[Written to Alice in Frankfort, Indiana. Return addressed: Richard, Co. G, 2nd Bn., 1st Mar., c/o F.P.O., San Francisco, Calif. Postmarked at U.S. Navy, on 23 Jan 1945. Envelope stamped on front, “Passed by Naval Censor,” and initialed by the Censor.]
Jan. 21, 1945
It’s been quite a while since I wrote, I know; but this Marine Corps – I can’t do a thing with it. It’s all their fault. Well —- I’ve got to blame it on someone. They have kept us quite busy for the last 3 weeks. Right at the present, I am doing a very foolish thing. I’m eating crackers in bed. I’ll have to stop that, won’t I?
This is very foolish weather. It’s been raining most of the day. The crazy stuff, someone should th tell it that the sun has been out all day. Oh well, that’s just part of the standing joke around here. “Everything is all fouled up around here.” Nothing unusual – the weather just joined the Corps.
I received the mirror O.K. I wasn’t expecting anything so big or so nice, but I sure do like it. So does everybody else in the tent – darn it! I got the box with the canned goods yesterday. Boy — that pineapple sure was good. Didn’t last long though.
About the Pfc. – that happened Dec. 5. Somebody swipped stole “Sack-time.” We don’t know who, what, when, or where. He is just gone. One fellow says he thought he say saw a guy drive off with him in a truck. We sure do miss the little rascal around here.
You know what I said about the censor. Changed my mind. He’s getting to be a pretty good guy. It was funny that day. I was coming out of the mess at noon and one of the officers stopped me. He kind’a laughed and told me that he had censored my letter that morning. Then he proceeded to question him me as to who it was I didn’t like. I just laughed and told him that it wasn’t him. (It wasn’t.) I guess that satisified him. That was all that was said about it anyway.
How did you ever get your folks to play cards? That really surprised me. Do they really like the game? I’m glad to hear it. Tell them to practice up cause we’ll show them how when I get there.
Well, I can’t think of anything else to write so I guess I’ll have to give you “The Word” on a little item. You keep saying that you are “silly” then you ask if I agree. Now you know better than that. If I did think so, I wouldn’t tell you and I don’t think so. How’s that for murdering my “grammer?” You aren’t a bit silly Sweetheart. I love you. I keep dreaming and trying to decide what I’ll do after the war. There are too many “if’s.” The only thing definite is that I’m going to be with you. That’s what I dream of and long for. I want to do nothing but be with you and love you Sweetheart. I love you so much Sweetheart and all I can do about it now is tell you – tell you in writting. That helps, but it isn’t satisfactory. There is a song – “There’ll be some changes made.” Now, I’d like to find one telling me “when.” It can’t be too soon. I’m ready yesterday and more so today. What good does it do though? Just wait – wait. It has been done before. I don’t think there is anyone better and than you; and I feel that if so-and-so can do, I can to. I guess we’ll just wait – and hope. That’s all we can do. I love you Sweetheart. I can show you that better than I can tell you. I’ll show you in letters as best I can, Sweetheart.
I love you with all my heart.
“There’ll Be Some Changes Made” (1941), by Benny Goodman with Louise Tobin