October 8, 1944 (to Marion Sneen)

October 8, 1944

Sunday

Dear Marion –

I’m goin’ to try to write-cha in between shivers tonite – for some reason it’s cold as the deuce. I’m sitting here in my little “Hotel De La Tent” with a short coat on over a field jacket and I’m still cold. “Wish you were here, Marion!” Maybe you could do something to help the situation, eh?

Just thought I’d mention it – your last two letters were dated Sept. 14 & Sept. 26 respectively. That’s exactly 17,280 minutes in between letters – don’t tell me you were busy all that time!

Gosh, have I been a lazy-good-for-nothin’ today. Got up at 6:30 this morning, ate & played bridge with the boys ‘till 11:00. Then I read for an hour & went to dinner. At 13:00 I layed down to read & slept from 13:05 ‘till 16:30 when I had to get up and dress for retreat. I meant to spend my time tonite after chow in writing letters, but somehow I got my hands on a slide rule & I’ve been fussin’ with that all evening. That’s how I spend all my time – just messin’ around.

Yesterday I was on a rather rough detail – guess that’s how come I needed all that “flying-time” this afternoon. I had the job of creating an ammunition dump with a crew of 75 men. Trucks kept coming to this certain area all day long loaded down with these big artillery shells. It was our job to sort, unload, & stack all the ammo. A couple of the big ones dropped off of one of the trucks & I had to go out and retrieve them in a jeep. They were badly banged up from the fall, so I couldn’t tell how safe they were. With every bump we hit on the way back, I gave a short prayer – expected any minute to be blown into the fourth dimension. Did it blow up? Course not, silly, I’m here writing, ain’t I! Anyway the dump is built and, as a result, I’m sure the war will be over at least three days earlier. That means I’ll be home on Aug. 9, 1948 instead of Aug. 12th. Isn’t that swell!

My, my, Marion, am I surprised at you gals, going out with 3 quarts on a weekend! Tsk, tsk – you certainly are getting to be a heller. I’m going to have to take a few lessons when I get back, after this Boy Scout life I’ve been leading over here. O.K., teacher?

Well – it’s this way, Marion, I wouldn’t get mad if you fell asleep when you were out with me – riding or otherwise. But the one prerequisite is that it has to be on my shoulder. Either the right or left – doesn’t matter.

Gee, news certainly is scarce around here. The only thing of big importance that’s happened around here lately is that the Bn. gave each man an issue of three cans of Budweiser beer in celebration of the Division anniversary.

Haven’t seen Lee for a month. I planned to see him yesterday but that detail interfered. Maybe next week I’ll be able to get away.

I’m having trouble getting these last pictures developed – the chemicals are scarce. But when I do – you’ll get one or two. In the meantime I’m anxiously awaiting the ones you promised me.

It’s late and 5:30 rolls around too early, so better I should say good night. Here’s your key, Marion.

Love, Dip

P.S. Just heard W. Wilkie died from a heart failure