Spitball Army

I’ve been sitting here about 15 minutes trying to think of something to write. As you can see, I finally decided to start writting and then do the thinking. Do you suppose that will work?

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I got the box with the canned goods yesterday. Boy — that pineapple sure was good. Didn’t last long though.

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I received your Christmas card. It was a little late but the tardiness didn’t change any of the words of the meaning. It was a swell card, Sweetheart.

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I received 2 from you yesterday and was I ever glad to get them. I almost missed chow last night trying to finish them.

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I’m going to try to write this letter as you write yours to me. In other words, I’m laying on my sack.

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One group of fellows are singing everything they can think of as loud as they can sing. Another group are singing slow, sweet songs as they should be sung. One of the guys has a harmonica.

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[Written to Alice in Frankfort, Indiana. Return addressed: Richard, Co. G, 2nd Bn., 1st Mar., c/o F.P.O., San Francisco, Calif. No postmark. Unshrunken V-mail stamped on front, “Passed by Naval Censor,” and initialed by the Censor.] [This letter previously appeared on spitballarmy.com on 25 December 2009.]

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This is the day…Christmas Day 1944. My first Christmas out of Indiana and our first Christmas – you in Indiana and me thousands of miles away.

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I’m afraid I disagree with you on something you said in your last letter. Who cares whether your sentences are grammatically correct. Just so they are there.

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I received two very nice letters from my wife today. You should read them. On second thought, maybe you wouldn’t enjoy them as much as I did.

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