August 18, 1942 - Dear Audrey

Jan Palson

18 Aug 2026 — 6 min read

Big Guns! Casemated 12-inch gun at Fort Ruckman. Source: Wikipedia

Where did I get the canoe?

We need more information about what his new job is. He's at a phone bank in a dug out with others manning the phones for something. Stay tuned, we'll find out. We believe Mom is still at Pratt and Whitney. Is she shopping because she needs a bigger size? A flowering baby? Inquiring minds want to know. G. Fox is a department store in Hartford, who wouldn't love a share of that action. I think it's sweet they share laundry tips. Papers are signed for Mom's allotment. That's going to help big time. But most important, the logistics for the next pass need to be addressed. Before he gets shipped to Jebru? Did I transcribe that correctly? Let me know.

Original Letter

Transcript follows.

Transcript

For some context, War Updates follow the transcript. It includes the front pages of The Daily Evening Item from Lynn, Massachusetts (local to Fort Ruckman) and Mom's local Connecticut paper the Hartford Courant for additional news, plus the Women's Page so you're up on the latest recipes and styles, especially hats!

Research, learn, and support this work. Go to: Newspapers.com

August 18, 1942

Bat H - 9^th C.A., Fort Ruckman

Dear Audrey:

Your letters are written at the queerest times and places. I’ve written you in an Army truck, down on the rocks, on a picnic bench while walking guard and now lately I’ve been writing in a bomb proof dug out in the middle of the night. If I were only in the Paratroops I could write you a letter while floating down to the ground. When I get to fighting over in Jebru I’ll probably be writing you with one hand (telling you how wonderful you are and how much I love you) and hacking my way through a wall of human flesh with the other and dragging my canoe behind me. Where did I get the canoe? I have it to sleep under. It is the best thing in the world to keep the rain off of you. Of course, some like these new fangled things they call barracks but they aren’t any good if they leak. The time is now exactly two-seventeen. The operator just answered it. The announcer is a man at night and during the day there are some gals with honey-coated voices. I try to imagine what they look like by this voice and the way they act but I don’t think I am very good at it. If she sounds anything like anyone I know, that is what she looks like. None of them has sounded like my wife yet. My wife is in a class all by herself. You are nice and sweet and so soft. But that reminds me. What are you doing? Trying to buy a share in G. Fox. You spent six dollars (just think of the beer I could have had with that)! This will have to cease. I can’t afford it. What do you think I’m made of _ _ money? That is the advantage of writing a letter. How easy I can bawl you out and you can’t say a word. I can rant and rave about you trying to drive me into the poorhouse and expecting me to pick the stuff off the bushes and what can you do? Nothing. Just sit back and take it. But that also can be a fault too. You can sit back and ignore all the threats and curses of not giving you any more money. After all that I will say now that I am waiting to see what you have bought. I bet you will look nice in it. How are you feeling lately? I’m worrying a little bit over you. Do you know I got three letters from you today. It was like being away for a few days and then coming home and finding all the back issues of the newspapers to catch up on your favorite serial.

I open each one in turn and enjoyed them very much. That was quite a thought you had about the babies growing like flowers. You surprised me. I’m not mad because so many of those wolves are pestering you for a date and I don’t blame them in a way. Not only is a complement to you but me also. Didn’t I pick you out and didn’t I marry you? You are the nicest girl in the world. They don’t seem to respect the fact that you are married and I don’t like that. I was talking to the Battery Clerk the other day and he seemed to think you would get your allotment next month. I also read something about it in the paper. They are going to send the allotments as soon as possible. Because the plan is so immense I can’t see you getting it much before Nov. I had to sign a six page report for you yesterday and I hope that is the end of them. I have signed quite a few already. Do you have the trouble with the laundry as I do. I washed the sun tans out and when I went to get them to iron them, I found they had been slapping against the barracks and were spotted. Well I washed them again and hung them out. Then later on my way back from shaving I noticed that they were dry so I grabbed them but forgetting that I had cut my thumb while wiping the blade of the razor. So I had to wash the blood off the pants. That’s not all either. Then last night I started to iron them and was half finished when the sirens started to blow. An alert! I had to drop everything and run like h-ll. When it was all over and I got back to the barracks the lights were out so they are still half ironed. I felt like ripping them up and making patches for my socks. I can save this weeks pass and take two days a week from this Sunday. I asked the First Sergeant today and he seemed to think it would be alright if I could make arrangements over here on these telephones and I’m pretty sure I can. That means I’ll be down Sunday and have to be back Tues night. You have Monday off, do you? The following week my pass would fall on Wed and if I saved up until then you could drive me back Sat night and your day off would be Sunday. Do you follow me? I guess that is too long to wait. I don’t see how I can wait until a week from this Sun. as it is, to see you without going another ten days. We better leave the way we have it arranged.

I do miss you very much. Shall we go down to the Polish-Am Club? I love you.

Lots of love

Leonard