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I Can Imagine Being Home

Posted by on June 3, 2016

August 5 and 7, 1944. Dad writes two letters home from Topeka. He mentions that he had the day before off and went golfing in the morning, getting back to camp before the temperature hit a high of 102 for the day.  As he is writing the letter, it is late in the evening (“around 11 PM”) and he is struggling to find things to write about.   

He writes that he will “have a furlough coming up next month.” He goes on to detail “a new ruling regarding furloughs” that allows for either two 7 day furloughs or one 15 day furlough. With each furlough he would get four travel days. As far as how Dad approaches it, he writes, “If I take a 15 day furlough now, I won’t get another until next year or unless I get transferred from the Second Air Force. If I do get a furlough, I plan on taking all 15 days at one time because maybe I won’t be here long. …I know I’m dong he right thing.”

To fill up the letter, he relays that as they were playing golf the day before, “…along the 4th fairway we always come across a lot of rubbers. This time dropped in along the hedges near the treed area we came across a pink undie. You guessed it; it was girls’ panties, torn in half. They looked brand new and of a neat little size. The kids who take care of the greens complain of how the high heels of the girls dig into the velvety surface of the greens while they’re being loved up and down and from all angles, barring no holds by their male lovers.” I can just imagine Anna reading/translating the letter for mom and pop and suddenly stopping when she gets to this part, leaving her parents wondering what she is skipping. Dad continues, “I could write you a lot about this sort of stuff but you’d only get sick of it.”

By the time Dad writes on the seventh, he notes that he has received Anna’s letter of the fourth and expresses his sorrow “…about Josephine becoming a widow” noting that “such a thing can happen practically to anyone nowadays. All you can do is pray and hope.”

Catching up on other news from family back home, Dad writes that he also heard from cousin Stella Morawski about Eddie Morwaski noting, “It seems that Eddie is still full of steel and he must have quite a hide on him.” He thanks Anna for sending Eddie’s address in the hospital and comments “I might drop him a line as soon as I catch up on all the things here.”

Towards the end of the letter, Dad gets a little reflective and nostalgic for home and looks to better days ahead. “I can still imagine being home these summer nights listening to records on daddy’s and mine phono-radio combination sipping Four Roses and ginger ale as chasers and probably pick up an argument with Stanley as usual. This time it will be a pleasure to argue with him as long as I’ll be around him unless one of us should accidentally get married. When I do get married…she must be a clean living girl and she doesn’t have to be any saintlier than me. And, oh yes! She doesn’t have to be too good a cook if she is pretty enough.” 

Dad closes with “That’s about all from here for today. God Bless You!”


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