little town---Collinsville, with about 600 population. I know the people nearly as well as the folks in Burgin. I can walk into any one of a couple dozen homes and eat. I never buy a meal or rent a room any more.
Tuesday morning a fellow and I went squirrel hunting (can borrow a gun most any place). We got 17, all fox. Then we went dove hunting out on the prairie---as I’d only read about before. Got 26. We shot quite a few shot gun shells and about 1200 22 shells. They’re not hard to buy if you know where and know the people.
It doesn’t seem like you should be 49. Time sure does fly. I don’t yet feel like I should be a man, but I guess I must have grown up somewhere. I’m too rough looking for a kid any more.
That wasn’t my watch case. It’s a case and band that Ginny gave me. I will have to send my watch in to be fixed, though. There’s something busted about it.

My ‘coke truck’ ride to Collinsville - B&B too
The card I wrote was from Ida’s. Her grandfather, who is in about the same condition as Pappy, wanted me to send it.
If Ida ever writes to you, and she may, just write her a nice little letter if you want to, but just say a lot of nothing.
She’s prettier than that painted picture of her. I’ll tell you a bit about her as I have every other girl I ever met (and I’m pretty sure you’d spank me, but no harm was done anywhere).
She’s 22, lives with her Mother and Dad, has been married and has a daughter 3, but seems pretty nice. Everyone in town says her husband was no good, so I guess they can’t all be wrong.
But.....!!! She wants to get married too bad. Seems to have taken a terrible liking to me, too. And I haven’t the slightest notion of ever wanting her. Had a hard time getting rid of her tactfully last night. She begged in every way possible and promising everything there was. Even gonna give the kid to her Mother. She has about $600 which she was gonna give me right then and there. Brrrr!!! I’m glad I got out of that cause I certainly don’t want to get married now and certainly not to her. No trouble, you understand. I just don’t want the gal, but she and the family have been very nice.
I don’t see why I was never called to the phone. I sat rather close and asked about it at least once an hour. I’ll still try to call if I have a chance. Maybe I’ll call from around Betty’s--the Fisk gal, you know.
One of the huts burned the other day. Fellows were out at PT with only pants and under shirts. Burned the works---money, watches, etc.
Bought Margie a jewelry box made of mirrors. Put about $5.00 worth of stuff in it. Mostly toilet articles. She’s the girl I want. Sent me a couple beautiful color shots
I sent her my rings to keep for me. Too rough for them now and you know the Thompson’s well enough to know they’re safe. May have camera sent. Can take it over, but no film can be taken.
She still dresses like a kid, but she’s beautiful. And writes nearly every day.
I’ll send you the shots. Be careful with them and send them when I ask for them.
I got the ‘Ruth’ dope. I should have written, but I just don’t get letters even to home, but I’ll write.
Love,
Roy
September 22, 1944
Dear Mother,
I’m on guard for the next 24 hours. Between shifts now.
Quite a while back I got a card from Reader’s Digest saying I had a gift and I forgot. Received the September issue today.
It’s a swell book--about the best we could get, and it will have many readers.
I expect to go to church here this Sunday, but not prayer meeting.
Betty will probably write to you. I asked her to.
I’ll swear I don’t know which of those two I want. They both have their good points. Darn it! Why can’t I have ‘em both! I know it’ll be one of them, but which?? You watch--I’ll probably wind up with neither.
You’ll have to read between the lines in a lot of letters. You can learn a lot about me between those lines.
Love,
Roy
September 25, 1944
Dear Mother,
A bit chilly this morning, but gets hot during the day. Thought I’d get to write a letter, but I wont. Friend of mine in town will mail this. Don’t work too hard. Will write soon as possible.
Love,
Roy
Note: My bag came in at the Railway Express Agency in Burgin, COD, amount due $.82.
Recollections……
The low point in my life came as I got off the train. That train took me from my lofty dreams of officer and gentleman status right into the heat, dust and yelling of an infantry camp. Sad sacks by the hundreds came blinking off that train, got jammed onto trucks, and hauled off to temporary quarters. I knew not a soul. Most of the guys were from other branches of the service or had been yanked from some college training program such as the ASTP. They were momentarily lucky. They could hope for something good because they didn’t know the infantry. Having been there before I had no such a luxury.
The captain with close-cropped red hair was probably in his forties. He had the job of deciding where we would be placed in the outfit. He was kind and obviously sensed the agony I and the others before and after me were going through. Did I have a specialty? Was there anything I was good at doing? Morse code - I could take code at a fairly high rate. Anything else? I drew a blank. So he assigned me to communications in a headquarters company. I had only a vague impression of what I might be doing there, but I was more than pleased that he had not put me in a rifle company. I knew full well what those guys had to do.
The mix of people in head quarters company left me almost open-mouth and staring at times. First were the new guys like myself. They came from all over the military and held ranks from private, like me, to master sergeant. Corporals, buck sergeants, and ‘T’ ranks were plentiful. No one got reduced in rank just because they had been transferred with stripes but now assigned to do the job of a private.
Then there were the guys who had been with the outfit since its formation. Some were draftees or volunteers with a year or so of service; some were regular army with many years of service. A few were in their late thirties. Most seemed rather sensible and reasonably well-educated; some made you wonder whether they even had an upstairs.
How could such an assortment of people ever get along much less work together. Demoralization on the part of the newcomers reached an ever lower level. Eventual promotions for us? Forget it! The company now had at least five times the rank called for in its TO. There were even three first sergeants, but the original top kick who came with the outfit ran the show.
Bill Angsten, our squad leader, was first to launch a grenade from a Springfield ought three. He shouldered the rifle, carefully judged the expected trajectory, pulled the trigger, and landed flat on his back with a big gash in his jaw. Don’t shoulder a rifle with a grenade on the business end!
Bill was also first to unleash an anti-tank rocket from a bazooka. With the carry strap across his back, Bill stood ready. His helper wired the rocket for firing; then slapped Bill on the shoulder indicating ready to fire. The bazooka tube gave a mighty surge and Bill wound up on his face some yards toward the target. Some part of the apparatus had gotten bent and the rocket had stuck in the tube.
A three-day exercise took us into the far reaches of the camp going night and day. Near midnight of the second night two of us were assigned to remain behind and direct a convoy of trucks to go a certain direction. The area where we waited was prairie like with weed and grass growth head high or better. Now and then we heard truck engines and the clattering rumble of tanks, but we never saw any. Dead tired we collapsed into the heavy growth and slept till daylight never giving a thought to what our plight might be should vehicles come through.
When there was enough light to see we debated what we should do. Following the tracks of vehicles was useless; they went in every direction. We had neither food nor water, so staying put was not attractive. We started walking trying to maintain a straight line of travel. Within a couple of hours we came to a gravel road. On the other side was a house. Apparently we had come to the edge of the reservation.
What should we do? Hunger and thirst dispelled all timidity. We crossed the road and knocked on the door. The folks were just getting ready to have breakfast. The gave us ham, eggs, biscuits - about the best breakfast I can remember. They asked for nothing, but we gave them two dollars. They then pointed us in the direction of camp. I’m not sure that our people ever missed us.
Douney was the star of our Headquarters Company touch football team. I can see him now, soaking wet, hair flying, thick eye glasses firmly in place, chargiiinng around end for yet another touchdown. Whenever there was time off from the exhausting drudgery of infantry training a game was likely to materialize in the grassless parade ground area. It was called touch football, but no one was considered touched unless the touch was sufficient to put the ball carrier in the dirt.
Just the right additional training and conditioning for tough line soldiers it would seem. Not so! A few days after play began it was halted by a general order from Division. Touch football is too rough. Soldiers might get hurt. Then they would be unable to participate in the training needed to kill people.
I watched the games but did not play. My forte was the horse shoe pits. I thought I was pretty good. My three-quarter turn pitch usually resulted in fifty percent ringers. But a buck sergeant from another company closed the book on me. He threw a shoe that seemed to flip-flop in every direction. Ninety percent, he bragged. Only he wasn’t bragging.
The 57mm anti-tank gun that we married for better or worse took a lot of getting used to. Though it was only a small step up from the 37mm of WW I, it seemed a big chunk of steel to us. We first practiced dry firing on stationary targets; then on moving targets. Next we loaded it with, believe it or not, 22 caliber cartridges. There was an insert for the 57 mm barrel that contained a centered 22 caliber barrel. That big gun made a rather silly PFUTT sound when fired with 22 amo.
After a bit of practice we upgraded to a 30 caliber insert. The result was little more impressive than firing the 22 amo. But then the first regular load went in, and went off. Oh man! That muzzle blast was impressive! I felt as if my face had flattened a bit. Later I discovered that Lord Elgin wrist watches get tangled springs from such treatment. I could only imagine the effect of firing one of the big guns.
Beer party at the rec hall tonight! That announcement brought yells of delight and beaming smiles to most faces. A few of us, myself included, could only feign delight. I had yet to engage in drinking anything with alcoholic content. I went to the parties with my cohorts, but the kegs went dry without my help. Oh, I tried some of it, but simply could not stand the taste of the nasty stuff. My drink of choice was a tall pineapple ice cream soda at the PX.
My one stripe designating me as a private first class came part way through training with the 103rd. I got that single stripe only because Congress ordered that any buck private who served without any bad conduct time for twenty-four consecutive months should be so rewarded. Everyone wanted the rank of Pfc, but in GI lingo translate that as Poor F------ Civilian.
I had a two day pass and was part of the hitch hiking lineup outside the camp front gate. Most guys were headed for Gainesville, one of the other nearby towns or Denton. My destination was Oklahoma City and Ginny, my very nice girl friend from the days of El Reno and primary flight training.
A dark sedan rolled slowly by, stopped several car lengths past me, then backed up and stopped again. The back door swung open, a blond leaned out and said, “Where you going, soldier? Get in! We’ll take you there!”
Surprised? Yes, a bit, but I was largely past being surprised by anything. Anyway, a soldier offered a ride took it even if it was going in the wrong direction. The first essential was to get away from camp and the hoard of soldiers trying to do the same thing. Then you could move in the direction you wanted to go. Generally, the thumb was the best and fastest method of transportation. No schedules, no cost, and nearly everyone stopped for a service man asking for a ride.
The car was driven by a civilian guy maybe thirty years old. A woman about the same age held down the passenger seat. The blonde in the back seat identified herself as Ida. They quickly informed me that they were out on a lark and had dropped by camp specifically to get a companion for Ida. They had driven by, inspected the offerings, and she had selected me. I never got back to Okie City.
Fifteen thousand plus soldiers crammed into a sparsely populated piece of northern Texas, and one of them finds a home away from home within a few miles of camp. I was lucky beyond belief. I had transportation to and from camp, a car to use when I got there, free lodging, free food, a girl to pal around with, and even a bit of hunting.
Collinsville, Texas was, and still is, a town about the size of my growing up place, Burgin, Kentucky. It was home to Ida and her companions in the car the day I was collected at the camp gate. My first night there I stayed in a two-story wood frame hotel. There was a wash basin; no bath. Cost was a dollar a night. Ida made better arrangements for me for subsequent visits.
Mitchell (I’ve forgotten his first name) serviced the Coke machines at camp. Whenever I could manage a pass all I had to do was catch him at the gate. Then not only did I have free limo service to Collinsville, I also had free room and board at his home. They lived in a small frame house with their three kids. They put a cot for me in a large open closet. The food was great. One afternoon Mitch hauled out an old 12 gauge pump and we did some pigeon shooting right in his back yard.
The driver on my initial ride to Collinsville was an all together different character. T.S. Tidwell was his name; we called him ‘Tid’. Tid had been in the army, but had been discharged because of wounds he’d received in combat. The combat, however, was not with either the Germans or Japanese, but between Tid and the father of the woman with him in the car that afternoon. Her Pop considered Tid an unsuitable companion for his daughter. After failing to peaceably persuade Tid to try other pastures, he took it upon himself to eliminate Tid with a six-shooter. He did quite a bit of damage, but failed to discourage Tid. The woman whose name I cannot recall lived alone in a rather nice home. Maybe it had been her father’s. I didn’t ask.
Tid had a nice car, plenty of money though no apparent means of support, seemingly unlimited gasoline, and was generous to the extreme never letting me pay for anything. Tid told me that in earlier days he had been a rum runner operating high speed boats hauling liquor from islands in the Caribbean to the southern part of Florida. Come the war and that became impossible. I never asked him what he was currently doing.
Tid also liked to play with fire. One afternoon we headed off on a squirrel hunt. We had a couple of octagon barrel pump 22’s and plenty of long rifle cartridges. On the way out of town Tid pulled into a hamburger joint; the only restaurant in town. Said we had to get Jackie.
Jackie? Yep! Jackie. She was a well-developed sixteen year old redhead who worked there as a waitress. She was waiting outside and hopped aboard when Tid opened the door.
Tid’s favorite place for squirrel hunting was a dry creek bed bordered with big trees. It was cool in the heavy shade, easy walking in the sand, and squirrels were plentiful. Combat training was a million miles away.
On this occasion Tid said I should go down the creek; he and Jackie would go up. We’d meet there at the car in a couple of hours. I came back with three or four squirrels; Tid even had a couple.
We dropped Jackie off at the restaurant. Tid gave her the squirrels and told her to have them ready for us that evening. She did. All four of us came for a squirrel dinner that evening, but first Tid cautioned me that it would be big time trouble if his lady friend learned about Jackie. Oh boy!! I didn’t want to be in the middle of that one. She was a nice person. Her Pop was probably right about Tid.
Ida had been married, abandoned, divorced, and lived with her parents with her three year old daughter. The old folks reminded me of my grandparents, Ma and Pappy Reeves. They took care of the little one while Ida worked (and looked for a mate), let us use their car, and were all round nice people.
Ida ran the local movie theater in the evenings. She sold tickets until show time; then started the projector. We then had the rest of the evening to ourselves unless it was a long movie requiring changing of reels.
Collinsville was a happy place for me in the midst of infantry training. Going into that little town among the good and friendly people took me totally away from any feeling of wartime. Not one in a thousand of my cohorts had such a release. When my last pass came, though, it was time to go and not return. Ida wanted a permanent relationship I had no wish to provide.
Instant silence came over the mess hall. All eyes turned toward the head table where the top noncoms ate together. I’m sure a lot of guys wanted to laugh, myself included, but not a soul had the guts to do so.
The tables had been built with bench seats on either side thus making the table and seats inseparable. Our first sergeant, a rather large man, was sitting at the end of one of these benches when the floor beneath the near table leg gave way. Sarg dropped no more than a foot or so, but everything on the table came his way. Most damaging of all was the gallon pot of hot coffee. It hit him right at the neck line and drenched his whole front. He said not a word nor did he rush to free himself from the scalding liquid. Top was one tough cookie.
Twelve guys, ammo, and a one and one-half ton 57mm gun in the bowels of a glider? That’s what they said we had to do. So for some days we practiced man handling our gun into a glider, then trying to tie it securely enough so that it wouldn’t break loose, wreck the glider and kill the passengers upon landing. We never found a way that promised success. Reports of our difficulties must have gone up the line. Practice was discontinued and glidering never mentioned again.
Most of the division was heavily involved with war games. The guys in my platoon, however, along with some others, had cushy jobs for several days. All small arms had to be reblued. Glints from shiny rifle barrels were to be eliminated. One by one companies brought in their weapons. We disassembled them by the thousands. Stocks plus a can containing parts all labeled with the serial number of the weapon were neatly stored. Barrels went elsewhere to be blued. As the freshly blued barrels returned we reassembled the weapons. When that job was complete we knew we’d not be packing them around Texas much longer.