Author: David

Pvt. W.D. Johnson Jr. 34945847
G Co. 26th Inf.
APO # 1 c/o Postmaster
New York N.Y.

Somewhere in France
January 16, 1945

Dearest Mother & Dad

The weather is warmer today but I guess when the snow starts melting and it’s wet & sloppy we still won’t like the weather. This has been a pretty rugged winter for soldiering.

I’m not at the hospital but am in the process of getting back to my outfit. Do not try to write me at the address on the envelope but use my old address: G Co, 26th Inf and the same APO.

I’ve been feeling fine since I left the hospital and am none the worse for wear. The hardest job of readjustment is getting over being spoiled by the soft living at the hospital and getting used to being out in the weather again. But we are warmly clothed and somehow you get used to the weather and don’t mind it too much.

I got my Purple Heart medal just before I left the hospital so just mailed it home to Louise. I mean for her to let you all see it too and I’m sure she’ll bring it over.

Due to circumstances it’s been about six weeks since I’ve had any kind of mail from you all or Louise so I’m very anxious to hear how things are at home. I’m hoping that I’ll have a big batch of letters waiting for me back at the outfit so I’m anxious to get back there & collect them. They don’t usually try to send mail around after the fellows unless for some reason they aren’t coming back to the outfit. For instance, I was in 3 hospitals so you can see what a long trail it would have to follow and it wouldn’t be caught up with me yet whereas if they hold it and I’m sure they did, pending advice as to my final destination, I’ll get it much sooner in the long run.

I heard one of our boys telling a sad yarn last nite. It seems that while he was in England one of his bosom pals, who was prematurely bald by reason of a skin disease, found a wig in a shop in London. It cost $60.00 and being broke, but suddenly aware of the baldness which had afflicted him for years (and also probably unusually sensitive a/c of a few slugs of English beer) he cried on his friend’s shoulder borrowed 60.00 and promptly sent the wig home. A year has passed and the wig-buyer hasn’t paid off and my friend can’t confiscate the wig. He says he’s willing to bet that he’s the only soldier in the world who has somebody owing him $60.00 for a wig.

There’s just no end to what the G.I. will think of and to the scrapes he can get himself into. I hope that I can remember a few of the things that have happened. So many of the funniest deals involve things that censorship wouldn’t permit us to write about. When we move into new positions sometimes, you should see how American ingenuity and inventiveness come to the fore and take expression in the G.I’s never ending campaign to be as well housed, clothed, and fed as possible. And if a soldier is cold he’ll burn anything. One G.I. captured a big pile of German money. Thinking it was no good, he used it to burn to heat C ration cans in his foxhole. When it was about gone, he found out it was good.

And I’ve seen G.I’s chase every kind of edible living animal from chickens to steers. When they get lost or strayed around a battle area they’re going to get killed or caught by the Jerries anyhow so the boys hate to see them go to waste.

Well, honies, I hope all is well on the home front. It’s too bad that the people of America don’t realize what goes on over here. I don’t necessarily mean the fighting, but the war and the social and economic aspects of it. Particularly the social and moral & religious (or lack of them) picture. If America could be made to awaken and take from Hitler his example of what can be done to sway the course of the world by training the very young (only train them in a different creed) there would be some hope for further generations. I’m afraid there is no hope for this generation, but if we could instil in the children of the future a few basic things we could make a truly great Nation of America. Here’s what should be dinned into children from the time they are able to talk:

1. The moral principles of Christianity.

2. The privilege and responsibilities of being an American citizen.

If children learned and believed those things, we could save our country from the carelessness and immorality in which this and all wars have had their roots. All the rest of the “plans” and panaceas are just a bunch of hog wash. I was amazed to read that some of our American college professors came out opposing military training in the future! If they could just see this polluted, decadent cesspool that is called Europe! They should read a good Jack London story and learn what the strong wolf does to the weak wolf! Phooey!

But as Mehitabel says ” wotthehell, toujours gai!) I can’t change the world. I’d like some of your hot biscuits Mom, but don’t try to mail me any. Take care of yourselves and don’t worry about me.

Love always

David Jr.

Pvt. W.D Johnson Jr. 34945847
G Co. 26th Inf.
APO # 1 c/o Postmaster
New York N.Y.

Jan 23, 1945
Somewhere in Belgium

Dearest Mother & Dad:

When I wrote Louise yesterday I asked her to call you all & tell you she heard from me as I didn’t think I would have a chance to write again for several days. But I had a chance to write again today.

I often wonder if you all don’t swap information on my letters. Somehow repetition is distasteful for me, particularly since I usually have a certain time I can write and I write you all & Louise at the same sitting most of the time. After writing both of you, I have realized that from time to time I say something or pass out some little dot of news that I failed to mention in the other letter. So don’t either you all or Louise get your feelings hurt and just arrange to swap data (if I ever say anything worth swapping).

Needless to say, I’m disgustingly healthy and therefore on my way back for another curtain call. It’ll be a relief to be rid of this infernal rear-area hanky panky and get back on the line where you are converted over night from an anonymous bovine in the lowing herd to a man again, and where the veil is lifted from the officers’ eyes and they actually see you, and by furtive looks and gestures (unseen of course by the higher brass – or rather I should say the “book” lovers & authorities on military discipline) convey to you that they consider you a human being after all, especially if there is a dangerous patrol or some other little chore in the offing which could hardly be performed by a mere discontented cow. But I haven’t suffered too much (if any) on this trip through the mill.

After a short hitch in the army you learn that, after all, anonymity is your only hope of salvation therefrom. So I’ve caught a few details as my name came up on the roster, but aside from that I’ve just blended into my olive drab background and remained inconspicuous by doing what I was told, asking for nothing and otherwise not calling attention to myself by going A.W.O.L or engaging in fisticuffs, or otherwise endeavoring to express the unrest in the average G.I. soul to the be-brassed hierarchy.

Judging from conditions over here I have conjured up a mournful picture of want in the dear ole U.S. I can see you, Dad skulking behind a mail box on Dexter Ave waiting for some twice – blessed individual to cast aside his inch cigar butt. I can see you growl like an angry dog with a bone when Judge Jones barges into your hiding place and seeks to oust you or share it with you. You are implacable but are finally induced to let him stay when you learn he is on the trail of a cigarette butt, and there is, therefore, no real conflict in interests. By common agreement with the more dignified townspeople and the police the area in front of the liquor store is reserved for the young lady smokers of the city as the traffic there is so much thicker as to insure any modest maiden a good haul of butts with a minimum of exposure to the embarrassing but altogether needful pastime of smoke-gathering.

Here we just do without. The shortage, world-wide, is due no doubt to the baleful look on the European gamin’s face and the frosty pinch to his runny little nose when he holds out his wee hand and says with a catch in his voice, “Cigarette pour papa?” The G.I. is notoriously everything you can imagine – and big hearted along with it! Obviously the Camel or Lucky is a better commodity in trade than the flimsily printed t.p. which passes for money over here. So, the Army makes it hard for a fellow to embellish or intensify his bad habits and it may even mean that I will eventually quit smoking (which I don’t in the least suspect!).

Speaking of money, I’m enclosing a French 5 franc note worth (according to Morganthau and the other Ponzis who control the GI financial destiny in Europe) about 10 – one thin dime, but actually worth somewhere in the vicinity of 3 . Note the cute water mark in the blank space when you hold it to the light!

This French money must have been designed to facilitate the fleecing of the hapless tourist who before the war was beguiled by pretty posters into wanting to fall into one of the things that passes for a toilet (when I mount, I always expect a trap door to fly open and a pair of arms to whip out and give me a shoe shine!) or experience the full thrill of relieving the bladder in plain view of the entire French population. The money, (notes) while retaining much the same rectangular shape vary in size from the 5 franc piece to a document half the size of a newspaper. When you buy some – thing and get change for a hundred franc note, the counter looks like you’ve just finished wrapping a Christmas package and left seals stickum and all laying where you let them fall. I’ve seen a 1000 franc note as big as this notepaper opened up, and I shudder to think what I would do with a ten thousand franc note were I ever so unfortunate as to acquire one. The money is beyond the possibilities of the ordinary billfold – and I haven’t even mentioned the myriad little lead and zinc (or aluminum) coins which infest the pockets after a purchase. If I lived here I think I would carry a satchel like the ice man used to carry and I’d let my children sort it at night.

Well, folks, I hope to be back where I’ll get some letters from you an a day or so. It sure is good to hear from you, and its lonesome when I can’t get your letters. Anyhow I hope you are fine, because I am, and don’t worry about me – I’m having quite a tour at Gov’t expense and a lot of fun along with it. So just pray for the end of the war and hang onto your faith and all will be well.

God bless you both and here’s love from David Jr

Pvt. W.D Johnson Jr. 34945847
B. F. R. S.
APO 545 c/o Postmaster
New York N.Y.

Feb 11, 1945
Somewhere in Germany

Dearest Mom & Dad
When I wrote Louise a hasty note yesterday I didn’t think I would have a chance to write today. I still don’t know if I can mail this today but I’m going to write it anyhow. As I’ve said before you all will just have to swap news of me when one of you hears & the other doesn’t.

I’m sitting in a log dugout in a thick woods that’s full of trees lopped off by artillery fire, but we haven’t been catching any artillery lately. We’re just waiting for the word to move or for something to happen. In the infantry we never know anything except that we will be slugging or getting set to just as long as there is a war. The job of the infantry is just as inevitable and inescapable as your dishwashing & housework, Mom. But there’s a lot of pride in the infantry boys and altho they don’t have any glamour built up around them like the air corps & some others, they know that the jobs don’t come any tougher than the ones they get.

Mom in the past 10 days I’ve received about 5 letters from you dated from about Jan 2 to Jan 11th & one from Dad with a note from you all at the bottom dated New Years Day. None of the letters you all addressed to me at the hospital have caught up yet whereas those Louise kept sending to my address here have been coming right in. I also received notes from Macey & Rip. I wrote Rip from the hospital but he evidently didn’t get my note. I got a swell letter from Eliz Diggs enclosing a little brochure prepared by a Staunton woman in honor of her son who died over here. It’s wonderful so tell Eliz to send Macey & Rip one. I plan to write E. First chance I get and also I would like to write Mrs. Tullidge & tell her how much the booklet meant to me. (Snow is dripping between the logs overhead so don’t mind if the letter seems wept over as I’m really in fine spirit and mad as blazes at the Jerries for keeping me out in weather like this!) When you write Eliz express these sentiments to her as I may not have a chance to write her for some time.

Mom, I like to report that I didn’t receive any telegrams or any packages and I know now that I won’t. Being in the hospital, the packages were sent back and due to the large volume of packages the Army can’t afford to forward them around so they just get lost. Don’t feel badly as I got the spirit of the thing anyhow and altho I’m disappointed at not receiving them, I am not really suffering for anything. We get cigarettes & candy bars up here and there’s no way to carry much stuff with you, so its really not worth your trouble. I was sure jealous tho of all those USO Commandos who got to eat my birthday cake. What kind of a cake was it? I can just see a big fluffy coconut cake with pecans in it and icing that’s soft enuf to lick off your fingers!

I hope Macey don’t have to come over here, but he’ll probably get a kick out of it anyway. It’s a fascinating sort of misery. I Thought of the waxworks on London the other day when we came thru some woods when the worst deep snow was thawing. Dead Jerries, frozen into grotesque shapes and positions, emerged from the snow everywhere. One of them had his arm up and his leg thrown back like he was sliding into second base! You’ve read of the haughty Nazi prisoner but all we’ve captured have been sorry looking half frozen cringing critters. They really say “Kamerad” just like in the books. We throw a few grenades amongst ’em and yell “comin zee here” (I don’t know if thats German or a pidgin that they understand) and out they come. I’t great fun to take their burp guns and machine guns and wham them against a tree. Speaking of this burp gun (our nickname for it – also “paper cutter”) it sounds like a sawmill in operation – fast firing. A Jerry got on my right rear flank one time and shot at me for half an hour off & on. I was busy with stuff in front of me and this burp gun kept throwing dirt all over where I was laying. I fired a few rounds into the woods where I thought he was but the dirt kept splattering. Finally I got mad and turned around and threw about forty rounds into the woods just as fast as I could blaze the old M1. Either I hit the Jerry or he decided it was too hot there as he didn’t bother me any more. That burp gun fires so fast that you just get a cacophony of sound and its hard to spot exactly where it comes from.

I know you’ve got a million questions I haven’t answered but as long as you know I’m well and safe the rest don’t make much difference. It is a real inspiration to get things that you all say in letters and thats what you can do that can do me the most good. I haven’t gotten the frame of mind as depicted by Mauldin the cartoonist when he had the infantry soldier say “Sometimes I think I’m a fugitive from the law of averages!”so you all keep writing. And keep praying as I’m sure that yours and mine and all the other prayers are what get us thru. No man can come through this war unless God is leading him like a child by the hand. I believe that and I am at peace no matter what comes.

God bless you all David

 

Pvt. W.D. Johnson Jr. 34945847
G Co. 26th Inf.
APO # 1 c/o Postmaster
New York, N.Y.

Feb 14, 1945 7P.M.
Germany

Dearest Mother & Dad:

Today has been a nice day. the sky was clear when we got up this AM and the sun shone all day. I’m still living in my dugout but its not leaking in on me. We never know just how long these little “rest” periods will last but we are always grateful for all the time we get.

We have been getting 3 hot meals a day here. the food has been good but I’ve missed salt in most everything. I asked a cook about it and he said they ran out of salt for the time being. You know how I like to salt food, so I’ve really missed it.

Regarding our food, we get a lot of dehydrated foods and the rest are canned but we have a good variety. For b’fast today we had hot cakes, syrup, oat meal coffee and bread. For lunch we had potatoes, meat balls with catsup, sour kraut, canned pineapple & coffee. For supper we had potatoes some kind of canned hash, beets and canned tomatoes – uncooked (that’s where I wanted salt) peas and coffee. We have bread every meal. So you see we do right well when we’re not actually up on the line where our kitchen can’t get to us.

Dad I hope you had a nice trip to Chicago altho I imagine you hit cold weather.

Mom, your letters addressed to the hospital haven’t caught up to me yet whereas the letters Louise sent to my same address right along have been coming right in. It just happened to work out that way. If I hadn’t gotten back to my outfit, yours would have caught me first.

I’m still disappointed that none of my cables or Christmas boxes got thru to me, so I guess its well that the guys ate my birthday cake as it probably wouldn’t have gotten to me.

Mom, one of the fellows called my attention to the 91st Psalm and now it’s one of my favorites. I’ve been reading other psalms but just hadn’t read that one. Read it. I read my bible Louise gave me whenever I can and carry it in my pocket all the time. It’s a great comfort, believe me.

I’m anxious for news of Macey – In a way I’d love for him to get sent to my outfit, but in another way I’d rather see him hit it lucky and draw a little better assignment. In other words one of us chasing Jerries is enuf and I’d like to see him contributing a little more indirectly.

Did I tell you I had letters from Marvin and his old girl Sara? Also I’ve gotten a couple of issues of (word?) “News from Home” which I found interesting.

Dad I could make the war very interesting for you if I could tell you little facts along to tie in with what you read in the papers. But I guess even then by the time you got my letter the news would be old.

I hope by now you all have started back to writing at this address and I will start hearing from you again soon. I am fine so don’t worry about me and don’t forget that I love you and wish you both a happy Valentine’s Day.
Love always,
David Jr

 

Pvt. W.D Johnson Jr. 34945847
G. Co. 26th Inf
APO # 1 c/o Postmaster
New York  N.Y.

Feb 15th or 16th
Germany

Dearest Mother & Dad:

As I told Louise in a letter tonite I’m not even sure of the date or the day of the week. I dated the letters wrong that I wrote yesterday, I think.

Honies, I had a wonderful surprise tonite. My Christmas box from you arrived! I had long since given up hope that any of my packages would catch up with me so now I have the fresh hope that some more of them might drift in. I opened the box in the presence of my squad and we all fell to on the
nuts, stick candy and hard candy. The nuts really did hit the spot as we never get anything like nuts. I divided the gum amongst the boys and thus ended the food portion of the box. We all had a swell time eating it and all the boys said tell you all they enjoyed it. And they seemed to. And Im pleased pink with the scarf and sox. Part of the time this winter I’ve used a strip I cut off the end of a G.I. blanket for a scarf. I’ll surely enjoy the scarf and what with trench foot always a possibility I can always use some extra sox. The Army tries to keep us with changes but sometimes they fall down. I usually carry a pair or two in the inside of my helmet where no matter how wet me and my pack get, I have dry sox. Tell Grandma and Dixie that the hdkfs are most welcome. At the very moment of writing I have in my possession one dirty white(?) rag which I picked up in a town we captured and which I have been using as a handkerchief. At the time the box arrived I was not the owner of even one handkerchief! To conserve my precious rag and keeping it from using up too quickly I have fallen into that most loathsome and despicable habit of covering one nostril, honking, and aiming at the ground. Then the only duty left for the handkerchief to perform is to wipe such straggling moisture as might be clinging to my (usually) 10 day to 2 week beard.
Horrible isn’t it? P’raps I should put a preface on this letter “Do not read at mealtime”. But that’s not as bad somethings I could tell. Dad, have you ever had to go, and squatted over 2 feet of snow with fanny dragging in it and have the wind blow your breeches full of snow in the seat fore you could finish the job? And if you were also in a state of mental anguish wondering if you were far enough away from your hole for sanitary purposes and yet close enough to scramble back into it when the artillery comes lobbing in, the problem becomes more acute. So you can see that “wawer” as Mr.
Roosevelt would say it, makes a grave problem out of the most familiar bodily functions. Anyhow, folks, I couldn’t have enjoyed the package any more if it had arrived on Christmas day – and thank Grandma & Dixie for me too.

Mom, I got s sweet letter from you today dated Dec 8 and addressed to my first provincial address – as was the package. So maybe some of my other packages will turn up after all.

I read in our paper “Stars & Stripes” that there was a hurricane, or tornado rather, in Montgomery on Feb 12. I can’t help but worry some and won’t feel entirely easy till I hear from you all. I know its usually the poor people who live in the flimsy shacks who are victims of such things usually but I surely hope you all are all right. Naturally our paper didn’t have any details but it mentioned Montgomery.

Well, folks, its good to hear from you and its good to write you. Take care of yourselves and keep on praying. I’m sure its the thing to do. And write as often as you can.

Love always
David Jr