April 2, 1942 - Dear Audrey
What a bunch of hot apples!
This is the first letter Dad will write to Audrey as a draftee. He has made it to Fort Devens near Ayers, Massachusetts and he has some thoughts about the cattle herding process he endures. Relating it to Gypsy Rose Lee is unique. Bottom line: “we are in the Army and it’s a great place and that we are in good hands”. He does admit at the railroad station how hard it was to leave. It's a strange new world. And somehow, I don't think this will be the last time he's awaken rudely at 4:30am. Also, why is he asking about Vicky, Mom’s sister. Vicky is dating Dad’s best friend Tony who has recently enlisted or drafted. Based on the tone of the letter, he has to be joking but I’d love to ask mom what she thought. I’d love to ask dad what the heck kind of drama is this and what the heck he was thinking. I was not expecting a soap opera. And by the way, I'm really glad he didn't tear this letter up.
...at the onset of World War II, Fort Devens was designated a reception center for all men in New England who would serve one year as draftees. For more on Fort Devens, Massachusetts click the link:
April 2, 1942 - Original letter
Transcript follows:
Boston Globe - April 2nd,1942
Did your mom or grandma have a grease can where they saved all types of cooking grease? My mom did and I never understood why until I started this research. It was a habit that started back in 1942. The military needed explosives and for that, they needed glycerin. To make glycerin you need to make soap and for that, you need grease. Yep, we beat the Nazis with bacon! People saved grease and turned it in almost anywhere for 4 or 5 cents a pound. That’s a lot of fried food.
Transcript
April 2, 1942, Fort Devens
Dear Audrey,
By this time, I’m quite the soldier. They’ve issued me more stuff and I don’t know what half of it is for. I’ve changed my clothes more times in the last two days than Gypsy Rose Lee ever did. I wouldn’t say it is as bad as everyone says the Marines are, but they don’t give us any breaks. They have just given us the afternoon off (it’s three o’clock) but we can’t leave the barracks. What a bunch of hot apples.
They keep telling us we are in the Army now. They also tell us to send all our clothes home to-nite because we won’t get another chance to. Evidently, we won’t be here long. (By the time you get this letter I'll have either talked to or tried to on the phone and so I think I'll tear this letter up) I really didn't mean to be mean to you at the railroad station Wed. but if I hadn’t I would’ve been crying on your shoulder.
Another day of this cattle herding (and that’s what it is) and I’ll really miss you. So far they have herded us here and there so fast that I’ve ceased functioning as an individual. But even if they haven’t given me a chance to miss you, I still love you very much.
I’m wondering if you arrived at the trailer camp all right? How’s Vicky? Please give her any of the love that I’m sending you that might be left over. All right? They won’t allow us to give any address because we have no permanent address as yet. Which is another indication that we will be moving some place very soon. They also won’t allow us to divulge any information. What we are supposed to say in our letters is that “we are in the Army and it’s a great place and that we are in good hands” and a lot more of the same stuff. And I can see where it would be for some fellows but for me… well I’m doing my best.
It is an amazing place too. The way they outfitted 200 men this morning was truly amazing. They did it in less than 2 hours and they were fully clothed and had plenty of extras to boot. The uniforms they put on your husband is pretty natty and a surprisingly good fit. By the way I wasn’t feeling too good last night. How are you feeling? (and I’m crossing my fingers when I ask this)
They kept us on the go until 11 o’clock last night and then when we did locate a place to sleep, I was so sick I didn’t sleep much. The fact that I was sick isn’t important but the thing I’m leading up to is this. They came in at 4:30 o’clock and woke us up. Can you imagine that? I can’t get over it. And walk… all we do is walk from one place to another and I’ve walked more than I ever did. And we haven’t done any marching as yet.
Ah! oh! now we have to fall out again – no afternoon off at all. Lots of Love – Joe
Just a reminder, this is the trailer they live in. You can't see much of it but it looks um..., um..., cozy?
Next letter tomorrow, April 3rd, 1942
Comments Welcome :)
