Spitball Army

Transcribing correspondence from the World War II era, starting with that of Beverly Anderson, has been an ongoing, truly enjoyable experience for me, and an educational one. I have always had a fascination with history, particularly cultural history, and find the War era especially rich. “Ancient” American culture is a puzzle: discovering what was once in vogue, what customs we have retained, what practices have fallen by the wayside. I have been particularly surprised with phrases and sayings from this period, some familiar and some that might as well be in a foreign language.

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Donna Reed, iconic now as the quintessential mid-20th Century American woman, was also the epitome of the “hometown girl” to many men who served in the armed forces during World War II. Because of her exposure in the movie houses of the time, and also due to the rounds she would make regularly on the U.S.O. Canteen circuit, Ms. Reed was the recipient of hundreds of fan letters from Gobs, Flymen and Marines stationed overseas and on the home front. Her children have recently made the 341 letters to their mother – mostly handwritten – public.

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Say, one really can get a lot on these V mails when typing. I’m almost running out of material.

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I was shocked when I saw Uncle Pete but he looks better to me already, maybe I’m getting used to him. He uses his arm pretty well but it is quite stiff yet – that is in reaching his face.

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Remember the lovely pink-flowered bush we had outside of our cottage door at Mission Beach and the seeds we gathered from it? Well, I just finished planting some of them, and am anxious now to see what they will do. Wouldn’t it be grand to have Calif. flowers in Minn.?

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Are you able to collect many pictures or postcards? I can just hear your asking me, “Bunches, care if I show my ______ pictures?” Just as you always did about the Icelandic ones – you Darling.

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When I think of those months we were together, it seems that every day was a day of romance and adventure too. Marriage is an adventure, and what an exciting, beautiful one.

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This hasn’t seemed like Sunday at all, as we’ve spent the whole day working.

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Mrs. K. has been working for the U.S.O., but says she can’t make up her mind as to what she really wants to do. Said she has been nursing a finger “which the monkey tried to bite off.”

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He thought we didn’t stay half long enough, but it had taken us so long to get over there, that we had to turn practically right around again to arrive in time to get the roast on. I fixed the dinner last night for the kids – having roast, onions, carrots, date-celery-orange salad, and strawberry pie for dessert.

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