Home Front to Battlefront. Frank Lavin

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СКАЧАТЬ the cleanest way of getting from Waco to Dallas. I have never heard of anyone yet that took along a change of clothes on a weekend pass. I showered and washed several times at the U.S.O. so don’t worry about my being clean. My manners were exemplary. My God, woman, stop worrying! I’ll admit that I did commit one or two social faux pas in my first year at dance class. But since then I have made a few improvements. I think the last time you saw me on a date was when you drove me. Try to remember that I am not a kid anymore. That old maternal instinct wants to remember me as one, but it’s wrong. I will not be treated as a kid anymore. I am capable of handling my own affairs and forming my own opinions and judgments and I intend to do so.

      Anyways, that date was a perfect one. She picked me up in her car at the U.S.O. and we went to the Plantations Club, the best night club in Dallas. An open air one, with a full moon and a good orchestra. She is a perfect dancer, wonderful conversationalist, good looking, etc. So all in all I had a perfect time.

      Could you send me some caramels or some salt water taffy? Or some nuts? Just giving suggestions. How about sending me some lollypops—no kidding. There are six of us here who like them, in spite of the fact that we’re big, husky, fearless T.D.s.

      Well, s’all for now. Take it easy. I still love you - Carl

      . . .

      August 25, 1943

      Sunday

      Dear Mother,

      I just went over your letter again and I realize that there were a few things I left out of mine.

      I got entirely rid of my poison ivy about two weeks after I got it. I still haven’t had my picture taken—and I don’t know how or when I can get one. We’re supposed to have a company picture taken pretty soon. So I’ll send you a copy and you can see both what I and my environment look like. O.K.?

      I won’t say anything more about what you said concerning my not knowing how to act. But I did become annoyed all over again by just rereading it. My God, Mom!

      The other A.S.T.P. interviews come at the S.T.A.R. center. I don’t believe I mentioned that.

      That’s good news about Fred. I guess he really decided to work. I should talk.

      Love Carl

      P.S. I’m hungry.

      . . .

      August 27, 1943

      Wednesday

      Dear Mom,

      I’m on guard duty right now, and it has come at rather an opportune time. Yesterday we had that twenty four hour problem I told you about and, since we went on guard at 18:30, we didn’t have to go and got the whole day off. Proof that there’s good in everything.

      You’d better not expect much mail from me in the next week and a half as I doubt that I’ll have much opportunity to write any. It finishes our basic and we’re going to pretty damn busy. I’ll let you know just as soon as I hear anything, though. I’ve noticed in quite a few of the magazines lately that they’ve shown the M-7 Assault Gun, nicknamed “the Priest,” as a Tank Destroyer. It has an 105mm howitzer mounted on it and the T.D.s use only flat trajectory weapons, mainly the 75mm and the three inch. Just thought I’d clear it up for the record.

      How has the heat been in Canton lately? Those very hot days here all over with, I hope. It only gets up to around 105 now instead of 115. There might not seem to be much difference between 105 and 115, but believe me, there is.

      I read in the Sunday Rep about that tornado you had. Why didn’t you say anything about it? According to the paper the path of the storm was just about directly over the plant. Was there any damage done to it?

      From all the trouble Spitzy seems to be having I guess that old age is really leaping up on her. Tsk, tsk.

      We are out at McCannon Dam right now—about fifty miles from camp and where we will remain until Saturday. This is a sort of half-vacation for us. We just got done with two hours of swimming in the Colorado River—about three miles wide here, and blue and wonderful after three months of dust. The scenery around here is rocky like Canada, only more so. More like the movie Texas.

      So—let me know how things are going on at home.

      Love and kisses Carl

      . . .

      Tuesday 9/1/43

      Dear Mommy,

      Remember that hike I was telling you about? Well, we’re having it. They were sweet enough to cut it down to 45 miles, which we are taking in easy stages. Today we hiked about 15 miles—or rather this morning we did. This afternoon we’re resting up.

      However, they’ve got me down here at the battalion Command Post as a runner and in that capacity I’ve gone another three miles so far.

      But this is really more of a vacation to us than work. We only work four or five hours a day and have the rest of the time free. Of course whenever I mention free time, you’ve got to subtract 1/4 to 1/3 of it for details.

      Tsk, tsk—where did you ever get such a metaphor: “. . . when your mother flutters around her chicks like a wet hen.” Sounds like something from the New Yorker.

      That good news you were waiting for hasn’t shown up yet. But don’t worry, there are about 30 or 40 men in the battalion who are trying to get in so I don’t think they’ll forget about us. The army always takes two or three weeks longer than is necessary in things like this. It didn’t take me three and a half months to learn that.

      The STAR unit is a sort of induction center for the ASTP and works the same as the induction center.

      How are you getting along with the new gas rationing? Has it curtailed your Jewish Center Activities any? Are you taking good care of the Chevy for me?

      I just got a letter from Fred. He seems to be pretty happy and getting along well. He wrote me all about his campus life and he’s happy about the whole thing.

      By the tone of your letter you seemed to be rather happy too. I hope you stay that way.

      I suppose that there’s a slight possibility that I might get a furlough before A.S.T.P. but don’t count on it at all. I’m not.

      Still happy and healthy.

      Load of love Carl

      . . .

      September 7, 1943

      Dear Mother,

      After that hike we were supposed to move right into the barracks at Camp Hood, but the battalion that was supposed to move out to give us room couldn’t get transportation. So we have been living in our pup tents like babes in the wilderness for over a week thus far. It’s rained five out of the last six nights, mostly combined with a 20 to 30 mile wind, which was not too conducive to drowsiness.

      . . .

      Thurs Sept 9’43

      Had to cut short this because I was called out for a dramatic turn. I was one of 15 men from СКАЧАТЬ