Letter # 119 November 7, 1943

Sun. morn.
Nov 7. 9:30
My beer happy wife;
Hello Sweetheart, here it is Sunday morn again, and I already have my chores done for the day. So maybe I can catch up a little on my letter writing if I don't get lazy and decide to go out.
I just finished washing my coveralls, damn this laundry anyhow. I can't see why they won't wash them for us. I found a new way of doing them that isn't so much work. The army furnishes the soap, so I cut up a whole bar in a pail, put in boiling water, suds it up good, add the fatigues, and stir a couple minutes, set the pail alongside my bed, just so no one dumps them out, and let them soak all night.
Next morning I just slush them up and down for a few minutes, rinse them in several waters and the results are surprising. They have changed from the color of dirty grease to somewhere near their original color. Lazy man's way of doing the laundry. Only one good thing about doing them myself. Once a week my hands get clean and white again. All week it looked like someone had grafted a pair of negro hands on an otherwise nearly white man. Boy I sure can get dirty twisting myself up, in and around these whirlwind engines.
I think they named these engines wrong. The mechanics have to be the whirlwinds to keep the damn things running. We spend all day getting one of them to purring on all nine, and the boys go out for 50 or 60 miles the next day and we have to start all over again. Sometimes when I hear them coming back I wonder if they didn't leave half the cylinders out in the woods someplace. I take a quick look and am surprised to see they are all there. Just have to pet and pamper and coax them for another day and they all go back to work again.
Just like some women who like a lot of petting and coaxing and then they are good for one run and you have to start all over again. Just a comparison Honey. I don't mean you. You've out grown that stage since I came to the army.
We sure do have a variety of weather down here. This morning it is cold, grey and windy. By cold, I mean about 60 degrees but it seems much colder. It's damp and raw. Even have some fire in the barracks, and it feels good. Mud ankle deep all over the place. The leaves on the non-evergreen trees have nearly all turned brown this past week. Aren't falling yet, but I guess they soon will. Seems funny in a land of no frost that they don't stay green, but I guess, even trees get tired.
The barracks are nearly deserted today. The army took a convoy on a trip to Shreveport yesterday and today and some of the rest took off on their own. About 12 or 15 of us old worn out bucks are all that is left. Nice quiet and peaceful good day for writing or sleeping or loving if I had anything to love. I am loving you by long distance. I can even almost feel you when I stop and daydream a bit. The day will come again when I won't have to dream. I'm waiting for that day and [I'm not "bird terding"] Just another army expression meaning the equivalent of "I'm not kidding."
We lost two of our crew of mechanics this week and gained a new one. The two went to Fort Knox for tank school. The lucky devils. It's my turn to say that now. I had my turn and we sure made the most of it, didn't we Chubbins?
I'll never forget those three weeks if I live to be 120 or more. We had a very nice break there, but I'm piggish. I'll take another if I get the chance.
The fellow we got had been to Knox for trucks and etc. and is now a tank mechanic so he's worse off than I am. Screwy business I'd say. Name is Baker and he's from Kansas. Young, 20 or so. Single. Pfc. Seems very nice. One of the few of us here today.
The only experienced medium tank mechanic is an older fellow. McDonald by name. T/4, lives in New York City, very quiet, but seems O.K. Haven't been able to learn much about him. He don't talk. I judge him to be my age or maybe a little older. Just as bald as I am. Don't know if he is married or not. Probably not because he seems to go out every weekend, but of course, that is no indication.
You said you didn't remember Sgt. Brown. He is the California lumberjack that was motor Sgt. in the old outfit. The one that was disappointed in love. I guess he likes to drink but not in camp. That was Max Stanisbury from Wyoming.
I don't know if the pass means much more freedom or not. This mechanic job is likely to be a 24 hour a day job. More if there is some way to put more hours in the day. I don't care anyhow. I haven't much desire to go anyplace anyhow. Just too damn old, Honey. When I'm not working I just write or sleep or read.
Leo is married and seems very well satisfied, but would much rather not be in the army. His wife is teaching in a little town just north of Lake Charles, forgot the name, and they furnish her living quarters along with it. Three teachers. They all share one house, large enough, Leo says, but rough like a cottage on the outside. They do their own cooking. That is why Leo does the driving. He says if they stayed in DeRidder, it would cost so much they couldn't make ends meet. $50.00 a mo for just a room he says.
There is a lot of talk about putting men over 30 in the service command and Leo is hoping for that. That is nearly limited service and would not be sent across. They have already taken the not physically fit of that age and made M.P.'s and etc of them. Maybe I'll be an M.P. yet whether I want to or not. I'll lie like hell if I know it's coming. We have several "old men" in this outfit and Brown, McDonald and I are the only ones that have regular jobs. The rest are just filling in and doing odd jobs or almost nothing at all. Still the same all story. Don't know where you stand.
Darling don't worry so much about my money situation. I have plenty and I told you I will holler if I need any. Now please forget it. If you keep me too well supplied I might be tempted to start going out with some of these wild women. So there too.
Angie is in an outfit of mechanized infantry someplace in Polk and Grafton is in the 710 Tank Bn. I haven't located the others yet. When I get them all located I'll have to go visiting some day.
I was more than a little worried about the "pregnant wife" situation, but like you it was fun and I'll do it all over again as soon as I get the opportunity.
You said I looked good, maybe, but you're the one that looked good to me. Just seems like everything is O.K. again the minute I can see you. You're good for everything that ails me sweetheart.
I don't think the belly I had started is with me anymore, all packed down from wedging it into tanks. But the weight is still with me. I weighed 190 dressed when I left and last night at the P.X. I weighed 189 in the same clothes. However, I don't expect it to stay long. They don't feed me like you do and beside that they can't keep me satisfied. Only you can do that.
We just had mail call. No letter from you but I got one from Vi, written the same night and mailed the same day, so your air mail gains a day.
Honey, I believe Vi was in worse condition than you were. Her letter was absolutely screwy, but she insisted three times in her letter that she was absolutely sober. That must have been a good party. More power to you, honey. Keep it up and have all the fun you can. You know that all I want is for you to be happy and I don't care how you do it.
Vi says Gus [Hugert] is 2B until April. You probably know this already. It doesn't hardly seem fair for the draft boards to leave him and take Gus Maitland but I don't blame Gus a bit. I almost believe if I was in the same position and know what I do now, I'd stay out as long as I could. So far I haven't done anything except waste my time and it looks like that is all it will be. Oh well, as Louise says, "What the hell." I have at least found out how much I love my wife and that should be worth something. If I hadn't left you I might never have realized it.
Well gorgeous, this letter has gone on and on and I would like to continue but it's nearly dinner time and I have several others I should write so I guess you'll have to share a little of my time with some of my friends. I don't want to write to them very bad but I guess I should so bye Sweetheart. I loves you and loves you and loves you, ever so much. I'll be all rested up again so I can really show you the next time I see you.
I'd just as soon you wouldn't scare me by acting like you're pregnant but that sure won't stop me even a little bit. I like your brand of loving too much to let anything stop me.
Bye for today "Tootsie Wuggles". I'll be loving and thinking of you all the time.
Your relieved husband
Norm.