Sept. 23, 1942 - Dear "Moitle"
I could be so much worse off.
Please say "Moitle" with the proper accent. It's either a silly name or reference to a B-17 42-39821 / Hey Moitle 570th Bomb Squadron. Or was it in a movie? I'll bet it's just silly. Too tired from football and working crazy late shifts. Next pass is coming up so less than a week until he sees her again. He knows he's lucky. So let's figure out the logistics. And his washing. Can you get over laundry in a bucket? It's not for everyone. If a lad is "over the hill", they'll cover you for a night or so but after that, it's trouble. Anyway, he'll know more about his pass after Sunday. Stay tuned.
Original Letter
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!
September 23, 1942
Bat H - 9th C.A., Fort Ruckman
Dear “Moitle”:
I’ve been playing football and I am very tired. That is a hard game. I can feel the muscles in my legs stiffening up already and I probably won’t have my breath back until tomorrow morning. Whenever I get into a game like that I forget myself and play too hard and don’t know when to quit. I will be so lame tomorrow, I won’t want to get out of bed. I would love to have you rub my back when I go to bed but this is no go. In fact, I would just love to have you here but that is like wishing for the cheese on the moon. I’ll have to dream of you. I do that anyway and it is driving me crazy. To be married to such a wonderful girl and then not be able to be with her or even see her is the limit. Some fellows are so lucky that if they fell into the water, they would come out with their pockets full of fish but if it was me, I wouldn’t even get out or if I did it would be with a old rubber boot and a rusty tin can. I suppose right now I should think that I am fortunate to come out with something. I could be so much worse off. At least I see you once a month while so many other guys will never see their better halves again. I suppose this is the thought that keeps us going. That and the next pass when I will be seeing you.
When the time begins to roll around for my pass, I am like a dumb thick-headed Irishman. All I can think of is seeing you and I rush around madly trying to do five things at once so that I might gain a little time and get to see you earlier. Right now I have less than a week to wait to see you and that is almost too long. I have had the office O.K. the three-day pass and now all I have to do is arrange the schedule over where I work and this might prove difficult. With a man from there going on fourlough tomorrow night, it is going to leave us short-handed and if I go out for three days and someone else goes on a 24 hour pass it will complicate things. But don’t worry. I hope they will send over another man and if they don’t, I probably can arrange something. Have you decided whether to come up the 29th or 30th? On the 29th my shift is from twelve to four o’clock and if you are over in Natick or Boston that night, that might be reason enough for me to sneak out of here and spend the night with you. Once again I might be able to arrange something. (I’m taking a lot for granted and also assuming that I am a great arranger. Maybe I should put a couple of “ifs” in there). If I get the three-day I won’t make you play golf with me. I don’t think you enjoyed yourself too much last Sat. The course was too crowded to have any fun and when there is someone behind me it always makes me mad.
I felt like throwing a club at some of those parties who were out there playing. All they were interested in was their own game and score and anyone else on the course should have stood in bed. If I seemed to be mad or impatient, it wasn’t because of you but because of these things and then also the worse my own game, the more disgusted I became. But I enjoyed myself with you and I always do. I get a big kick out of sitting back with a glass of beer and the newspaper while you get dinner. You are much too sweet and nice to me. It’s just as I said it would be this morning. I overslept and I had to drag myself over here to work. Boy am I lame and stiff. I had trouble putting my dog tags on and lacing my shoes. It is too bad and I think it is a real shame that a nice girl like you is married to an old man like me. I didn’t have time to finish this last night so I’m adding a little to it now. I can’t write very much because I am a half page over the limit now and if I’m not careful you will be setting two pages as the limit. On the other hand I don’t want you to think that I am losing my grip because I always be the boss in my family and if you think…..
To change the subject, my washing has got beyond the three pairs of socks and three sets of underwear stage and is such that I hesitate to tackle it. I’ve had them soaking in a bucket for over a day now and I guess I will have to clean it up this afternoon. The other lad who teams up with me didn’t show up for work last night or this morning and so they turned his name into the office and he is “over the hill”. We covered him up last night but can’t be expected to do so indefinitely so he will be in plenty of trouble when he comes back. I can understand being gone for a few hours but for day after day is beyond me. What can a fellow like that be thinking of or what goes on inside his head is too much for me. His going off like that doesn’t do my chances for a three-day pass any good. I probably won’t be sure of anything until after Sunday. Well darling, I am counting the hours until I will see you again. I hope I will have three wonderful days with you. You are my girl and I love you so much.
With lots of love
From Harry
War Updates
The Lynn Daily Evening Item
Maybe the first women garbage collectors. Sisters jumping in to help their brother keep his trash route. And another bond rally.
Meanwhile in Hartford...
That parachute scare from yesterday continues as the FBI investigates for the most serious crimes of the times - espionage and enemy spying.
The Women's Page for Mom
There is no such thing as a "dream husband" - thanks Dorothy Dix. Wartime designs works with the latest in design restricted by rationing and shortages. Hope you like pickles!
Next letter tomorrow, September 24, 1942
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