January 29 and January 31, 1944

January 29, 1944 Saturday evening

Good evening, my love -- Life has got me astounded again tonite. It does that every now and then. Sometimes for good things, sometimes for bad, sometimes for nothing at all but the surprising turns that events take. All I can do is sit back and say "what a rat race" or some thing else that doesn't mean anything. It just fills you with wonder at the world.
 
Today things haven't been at all bad for  me, but I've bee "astounded," as above, by one thing after another. I did fail to qualify as a machine gunner, but only 8 men in the platoon did qualify. So it won't count against me, I guess, but what raised my temperature was the fact that I am a good enough shot to be the only machine gun expert here. I just goofed off good at the wrong time. You fire two target groups with a machine gun. I was feeling great and was shooting along in great style for half the group. Then I simply forgot to change my sight setting at a change in range. Consequently the last half of the target only had a few scattered shots in the bull. I knew that ruined me as far as total score went, but I shot as I should on my second group and got the highest score of the day on one group. I know I could have done as well as the first group if I'd been on the ball. Oh well, just lost a chance to look good, that's all.
 
We had another of our other-worldly inspections today -- for which I was preparing last night (result: no letter). Guess what? I didn't get a gig, and haven't in over a week. And the inspection today was so tough that only about 10 men are not restricted, to say nothing of not gigged. That is another thing that astounded me, and made me very worried over some of our boys. Lt. Shalala is very unreasonable, I fear. On four men's rifles he claimed to find a speck of rust, and he said he would send these men before the board Monday. It sounds fantastic, but he usually does just what he says. The trouble is Tom O'Donnell is one of these men. This better not be as serious as it sounds. Men who are "boarded: are usually on the way out. Here's hoping for the best.

I am staying in to walk guard tonite, for one hour, but I am surrounded by sad, sad men who are restricted as I have often been. Burton, a Colorado man, is about as low as a man can be. He was one of the "rusty" rifles -- the word rust has an exceedingly wide meaning here -- and has a wife in Louisville. Restriction is a major punishment for him, while it only annoys me.

 
Today we started our course in Teacher Training. We have a civilian teacher, and I see that we are going to get a rubber stamp method of teaching that I may have to unlearn in the future. I shall busily try to pick the good points they no doubt have, from the stilted method I know they will teach. We are all thru with communications now.
 
For the first three days of next week, I am going to be our platoon leader. My first big job. It shouldn't be too tough, tho.
 
It is Sunday now. I'm doubling up on this week-end letter, since it will go out at the same time as if I sent two. Guard was uneventful last night. Today I slept oh, so luxuriously until 10:30. Went to the post library and read a little psych. just to feel at home. Then I went to a movie with Austin and Ray Bowles. "A Guy Named Joe" and a good picture. Well worth seeing.
 
Got your Wednesday letter yesterday wand was glad to read it, Hon. Not because of the content, but because you told me your troubles. That's good. Don't want all the troubles to go from me to you. I can imagine how exasperating your children can become, and am very much in favor of old fashioned discipline when they deliberately fail to cooperate. The teacher must always control the situation, and should take any steps necessary to do so. The less antagonistic, the more cooperative, the method the better, of course. But at all events get tough if you have to.
 
Hope the situation over Pearl has cleared up O.K. Sounds from here like a good situation for a long private talk with the aim of gaining good rapport and maybe getting her to cooperate "in order to help other children." If the parents interfere, a lot of soft soap until you got what YOU want would be in order. In my baker days I found soft soap very effective with the typical parent. Both children and parents are more easily out-maneuvered if you don't show that you are angry or working against them. In case of "court-martial" you can tell them to fly a kite and get a job in Louisville or someplace. Which would be very  nice. Don't worry about it, anyway, Bun. Just another teaching problem to be handled unemotionally. Let me know all about it.

By the way, when we get to Tibet, I still think you could ski on snow and that we could call on the Llama as well as ride on one. But those are no doubt problems that will settle themselves when we get there. In the meantime, feel sure that I feel like the roof of top-less house you compare yourself to. Do what you can to round out your routine until we are together. Being together is the only real cure for both of us, but until then do whatever seems to relieve the tension of being apart, rather than just "sweating it out." Silly as it is, I find that treating myself to candy bars or cokes makes me feel as tho I had had a break. I say "what can I do that will give me some fun?" There's nothing to do, really, so I say "well let's go to the P.X. and see what looks good." So I run over and carefully pick out the best 4 cent candy bar I can see, and eat it slowly, seeing how it's made and reading the wrapper and comparing it to other bars. Then I come back feeling as tho I had had some time to myself. Elapsed time: 10 minutes. When you feel low, do yourself a favor. It helps.
 
Now I have to go and study for a machine gun exam. I do love you, Honey, more than all the world and I always will. I think of you all the time, at least subconsciously, and fell as if we were pretty much the same person even if we are apart. We just fit, Bunny.
 
Always yours,
Wallace



January 31, 1944 Monday

Dear Honey,

 
Last day of January, payday, first day of our sixth week at O.C.S. I'm still here, which is something and can't yet see definitely what can toss me out. Hope things continue to hold together as well thru February.
 
Your birch bark letter came thru today. Very unique stationery, I must say. Real serviceable tho. Was very glad to hear that the incident over Pearl blew over so nicely. Must have been a relief to you. Glad you got in to the Speaks concert, too. Must have been fun and a break in the routine of Westmoreland. How is Grammie? Cheerful, I hope. I intend to write her sometime but it's one of those things that just go slipping by. I haven't written home yet this week. I usually do on Sunday, but things closed in on me before I got around to it. Ma likes to get a letter, too, I think, so I'll send it as soon as I can.
 
Today I acted as Section Marcher for our section -- which means I was top man for about half the day. During military law and drill to be exact. The Company Commander left, so I took over his job, since the platoon leader is next in line. It is great fun to be official, and everything went smoothly. Went over an obstacle course a couple of times. It was an easy one, I thought. Then we double-timed way around the enormous parade ground I have told you about.
 
Did I mention that I have moved from the 4th squad to the 1st? Well, I have. And today I moved my stuff down into the first squad room. This will bring me in with a new bunk-mate named Braley and put me in a new bunch of fellows to some extent. Not a radical change, tho.
 
Nite now, Honey. It's almost bed-time and it won't be long before we'll be dreaming together as usual. I love you and miss you very, very much.
 
Yours forever, Bun,
Wallace