I wanted to write some letters and do some washing. So since I didn’t get a pass they chose me as one of the guys for a special detail. We worked for two and a half hours—until lights went out. But I’m fooling them—I’m writing anyways. Four men could have done the same work in the same time that we eight did it—four guys were always standing waiting. But we all had to stay there. Now isn’t that stupid and unfair? Here I and several others had planned this evening, the only time we have to ourselves, in a certain way, and they take this time away when it isn’t even necessary. It’s really terribly unjust. And if you will remember, it is injustice in any form or manner that affects me the strongest and irks me the most. I can stand anything but injustice. That I cannot stand.
BUT—It didn’t bother me at all! That has been one of the most surprising things about army life that that I have seen. It’s so terribly unfair, and yet you don’t mind it because the army is unfair to everyone. You see unfairness so often that you become used to it. It is only humorous, nothing more—and that because it is out of place. That’s what real humor is, you know, misplacement. That’s why the New Yorker cartoons are so good. They realize that and capitalize on it.6
Received your cookies and candy today. Very good, very good. We’ll have to finish them all tomorrow because we’re moving out into the woods Thursday. No electricity, no plumbing—but swimming.
Lots of love from Carl
. . .
Once, Carl’s unit was taken to a military prison to learn how not to behave. They were shown prisoners who broke the rules. This soldier didn’t come back from leave on time. That guy got in a fight with his sergeant. That sort of stuff. The moral: You disobeyed the rules and you got tossed in the hoosegow.
Even the men who found themselves in the stockade didn’t need a lecture about why they were in the army. After Pearl Harbor it was universally accepted that we were attacked, and we are at war, and war is all-out war. The national sentiment was that there was only one thing to do and that is to defeat the enemy. Everyone hung flags and draped bunting. Parents placed a star in their window for each boy in the service. Dorothy and Leo had two stars in the window.
Everyone you talked to was for military action; Carl and everyone else were very patriotic, even the soldiers in prison—no matter if the prisoners’ purpose was only to serve as a bad example.
. . .
June 18, 1943
Dear Mom,
I’ll have to make this brief because it’s late and there’s an ugly rumor going around that we’re having a nine mile hike tomorrow.
Thanks for the stuff but you overdid it a little in places. I wanted about six nails, not six pounds; and just a little cord, not enuf to start a rug factory with. But you show the right spirit. I can hardly wait to get that fudge. I’ll expect it at least in carload lots.
Hey! Where’s my shoes? And be sure to send trees with them. Also as soon as possible send all my sweat socks. Most imp.
Didn’t you get that picture I sent you from Columbus? It cost me 10 cents. As soon as I can get to town I’ll have some good ones taken.
Just last night I saw The Ox-Bow Incident.7 I suppose it’s been to Canton a long time ago. If it hasn’t or if you missed it once, be sure to see it. I firmly believe that it is one of the few outstanding pictures of the last few years. If you did see it tell me what you think of it.
Went out in the firing range yesterday and I didn’t even get killed. By the way, don’t worry about my visiting the German prisoners. I should just try to get closer than 30 yards to the camp. We also have some Italians and a few Japs. They caught two more of the escaped prisoners, also by the way.
Don’t forget the shoes and socks.
Love Carl
. . .
To deal with prisoners of war, camps were set up across the United States. Texas held many such camps due to “available space” and because the state possessed the same climate as North Africa, significant because the Geneva Convention stipulated that any POW must be harbored in a climate that was approximate to the place of capture.
From over 150,000 of Rommel’s surrendering Afrika Korps to the tens of thousands of soldiers who gave up toward the end of the war, the United States housed up to 425,000 enemy combatants during World War II.8
. . .
June 18
Sat.
Dear Folks,
Here is what we did yesterday. Got up at 0500 (5:00 a.m. to you) which was not too unusual since we’ve been doing it every single day; Reveille at 5:15 to 5:25; Chow at 5:30 to about 5:50; then try to get washed, make your bed, clean out your barracks, prepare for inspection, put on your leggings, fill your canteen (the water is no good here and has to be medicated), and police the area in about 45 minutes. Then we march off to the training area with pack and guns, either a 1917 model Enfield or Thompson sub-machine gun. From 0700 to 1100 we have classes of 50 minutes each, separated by a two minute “wind sprint” and an eight minute rest period. The classes are on first aid and gas, mostly, so far, but we’ll be having many more different ones. We just started motor maintenance and driving, and we’ve also had military courtesy, the Articles of War (I can be put up for life for not shining my shoes—A.W. 94—Conduct Unbecoming a Soldier) and map reading. Then there is an hour of drill and formation exercising. From 1200 to 1330 we eat and have a rest period, most of which is taken up in waiting in line to get some food, waiting in line to get seconds, and waiting in line to wash your mess gear. To 1730 we have some more classes sometimes. Usually the last hour is spent in doing something a little more exerting, like yesterday we had a hike. I believe I wrote before saying how hard it was marching 3 miles in 50 minutes with a pack in 85 degree heat. Well yesterday we marched five miles in 45 minutes with a pack and a rifle in 90 degree heat! If you don’t know how fast that is, there was a guy ahead of me that was about 5’5” and his legs weren’t long enough to go that fast. He had to run about a third of the time. But the most fun of all was when we double-timed the last hundred yards. Those marches are really the only thing that I don’t like about the army. And I have a violent hatred of them. They are nothing but torture from the first step to the last and there is no deeper discouragement than to have your leg muscles paining and your shoulders rubbed sore, and come to some rough or sandy ground and realize you still have four more miles to go, but can do absolutely nothing but continue to march, and march at top speed. Then towards the end your eyes start to smart from the sweat washing through them, and you hope you won’t stumble because you’re sure you won’t be able to start up again. But the funny thing is once you’re back and you put down your pack and gun, the relief takes all the tiredness away and you don’t throw yourself down on your bunk as you so ardently desired out on the hike. You lay down for two or three minutes, drink a quart and a half of water, usually, and start joking about the hike. Yesterday we got a big laugh out of the company commander riding past in a jeep saying “all right, men; close it up.” That is we got a laugh out of that back in the barracks; it wasn’t very funny while it happened.
However, we are very fortunate in our company officers. All we have is eight second lieutenants. One of them will be a captain soon and several will be first lieuts. They are all excellent men, and the older soldiers who were transferred from some other branch all say so too.
I did start to tell you the daily schedule, so I’d better continue it; when we get back to the barracks we have chow,
