Pvt. W.D. Johnson Jr. 34945847
G Co. 26th. Inf.
Apo # 1 c/o P.M.
New York N.Y.
March 29, 1945
Germany
Dearest Mom & Dad,
Your letters are coming in fine these days. They are pretty good about getting mail up to us even right up to the front so when mail comes in to regiment we get it as soon as anything can reach us. Most often the jeep that gets thru to us with C Rations or communication will bring up mail.
Mom, I can never tell you what your letters mean to me. There’s something solid about them that nails my feet to firm ground. I look forward to them eagerly and always read them more than once. I’ve been getting the McLemore cuttings and enjoying them.
I just wrote Louise and after finishing realize that I didn’t talk about all I intended. Tell her I said that – it’s hard to do a job of writing in limited time but I do appreciate and enjoy all you all say in letters and don’t anyone be hurt by my failure to comment on each item because I devour each news item hungrily. Dad, it’s about time to celebrate our annual dual birthday party – yours and Julie’s. I wish I could be with you or at least send you something. This will arrive late, but the good wishes will be in no way impaired by the delay. Happy birthday Dad, and Happy birthday sweet little Julie. When I wrote Louise today I forgot to mention Julie’s b’day altho I had done so previously. Tell Julie I again thought of her.
In my letter to Louise today I told her about being made 2nd in command in my squad. Get her to tell you about it so I’ll be spared the repetition here. There’s nothing much to it.
I’ve had swell letters from Macey and Rip lately. Both are fine. Macey as you probably know is with the 4th Armored Division which is spearheading Pattons magnificent drive. Being in ack ack Macey is probably not right up front so don’t worry. He was surely lucky. Ole Rip seems fine too. They’re fine boys!
I’m surely getting an all expense tour of Europe! I must have guessed how many million beans were in the jar! Surely I did something unusual to be picked for a free cross country jaunt like this! It’s fine except that they furnish everything but transportation. As I dreamed of seeing Europe in the past I never contemplated walking across it. Ho! for life in the infantry.
Germany could win the war in a short time if they were proper students of G.I. psychology! Don’t tell a soul, but it is true. They are dwelling under the misapprehension that the G.I. can be intimidated by screaming rockets and machine guns and artillery. Never! But just let them poison the food left behind and we’d all be goners. Picture a hard won town. We have just run the Jerries (that could still run) out. The rest are sprawled in grotesque poses about the streets and bldgs, but with all toes generally pointing in the same direction – up. Knowing that the remnants of their force have been captured or driven out, the Jerries start throwing in rockets and artillery.
Does the G.I. sit and contemplate the miserable shambles or cringe at the screaming rockets? Not exactly, because, you see he’s always hungry. Across the street is a heap of masonry. An olive drab fanny sticks up as a determined G.I. crawls into the ruins, his nose leading him to the site of the erstwhile pantry. He knows that the German housewife is a past master at preserving cherries, plums, apples, berries and honey. He roots and grunts and presently emerges triumphantly with a plaster covered jar of cherries. The abandoned chicken houses are a source of eggs, many cellars contain cured hams and then theres the eternal black bread. Many a time I’ve seen the ham & eggs a’frying and every Joe in sight gulping canned fruit from a quart jar long before the smoke of the battle had cleared and before we were sure we wouldn’t have to withstand the ever-threatening counter attack. The other day we captured an unusually opulent Nazi’s cellar so while the city finished burning I stood in a doorway sweating out the artillery, wondering what our next move would be while I drank some very old champagne out of a tin can!
Since we found that the Germans as a rule do eat out of plates, most of us have “lost” our mess kits. It’s that much less to carry. There are so many of us and so many dishes fail to survive the artillery and the house to house fighting that very often there aren’t enough dishes to go around when they do get hot chow up to us. You should see some of the crockery that passes down the chow line! Some, I suspect have even seen service under a bed! Some are dishes of the expensive bric a brac type that have adorned the family china cabinet as show-pieces for generations. Well, honies, that’s all for now. Pray for the end of the war and may God hear all our prayers.
Love always
David