December 1, 1944

12.1.1944b.jpg

November 18, 1944

So. Pacific

Dear Marion –

OK, OK, don’t say it – I know this is December 1st, but I haven’t written for so long I thought I’d better back-date it a few days. I’m sorry, Marion, really – remember what I told you a few letters back there. I said my letters might be a little bit farther between for a while – well you can’t say I’m not a man o’ my word.

I might as well quit beatin’ around the bush and tell you the real reason for my pen-absence. I’ve been living back in the hills in a little, wooden cabin for three weeks completely cut off from civilization & the army. I met a cute little French gal in town one night and we sorta cooked the deal up together. After I told her of my plans she insisted on coming along & cooking for me. Well frankly I was a little concerned over my meals way up there miles away from the nearest mess Sgt., so I was finally convinced that it was a pretty good idea. At first her mother was a little leary about her going on such a trip sans chaperone. But after I told her about my having been a Boy Scout, and how much of a gentleman I had become since those scouting days, she turned to Fifi (that was the cute little French gals name) and said “Promise to be a good girl?” Fifi said, “yes” – naturally.

img124.jpg
img125.jpg

Well anyway – to make a long & uninteresting story not so long and uninteresting, I just didn’t’ have much time for writing while we were gone. I know you’ll understand. Gee, those French certainly know how to cook!

We had a very super fine Thanksgiving meal here in camp last week. That’s one meal that the Army always prepares for in a big way. Even the G.I.s on the fighting line get turkey that meal. We had all the little additions too like cranberries, dressing, sweet potatoes, mince pie, etc. Of course I know all about this simply from heresay – at the time I was up in the hills with Fifi.

Say, Marion, thanks for that very “sweet” Christmas package. Guess I’ll wait ‘till xmas eve to light up those very extra special candles you sent. Of course the bridge pamphlets are already in use. Gosh it took me a morning and half of an afternoon to unwrap all those little “contents.” Sorry I couldn’t wait until Christmas eve.

The old mailman has certainly left me in the lurch this last week or two. I’ve had absolutely no mail at all – not even from home. Those d----d Nips must have way-layed all our mail ships. You know it’s a funny thing but a guy really gets to depend on those few written words from home. It’s the only real link to life back there where it counts. Sometimes you wonder how those GIs on the front lines manage to keep pushing on – I’m convinced that the mail is one of the big factors.

Didja hear this one? The definition of a “papoose”: consolation prize for taking a chance on a blanket. Tsk, tsk, tsk. –Best I can do for the moment.

There are four jokers playin’ bridge behind me at the moment. If their voices were pitched a few keys higher they sure would sound like a bunch of old maids at afternoon bridge club.

It’s swell to hear that Vi is taking her troubles like a real trooper. It was a mean piece of luck but after all the only thing left to do is forget. That old adage “time heals all wounds” still applies.

12.1.1944g.jpg

Say – I’ve got that bowling score memorized now. Will you quit your bragging, Marion! I’m kidding of course. I’ll never tire of hearing about your sport escapades, Marion – that’s one “love” we both have in common. Incidently, bet you’re sweating out the first good snow-fall so you can go skiing. Gee – I’d give a hundred dollars to get into a pair of Kandahar (spelling?) bindings again and throw a couple of “christies” down a Moon Valley slope.

Rumba lessons – yeah that’s something I want to brush up on when I get back too. Can’t we get together?

Guess that’ll be “thirty” for tonight. Give my love to all our friends, Marion, and keep a little yourself. G’night.

Love, Dip

12.1.1944h.jpg

December 1, 1944

So. Pacific

Dear Folks –

Just got paid today so I’m sending you a money order for a hundred smackaroos. Now, without any arguments from either of you, I want you to take only half of that amount and bank it for me. The other half I don’t want to see – that’s for your Christmas present or presents. Do with it what you will, but don’t forget to have a swell Christmas.

The fruitcake hadn’t arrived as yet, but packages are rolling in every day now so I’m expecting it at any time. In the meantime all the fellow officers are getting ‘em so we’re not exactly going hungry.

The weather here is getting pretty hot these days. And for some reason the wind seems to blow like mad every day. We’ve had some rather dusty days. We have those little whirl-pools like miniature cyclones that walk right along & pick up everything in it’s path. Yesterday one went right thru Lt. Ayres’ tent & practically upset the whole works – he had papers, sox, underwear, etc. scattered from one end to the other. He had just gotten thru arranging everything very pretty too – should have heard him yell.

Life is pretty dull these days – absolutely no news at all. Even the war seems to have slowed down. We might as well be home for all the good we’re doing on this forgotten isle. And we’ll probably be here when they march thru the burning streets of Tokio.

12.1.1944k.jpg

Was in town to see Loper again the other day, but couldn’t get to see him long. The old run-around had a date with a nurse to go dancing. Too bad I didn’t let him know I was coming maybe he could have fixed me up. Oh well – who cares! Somehow I’ve lost all ambition for dates until after V-day when I get back in Mpls. again.

Haven’t had any mail from home or anyone for a couple of weeks – must be the holiday rush.

All for now – give everyone my love – keep some yourself. And – Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Son, Dorance


Christian Olsen