October 10, 1944: Waste of Manpower

 

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, October 10, 1944.

Transcription:

October 10, 1944

My darling wife,

Today I have been working just awfully hard. After breakfast, I changed into my best uniform and went down to Headquarters to apply for correspondence courses. I didn't find out much. Was sent from the Orderly Room to Headquarters; from Headquarters to Special Service, from Special Service to the Field House where I finally found the guy who is the expert in this field. Mr. Expert gave me the following advice: to write to Washington and ask them. I thanked him for his all-inclusive information and walked back to my barracks. There, I lay down to recuperate from the hard labor. After about half an hour of sweet dreams, a lieutenant happened into the barricks. He thought he may have some work for me; I should change into fatigues and report to him. It took me another half hour to change clothes, then I reported to the lieutenant. He referred me to the first sergeant, who deferred me to the corporal, who told me to remain in the barricks till he called me. At chow time, one of the boys woke me up, and I really had an appetite after all that hard work. I wouldn't have minded it so much if they had given me some rest in the afternoon, but the Army would not consider such a waste of man-power. At 1:00pm, I was to report to help breaking, loading, and unloading rocks. At 1:30, the corporal in charge appeared and told us to wait at the next block for the truck which was to pick us up. At 3:00, the first sergeant appeared and asked us what the hell we were doing, lying in the grass, smoking, and shooting the bull? We told him we were waiting for the truck, so he asked three of us (including me) to go with him. Ten minutes later, the truck got there, and the boys who stayed really had to work hard. The three of us, however, were told to go to the supply room and get shovels. The supply room was closed, so we waited. It finally opened up at 4, we got our shovels. In the meantime, the first sergeant had disappeared, and we didn't know what to do with the shovels, so we sat down and waited. Right now, it is close to five. We are still waiting.

Time for retreat now. The first sergeant is still missing; probably a.w.o.l. No kidding, this waste of manpower in the army is scandalous.

Did you read about the plan that came out of the Dumbarton Oaks Conference? If it should be followed, and it probably will, it means that our kids or at least our grandchildren will have to fight a war again. There just can't be any peace as long as nations retain their sovereignties. Also, the fact that the proposed counsel can't do anything but make suggestions, means that no nation will ever take it serious. It seems as though they will never learn.

It's after seven now, and I am at the Service Club, waiting for Johnnie. Just wrote two letters: one to Winton, one to the Shelleys. Writing letters is almost a recreation here, for one has to do at least a little thinking for it. Elsewhere in the army, the ability to think is a liability rather than an asset. 

What is the address of Philip? I think I shall look him up one of these days, just to see another one of the possible types our kids might resemble.

I do hope army life won't last forever, but the news of Europe seems to indicate that the Germans may be able to hold out through the winter. Not a very pleasant prospect.

Oh yes. If you should have hid at the extreme corner of your closet some extra clothes hangers which you are just about to render to the scrap drive wrap them up and send them to your hubby. We need them pretty badly, and they can't be had for any amount of dough. Send them only, though, if you don't need them, for I get along without them better than you would.

No sign of Johnnie yet, so I think I'll go investigate. For some strange reason, I had no K.P. today and won't have any tomorrow. The sergeant must be slipping.

Good night, darling. If you head would rest on my shoulder now, I would be perfectly happy.

Forever,

Tom.

I do believe this letter contains within it all of my arguments for why I struggle to work for institutions of all sorts. My tolerance for inefficiency and waste is severely low. I have become much better, even recently, as my fierce need for efficiency has some terrible consequences for my sanity (and those around me). But my God, this army day of Opa's is testing my zen-like growth. 

Anyone in any institution can attest that the army is not the only behemoth with efficiency problems. I think the whole thing would be easier to swallow if they weren't so insistent on pretending they are such a well-oiled machine. I think I mentioned this before, but just like you can rag on your mother but no one else is allowed to- those in the military all know very well how ridiculous things are- but if you are NOT in the military- you better shut your mouth. I get a pass as a military brat.

I was once a part of an organization (I won't say which, to protect the innocent) that had every bathroom in the facility outfitted with brand new, fancy soap dispensers and hand dryers. Just six months later the bathrooms were remodeled, with recent upgrades cast to the side. Or maybe it was the door locks on the stalls. I can't remember, but it was ridiculous. 

October 9, 1944: Sad Shift

 

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, October 9, 1944.

Transcription:

October 9, 1944

Dear old lady,

Three minutes just aren't enough. The call just came through, and in my mind are still all the many things I was going to tell you when we were so rudely interrupted.

When I came home late last night from a long visit with Johnnie, today's K.P. list was posted, and I was again assigned to the Officer's Mess. So, I wound a towel around the foot of my bed and was awakened early in the cold, dark more. The work wasn't bad, in fact I think the horrors of K.P. are vastly exaggerated. Not that I like it, but I bet thousands of boys overseas would give their paycheck to get K.P.

Last night, Johnnie and I went to a Service Club. We played chess for a while (Johnnie beat the life out of me), and then, while Johnnie danced, I had a good look around the library.

Today, shortly after dinner, I was called away from K.P. for processing. First, they gave us a test in electrical work; out of 50 questions, I got 43 right. That gets me in the highest group; the average is 20 and less. Afterwards, we were interviewed and classified. After basic, if there should be any openings, I would get into radar work. As second choice and most probable, they listed me as radio repairman; third choice, repeaterwant. (not sure of this transcription?) Radar would let me go to an Eastern school right after basic, while both other possibilities take two to six months training our even more right here at Crowder. I may have had a chance to apply for O.C.S., but for the time being I turned it down. It would mean at least one or two extra years in the service.

Well, I have to admit that I am rather tired today, so I will quit and get a good night's sleep. My sergeant must be slippery, but I am not listed for K.P. tomorrow. (He probably has some ditch he wants dug, or some latrine he wants cleaned.)

Lots of love,

Tom.

When Opa mentioned that he bet thousands of boys overseas would give their paycheck for K.P., I had a brief moment when I thought he was talking about Europeans. Then I realized he was talking about American soldiers, which of course makes absolute sense. But for some reason this realization made me sad. 

Opa's mind is off of his past and those from home, and on the present, in his new country. Sympathy and perspective was gained by comparing to US soldiers, not European soldiers, or  citizens. It's a shift for Opa. It makes me a little sad. I know he still cares for folks back in Germany, still worries about his family, but something in this shift shows me that Opa is beginning to forget. 

When we were growing up, Opa didn't talk much about Germany to us. He didn't ever mention his friends, we barely heard about his family. Even in his autobiography, everything was written as a prelude to him joining the army, as if he were hoping and planning to have the opportunity to be in the US military and fight against the Nazis. He certainly never mentioned his past pacifism. 

This is one of those subtle moments when Opa moves into his new life, leaving the old behind. 

October 8, 1944: I'll go to a USO dance

 

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, October 8, 1944.

Transcription:

Sunday, Oct. 8 1944

Dearest,

Yesterday, I made the acquaintance of three extremely interesting boys; I wrote to you about one of them already, M.I.T. graduate with postgraduate work in Math, born in Brooklyn and half-Jewish. Very well educated and brilliant. The second guy an Italian specializing in languages and music; wonderful piano player. The third guy "just" an ordinary American; graduated from Chicago U., master at Princeton, and PhD. at Howard. The four of us ate out for dinner and had a real good discussion at the Service Club. When ready to leave there, whom did I meet? Johnny! He is still at Camp Crowder and probably will be here for quite a while. Still a buck private, he told me to forget everything about ratings in the Signal Corps, for they can't be had anymore; also, he gave me plenty of other dope about this camp which might come in handy some time. (Among other things, ways to bypass the pass difficulties; I'll write you more about that when we can make use of it.)

I am just starting the Sunday now; it is eight o'clock, the barracks are cleaned and we finished breakfast. At ten, I have a date with Johnnie, but I have to be back at 11:30, because at that time is mail call, and I've got to get your letter.

It's in the afternoon now, I am with Johnny in the Service Club. There was no mail from you today, but there will probably be some tomorrow. Johnny and I had a good time today, talking about old times and times to come.

There is a recorded musical program, and Beethoven at that, going on right now. They are just playing Beethoven's ninth, one of my favorites. I shall linger awhile, maybe "our" fifth will follow!

We are planning to go to a show tonight, don't know where or what yet, though.

I finally found out how to behave in the army in order to get far. Here are some of the rules: 1) Stay away from a. non-coms and b. commissioned officers as long and as far as possible. 2) Never volunteer for any job; it won't get you out of doing what you were supposed to do, but just gives you additional work. 3) Do as little work as possible. 4) Count all little sins as long as you can get by with them. 5) Gripe and cuss at least 24 hours a day. 6) Know nothing. If you should know anything at the time of induction, forget it as fast as possible. 7) Work as slowly and inefficiently as possible. If they give you a job of one hour, make it last the entire afternoon. If you don't, they'll find something else for you to do.

These are just a few suggestions which Johnny and I consider as most effective toward full success in the Army. Just yesterday afternoon, the fourteen of us who were dumb enough to hang around the barracks when the corporal was in charge, were issued a spade each and had to dig a ditch, three inches deep, a foot and a half wide, and approximately 60 feet long. Alone in civilian life, it would take approximately one hour to do a job like that. There were fourteen of us. We started on the job at one p.m. Every hour, we had a ten-minute smoking period, and at 5:15, we actually had the job finished. I am sure we fulfilled all applicable points of the above suggestions, and therefore are all on the road to being excellent soldiers.

I'll have to stay on good terms with my company commander, a very young first lieutenant. When I'll be ready to apply for my citizenship papers, I'll need his recommendation and benevolence. It will depend on him whether I will get or keep from getting my citizenship. Those are Johnny's words, and he is getting his. It will be several weeks yet, though, before I can even apply for them.

The music has shifted from Beethoven to Frank Sinatra. What a sacrilegious conglomeration of art and blasphemy!

That's all, folks. There better be a letter in the mail tomorrow! If not, I'll go to a U.S.O. dance.

Smooches,

Tom

(over!)

Dear Marjorie,

I was happy to hear that you are now Mrs. Thomas W. Doeppner and I wish you all the luck and happiness. Tom is a changed man he is talking all the time about you. I hope to see you very soon at Camp Crowder.

John

I don't remember where Johnny is from. I wonder if he is one of Opa's previous coworkers- I think that's it. Opa is happy to spend time with Johnny and get the "dope" on army life. I remember Opa using this term in an earlier letter: the 1940s slang for "inside scoop." When I was growing up, dope was drugs, I think it might still be that.

Opa also spent some time with some highly educated folks, probably a lot of fun for him, all of them in the army for un-army reasons. Opa's main goal was to get citizenship, but that is still a long time away. My guess is that he has to finish (and pass) basic training before he is eligible for citizenship. Even now, he isn't quite all the way in the Army, or at least I think he doesn't have all of the benefits until he's made it through initial training. I might be wrong about that. Johnny is applying for citizenship as well. Opa benefits from Johnny's time ahead of him, getting a front row seat to his own likely path if he does everything right.

The army "rules" are so very typical. Already Opa is learning the military humor, where everyone makes fun of the army like you make fun of your own siblings. No one outside the military is allowed the same jokes, just like you wouldn't let someone talk bad about your family, no matter how true their comments might be. It's a weird mix of self-deprecation and pride. 

I'm starting to think that Opa smoked socially with his army friends. This wasn't so uncommon but I never knew Opa as a smoker. I wonder when and if that started/stopped.

John's little note was a little odd, saying that Opa was a changed man, talking about Grandmother all the time. I mean... if I were Grandmother I would ask why Opa wasn't talking about me before or what all needed changing. I'm probably reading too much into it. Hopefully Grandmother didn't have that same problem. 

Hope Opa gets mail soon, or he'll have to go to a USO dance! 

October 7, 1944: Rumors...Lots of Rumors

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, October 7, 1944.

Transcription:

Dearest,

I didn't write last night on account of lack of time. By the time I had showered, shaved, shined shoes, shampooed, sh___, the lights went out and I was too lazy t go over to the P.X. We had 15 hours of K.P. straight, but it wasn't so bad. Most of the time I washed pots and pans. However, this monotony was interrupted every once in a while by peeling spuds, scrubbing the floor, and cleaning out garbage cans. The mess sergeant as well as most of the cooks were rather pleasant, though, and I assure you we didn't work ourselves to death. One thing about this K.P., though: I'll be doing all the dishwashing, cooking, etc. which I want to do in the Army, so when and if I get back, I won't even enter the kitchen except for inspection and an occasional raid on the refrigerator. But then, since I have a wife who just loves to do dishes and who is an excellent cook, all this will work out just nicely.

This letter is written with intermission. Just got back from oversea-duty dental and optical examinations. Apparently my teeth are very poor, for I am temporarily disqualified on account of them. They will be fixed during basic, and then I'll be ready for oversea duty. (I shall probably get some G.I. glasses too, but I won't have to wear them.) After that, we cleaned the grass, chopped wood, and were otherwise entertained. It's dinnertime now, and I am writing this while waiting for the bugle. Loudspeakers are broadcasting music. That's a nice detail of this camp: most of the day, we have music all over the camp that way. If this were good music, it would be better yet. At meal time, when we are at mess hall, there is a special newscast from U.P., as well as camp new and announcements of what the various camp theaters have to offer.

The pass situation doesn't look quite as bad as I assumed. There will be a chance, after two weeks, together a weekend pass if I have some special reason. So, write me a letter, undated, saying that you will be in Kansas City next weekend and wonder if I can make it down there. Write in pencil or blue ink so that I can furnish the date. It won't be before at least two weeks, though.

Dinner is just over. We eat here family style which has the disadvantage that the meals usually are cold by the time we get there.

It is going to be very hard to get a rating in the Signal Corps. I talked to some guys who are in advanced training: a graduate from M.I.T., a guy who has his Ph.D. in El. Eng., a guy who owned and operated his own radio station in peace time: here in the Signal Corps their rank is back private; one of them. Pfe. That is rather discouraging. There may be a chance for O.C.S., but everybody advises me not to apply for it: it will mean a far longer time of service and almost assured occupation duty. Well, I'll have to see. There is a danger that we may be sent overseas right after our basic six weeks; this happened to the group who finished their basic here a month ago. Rumors... lots of rumors...

Your letter got here today. Herb's gift is so awfully thoughtful; he always was good at things like that. Your friendship with Maridean (are you sure that's spelled right?) sounds okay. Fosdick (this is the spelling!) is good, but he writes too much and is just a little on the sentimental side. Just perfect for a Danforth girl. I don't think he is much of a philosopher; rather a pretty fair preacher.

There is one thing I'll have to get used to in the Army: that is to obey the orders of some damn 20-year old corporals or sergeants or lieutenants who don't know anything of what they are doing.

Time to go back to work. Write often and much!

Love,

Tom.

Opa is knee-deep in Army life now, from a full day of K.P. (kitchen patrol) to already making decisions about how long he wants to stay in versus the quality of assignment. The OCS he is talking about is "Officer Candidate School." Right now Opa is enlisted, but as a college graduate, he has the ability to apply to OCS and potentially become an officer. The benefit is higher levels of pay, potentially better assignments, and higher ranking. The part that Opa is hesitant about is that OCS and becoming an officer requires a higher level of commitment to the Army, in years and assignments. 

I'm surprised everyone is encouraging Opa not to apply to OCS. My guess is that the group is all enlisted men who are there via the draft or for other reasons that have nothing to do with a long-term career in the military. Opa is not on that long-term path, and he seems hesitant even for an overseas assignment. Right now, Opa is just trying to fulfill his obligations, get citizenship, and somehow find a way to settle down somewhere with Grandmother as soon as possible.

I laughed a little at Opa's poor teeth. He likely did not get the nutrition or dental care that he needed in a rationed German upbringing, no matter how financially stable his family had been in the early years.

I can imagine his dismay when he found out that folks with higher and more prestigious education remained in lower ranks in the Signal Corp. This is the officer vs. enlisted problem he's facing. He's keeping his options open and remembering to be careful about the rumors he believes- since there are so many rolling around. 

I love Opa's sneaky method for getting Grandmother to write a letter that could win him a ticket to see her the moment it is possible. This is the Doeppner way: find a loophole (or shortcut) and take it. Not an illegal or harmful one- more like an efficient one. 

I am only recently confronting the negative consequences of my desire and compulsion to be constantly efficient. You'd be surprised how it can fan out. I sometimes do nothing because the way is not efficient enough, and to me it is better to wait and find the "right" way than to try something and "waste" time. The problem is that I end up not trying or doing a lot of things that may have worked, or at least been a good journey for me. I'm working on it! 

But yeah, this thing Opa did: brilliant and I would totally have done the same. 

Another Doeppner trait that I'm not ashamed to claim: a healthy criticism of authority. This is decidedly not very German, but it is very Doeppner. Opa had it, my Dad has it, and I have it. How Opa and my Dad survived in the military is beyond me. I am much more respectful as I've matured, but if you threw 20 year old me in the military, oh lord, I would have been the fittest person there because I'm pretty sure my mouth would get me extra laps, sit ups, push ups- whatever they do to sassy recruits.

October 5, 1944: Opa's Not in Kansas Anymore

 

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, October 5, 1944.

Transcription:

Oct. 5, 1944

Dearest,

Finally, we landed at Camp Crowder where we will be for at least seven or eight weeks. This morning, at 3:30, I was awakened from a wonderful snoar, had to report at my P.O. at 3:45. I hurried to get there in time, then waited in his office till 4:30. Why they didn't let me sleep that extra hour, I don't know. We ate breakfast and boarded an army truck which took us to the train. There were only five of us; I was the youngest in the bunch, the others ranging from 26 to 33. I felt sort of funny, being the leader of that group of older men. The sergeant gave me the railroad tickets, orders, papers, meal tickets, etc., told me when I would get where, what to do there and why, and asked me to keep the destination etc. secret until we had boarded the train. It so happened the I had told the gang already, but the sergeant didn't know that. We left Leavenworth at 5:35, had about half an hour layover in Kansas City, and arrived at Camp Crowder at noon. No change of train from Kansas City to Camp Crowder.

The trip was very pleasant. We played poker from Leavenworth to Kansas City (I lost 24 cents). In K.C., we just had time for a cup of coffee before lining up for the train. It certainly makes it simpler to travel when one is in uniform. We could pass up the entire line, women, children, 4-F's, and boarded the train first. I didn't feel quite right about that, for most of those people were far more tired and exhausted then we guys.

I never did know whether we were in Kansas or Missouri during the trip, for we went straight south for the greatest part of the time. At about 10:30, the M.P. announced that we would have a 15-minute stop with free canteen for all service-men. I thought we were deep inside Missouri, but the place was Pittsburg, Kansas. We had coffee, cookies, sandwiches, cake, cigarettes... I think we are getting spoiled.

The further south we got, the more did the landscape turn to my liking. Fall is coming rather late this season, and the trees are just beginning to turn. Some still green, some yellow and brown, and there were some birds in the prettiest red. Gradually, the country became more hilly, and there were strips of forests, ever increasing in size from shelterbelts to something which almost approached a real forest. Small lakes and streams kept reminding me that we were getting out of Kansas.

I inquired about meals in the diner, but found out that they won't be served till 11:45. At 11:59, our train was supposed to arrive at Camp Crowder. So, I gave the chef cook a little pep talk, and, sure enough, at 11:15, half an hour before regular serving, he had fixed us five meals. Uniform did it again. It was a good meal at that.

At camp, we had to wait around quite awhile and then ate again (at about two o'clock). They had dinner waiting for us, and couldn't disappoint the K.P.'s. Well, it didn't take much persuasion to make us eat it. (Fried eggs, bacon, potatoes, veal loaf, oranges, and apples.)

The barrack here are not nearly as good as Leavenworth; rather shabby and dirty, also, at present at least, very crowded. They put beds up in the center to hold the crowd, one of which I have.

Nothing official as been said yet, but according to rumors, we will start our basic training a week from this coming Monday. It will take abut six weeks for basic, then about three months for special training. Only then shall I be eligible for a furlough. All that, however, is not official, but just a rumor. Official is, however, the fact that I am scheduled for K.P. tomorrow. I guess that's the way to break us into camp, for all five of us have K.P. tomorrow.

I took a little walk around the camp today; it's awfully big and not nearly as nice as Leavenworth, but I shall probably like it alright. Tonight, I feel kind of lonesome and would like so badly to be with you. It may be a long while now before I can see you again; also, I want more than just seeing you or spending a weekend or a furlough with you: I want us to stay together, to build a home in which we can live for a longtime. Where we can unpack our suitcases and boxes without storing them at a place where they are easily available. But that time seems very far away, so far that it becomes difficult to even make plans for it. Even after the war is over, it may take years before we can find such a place. When we have it, though, it is going to be the best home in the world, with love radiating from every brick, every window and open door. We both know how badly we want and need this, and how ready we are for it; all we can do in the interim is to remain strong and always keep this goal in mind, and to have faith in each other.

While I am writing this, I am sitting in the telephone office, where I put in a call for you. It ought to get here any minute, and I am so eager to hear your voice. You don't know how comforting the idea is that you are my wife now; that I have you for keeps, that I may love you and be loved by you!

After an hour of waiting, your call just came. It always helps, darling. The rate is considerably higher here, so I guess we will have to quit at three minutes on our calls, and I shall use the money I save that way to call more often. I am sure glad about Yvonne's and Herb's presents. You don't need to be embarrassed about the silver, for Yvonne would not have done it had she not wanted to. Herb's record album is quite a surprise; we just have to get the record player now. There may be a mix-up in address. I'll write to the K-C. Post Office and see what can be done.

Well, this is quite a long letter, but I just felt like writing to you. Furthermore, tomorrow I'll have K.P. and therefore little time to write. I'll go to bed now and try to fall asleep before I get too lonesome.

Love,

Tom.

Opa has had a long trip and a mindless day of assimilation to think about what he's embarking on. He's reeling from the rumors of six weeks of basic followed by three months of special training with no room for furlough. This is not the beginning of marriage that he had envisioned, and he hoped that even in the Army he'd have a little more stability. He's learned already that Army life is unpredictable. Everything is working out OK, but it's different from what he had imagined. He misses Grandmother, and the distance stretches further now, both geographical and time.

Opa's description of his hope for their future home gives me such warm feelings: "Love radiating from every brick." It has been so very long since Opa has had a home at all, especially one that he can store his suitcase and boxes without needing them always available. Grandmother and Opa are hungry to settle down, set some roots, be in a routine and have a family. Not even kids yet- but each other. I can only imagine the hunger for that life after so many years of uncertainty. 

The Army isn't going to give Opa his certainty just yet, but he is happy knowing at the very least, he has Grandmother for a wife, even if he's not in Kansas anymore.

October 2, 1944: Happiness and Fudge

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, October 2, 1944.

Transcription:

October 4, 1944

Dearest,

After seeing you last night, it is much easier to leave; also, the fact that I know at least approximately were I am going and what I am to do, simplifies matters considerably. After you left last night, I went right back to camp and to bed. The sounded taps, turned the lights on, and made us get up for breakfast. There just didn't seem to be any interval of time between taps and breakfast, except that someone must have turned the clock from eleven to five. I feel rested today, though, and was all up and ready for butt detail. (Found two matches today; that's a great improvement!)

The rest of the morning I spent waiting for the mail, for I knew your letter was in it. I appreciated that you spelled out the word "barracks" on the envelope. Your new spelling of it (with an "r" in the second syllable) looks very nice, in fact it adds to the appearance of the word and uses the alphabet more evenly. Why don't you write to Webster about it and have the dictionary altered to conform with your new theories?

Mac and Don got their shipping orders too, both are leaving tonight, i.e. before I do, so I will be the last of the Mohicans. 

I hope you got that train last night; my guess is that you even had to wait before it left, but maybe not. Anyhow, it was nice to have had that extra hour together. Did you get many mosquito bites? Of all the parts of my body that were exposed, only my right hand rated a bite; if I had been a mosquito, I certainly would not have missed a chance like that. How is your cold? If you catch something like pneumonia or suchlike, I should never forgive myself.

Mac just came in, beaming all over his round face. He will leave this afternoon at 3:30. Also, he got a package of fudge, so now we are all filling and overfilling our after-dinner stomachs with sweets. By the way, both Mac and Don say they liked you very much. Yeah, I'm awfully proud of my wife. I hope I can show her off a little more frequently before long.

The next letter will be from Camp X. (You aren't supposed to know that X marks the spot Crowder.)

Love,

Tom.

Opa is buoyed by a weekend with Grandmother and some certainty in his Army life. He is shipping out to Camp Crowder very soon; his group of friends all separated out. 

Opa has a sense of purpose, renewed by his time with Grandmother and fostered by his camaraderie with his recently-made friends. Any friend that shares fudge is a winner in my eyes.

Opa's heading for Camp Crowder, Missouri, which is still not too far from Grandmother (though it is further). Life is happening, and Opa is ready for it. 

What's in store for Opa? I'm guessing basic training (boot camp). Something tell me he's gonna do great, because if there's one thing I've learned about Opa in these letters, it's that he rises to the challenge every time with a ridiculous amount of optimism and confidence. I didn't think I had that trait, but the more I look back at what I've been through and accomplished, the more I realize that I've been brave, confident, and resilient in my own way.

September 27 & 28 & 30, 1944: Missing You

 

Postcard from Opa to Grandmother, September 27, 1944.

Transcription: 

(Image: "First Call" by Marshall Davis, sketch of a disheveled man waking up, half out of bed, sleepy eyes.)

9/27/44

Dearest,

No time for a letter, for I am on duty. Chances are I shall remain here for at least another day or two. I'll call you if any sudden change occurs. Chin up, I hope to be seeing you soon.

Love, Tom

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, September 28, 1944.

Transcription:

Sept. 28, 1944

My darling wife,

After a busy day and some anxious minutes, this rainy forenoon seems like a rest to me. About 80% of our bunch for their shipping orders last night and are leaving this afternoon, but my name was not among them. Fred, however, will be leaving with this group. We were a little disappointed that the three of us are split up like this, but that's the way the Army works.

Two hours later. Another bunch just received orders, but I didn't. I wished I knew what is going to happen; this uncertainty is no fun.

Got your letter today, a well as Miss Derby's and Eilleen's. I had one from Eileen two, but I'll save it for Sunday, when I'll give you a whole bunch of letters. 

Yesterday was a busy day. Three of us had to scrub the whole barrack, clean all windows, and polish all brass. In between, we were called out twice for what is commonly called "butt detail," and consists of walking over the camp with a sack in your hand and pick up all cigarette snipes, matches, papers, etc. Not much fun, but not exactly hard work. Ordinarily, there is a large group of us doing this, and we get a lot of visiting done in the process.

It's too bad about the theft in your rooms and I hope you will be able to get things back. I hope you can do this without suing anybody; there may be a chance if you kids get together and send a lawyer to the contractor and have that lawyer present a list of all the articles which you know have been stolen. The threat of suing might possibly have effect. If it doesn't, I would sue then, though.

I discovered something helpful today. As "latrine orderly," I am acting non-com and can detail any man in my barrack who has no other detail, to do work in the latrine; so, today, I got me three men to clean toilet bowls, urinals, and do the rest of the dirty work. Unfortunately, this made me get through so early that the sergeant gave me other jobs.

This letter has been interrupted again. It's time for the mail now, so I'll quit. Maybe there will be time tonight to write some more.

Love,

Tom.

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, September 30, 1944.

Transcription:

Sept. 30, 1944

Dearest,

There isn't much to say now, for I want to keep it for Sunday. Oh, darling, I was so happy when I found out we won't be shipped this week. Then, after calling you, I became really excited. It was the first time that we really talked and visited on a long-distance call without having too much business to talk about, and it meant so much.

Tonight, some K.C. girls and a band gave a stage show here. It was good anyhow, but my good mood made me enjoy it even more.

Probably, you won't get this letter till Monday, so there is no use of my telling you about the interview I had or anything like that; it is just so you hear it from me. 

Bye, darling, till day after tomorrow. We'll have a grand time together!

Love, 

Tom.

The message of all these letters is simple: Opa misses Grandmother. He is SO thrilled to finally get to see her, and all the uncertainty of folks getting shipped out is now a distant memory. 

Opa's encouragement for Grandmother to keep her "chin up" in the first postcard tells me that Grandmother has ben expressing a similar feeling of missing Opa. This separation must have been so hard for them. At first the novelty of marriage and joining the Army was enough to keep them occupied. But now that all the business and novelty has worn off, it's officially sad to not be together.

Opa is still navigating Army life, learning tricks that aren't so tricky after all (delegating and then getting more jobs). Grandmother's room was robbed, it seems by some fault of a contracting company. Opa seems quick to litigation, I wonder if this was more common (or simple) then, or if that was just him. Now we talk about how we live in such a litigious society, but honestly, as far as my experience, few people actually follow through because legal fees and courts are so expensive and time consuming. It's like insurance: there's a hidden deductible in our minds of how much is worth trying to win back.

I hope Opa and Grandmother have a lovely weekend together, and that we get to hear a little bit about it in the next letter. We'll see!