Letters: October 10, 1951

    Once again I’ve changed addresses but this time for the better. I’m no longer in combat but for the time being. I have a pretty fair job. I’m assigned to the 8th Army flight detachment at Seoul and do nothing but fly the big brass around Korea. Still will go to Japan but it won’t be for some time yet--possibly a month or so. My application has been accepted but I have to wait for a vacancy to appear. It will probably be with the 40th Div.
    Of course my mail is all fouled up again. I haven’t the faintest idea when I’ll get it all by back mail. I was just figuring out the number of different addresses I’ve had. This is the ninth one now. And I’ll probably have a couple more before I return home.
    My setup here is nice. We sleep in a building right in Seoul and have hot water all the time. A regular dining room and good meals. Even can take a shower every day. Also have a bar fixed up which helps quite a lot--most of the day in fact, although I’ve cut down on my drinking quite a lot lately. No particular reason for it--just tired of whisky. Odd, huh?
    About your schooling. Did you say you were getting an elementary or special credential? And just what does a special credential entail? I know on the secondary level but I believe you’re specializing on the elementary level. Am I right?
    Okay slugger for now. I have a big ping pong game coming up. Write goddamn often and bye for now.

P.S. whereinhell’s that picture?

Letters: October 6, 1951

    I finally received a letter from you. Good God I’m living! And whatinhell took you so long? I won’t listen to any excuse--as long as it’s a good one. Once again I’m bitched off but good. This time at the Twenty-Fifth Division. They’re as fouled up as a Chinese fire drill. The gist of the matter is that I had Captaincy coming through but Div. Hqs block it because, they said, I would be leaving soon. What a chicken outfit. But I guess I really don’t care because I’m not making the Army a career. At least not intentionally.
    I’m glad you liked the things. I wasn’t sure just how sexy that night gown would be, not having seen it on a body. So I am in complete agreement with your idea of sending me a picture of you in said nightgown. And I am wondering just how you’ll go about it. It better be right. The ring is an engagement ring--of sorts--whatinhell did you think it was? The pearl in the middle is a black pearl, so they said. They’re Mikimoto pearls. So all for that.
    I guess school is a mad rush around registration. It always was with me. And about the money for your books. I’ve told you before that if you need any money, for gosh sakes don’t be afraid to ask. I got more money that I need. I just lost a hundred bucks in poker and with nothing else to do and nothing to spend money on I play a listless game of poker. So please holler if you need some. I want you to finish school in good style so you can get a good job and then I’ll be able to take it easy--golf and making love to you. Got to fly now hon so bye for now. And please write soon.

P.S. I never argue about religion

Letters: September 23, 1951

    Dear Barbara (Legs) I’m a wonderful letter writer, aren’t I? I’m so modest. But I mean I do write fairly often--I think I do anyway. Come to think of it--that’s a hell of a way to start out a letter but it’s getting so damn hard to start a letter. Not too hard to write a letter but really difficult (new ink) to start one. If this letter sounds odd it’s because I’m nipping on a bottle of Canadian Club. It’s awfully cold and we haven’t a stove so--Sort of anti-freeze but that’s corny I guess--
    I am supposed to be rotated, either to some rear echelon job or maybe Japan (I hope) in about two or three weeks. I’ve had almost eight months of combat with two R&Rs so I’m ready. I’m the oldest (figuratively) pilot in the 25th Division in point of service. So I’m the first one to be rotated. I’m sweating it out.
    I guess school has started by now and I wish to God I were back in a classroom. I wish you’d tell me how it is again and what courses you’re taking and whether you like the courses. I really miss school--more and more now that I understand the whys and wherefores of education.
    I’ve gained quite a bit of weight here in Korea. Not real fat or even chubby but I feel good. But I’m woefully out of condition. I never go anywhere when it’s in an airplane or a jeep and the roads over here are so bad that jeep riding is kept to a minimum.
    Hey--no mail for five days--I’m crying in whatever I happen to be drinking--I did receive a notification from the Alumni Ass’n that I owe them some loot but that’s not a love letter. I don’t love the Alumni Ass’n. Can’t even get interested (biologically) in them. Now take you, for instance. Do you know the picture I like best that you’ve sent me? It’s the one taken at the beach, in a bathing suit, natch, with long hair, down at the sides, a white suit--looks like a play suit--and it shows your shape and legs--to good, real good, advantage. Yes it’s really nice. Anyway that’s the way I picture you most of the time. The other times wouldn’t get past a censor, no matter how lenient, but that’s because of being in Korea. Me I mean, not the censor.
    Have you ever been to Lake Tahoe? Real nice. And a real swell golf course too.
    Well, the bottle is gone and I’m just about. Besides it’s real cold--damn. Wherever we live it better be warm--about twelve months out of twelve. Please write real often--please--Bye for now.

Letters: September 20, 1951

    If my writing seems more erratic than usual it’s because it’s so damn cold. And I mean really cold. We haven’t a stove and no prospect of one in sight and it’s cold all day long too. I hate the cold--in fact. I’d prefer 150° temperature the year around.
    It was wonderful to hear you and talk to you. No kidding. But I must confess something--there was so much I wanted to say--a whole lot of things, and I never got to say them. Not your fault at all. It was just that I never seemed to get started and believe me, there was a whole lot I wanted to say--and to ask you. Next time I’ll make sure I’ll say what I mean to say.
    You ask for something sexy. Why? What I sent may not seem too sexy, although I would like to see you in it. And I hope to gosh it fits. You have never told me your sizes in anything so I guessed on this deal with the help of the salesgirl--to some extent. The other little thing--a bit of jewelry is, I think, real sharp. There again I wasn’t sure of the size but you can have it fixed. Your color picture was okay except for the way you fix your hair. I like it best when it’s long and down on both sides of your face. Like when I last saw you. And your mother is real cute and attractive--uh--er--would consider bigamy--if she’s a good cook that is?

    Okay Baby--I’m so damn cold now I’d better hit the sleeping bag for about eight hours. So I can thaw out. My love to San Francisco. Bye for now.
    P.S. I thought at first you were sending letters in blood, but orange blood--?? Ouch!

Letters: August 31, 1951

    You are really an amazing girl. Every letter--well, almost every letter--proves it more and more. This latest one--the one I received today (first one in a real long time, by the way) gave me an insight into an intelligent woman. [written in margin: surprised, aren’t you] And a warm woman too--which is an aside. My own interpretation--from your letters. Ulp.
    What I mean is what you said of your observations at or of the dance at Balboa some time back. And the way you wondered, as a potential teacher, what could be done. Hon, it’s a big, real big, question and I, like a lot of people probably, think I have an answer. I don’t know for sure and won’t until I have a chance to put my ideas into effect.
    This letter is kind of different from the last but since I got your letter today I feel a hell of a lot better. You mentioned anticipation--I’m anticipating five hundred things and most of them revolve around you. Be that as it may, that's the way I feel.
    I leave for Japan on R&R on or about the 10th of Sept. and I’ll call sometime between the 14th and the 18th. According to your letter you’ll be in San Francisco and I’ll assume you’ll be staying at 99 Divisadero. And the phone there is Market 1-8526. Right? What a memory, huh--plus the little card you gave me.
    Oh yes--when I phone this time let’s have a real good conversation. At four filthy bucks a minute it should be a lilting conversation. So take heed. And if I hear one “oh” or “ah” or “ulp” from you I’ll charge you half of the phone bill. I’ll pay for it on this end but I’ll still charge you.
    When you get to San Fran--on a free weekend go on down to Mom’s new place and tell me what you think of it. She’s quite proud of the place.
    So all for the nonce. Give my best to your folks and say hi to Virge. Write dammit.

Letters: August 25, 1951

Dere Knothead, 

        Or maybe I should say you ol’ goat. The last letter I received from you was so long ago that it seems like another age. That’s kind of poetic, huh? But I don’t feel poetic at all. In fact I’m really down in the dumps. Really feel low and woebegone. Not so much that I haven’t had a letter from you because the mail is fouled up in the rear area and I hope you’re still writing although I wonder--though your last letter was really nice, but I’m feeling low because I’m kind of homesick and wish I were home going out to a nice place to eat and maybe a show or dancing but I’m here in this goddamn place and I’m tired and sick and scared and I don’t think I’m feeling sorry for myself this time because I believe two wars is too much for one man to take without a solid basis on which to return. I’m fed up with the Army and their way of existing. I’m tired of a tent and of the damn bugs that seem to be everywhere. The chlorinated water is foul and the food is hardly better. There’s nothing to do in the evenings but stagnate. I can’t seem to think coherently anymore. The things I learned in college have evaporated to the extent that I feel completely lost and I wonder what I’ll do when I get home.

I feel a little better now that I’ve told you and gotten it off my chest but it’s still in my system. Maybe it will go away tomorrow and maybe I’ll get a letter from you tomorrow. The way things look I’ll be in Tokyo sometime between the 10th and 12th of September. You should be in San Fran then so be expecting a call. And don’t forget to give Mom a call when you reach San Fran. Her number is now--I don’t have it, but her address is 1850 E. San Antonio St. San Jose.

Okay hon, please write real often. Bye for now

[written in pencil on the margin, presumably in my mother’s hand]: Clayborn 85548

Letters: August 3, 1951

    Your letter (singular) arrived today with much fanfare and sounding of trumpets. Mine. I have, and am waiting, with a great deal of eagerness for your letters (this letter is not a soldier’s sob letter from Korea but a definite statement) and it’s hard to understand--in one respect. I like you Barbara. I like you very much and, as you have said, our few dates in San Fran did not present a solid basis on which to base anything--which I am trying to do as you no doubt have gathered from the tone of my letters. Your restraint has been admirable and I’m not trying to get you to commit yourself in any way--I’m just stating a statement (that’s a phrase) and seems to be going the long way around. Also I’m not reaching…
    Every so often I feel like writing a letter of this sort. Probably it sounds dramatized or theatrical, I guess it’s pretty hard to keep away--in a way--from making it sound so. I’m not morbid, at the present, nor am I feeling sorry for myself, just writing a letter to you, and I like you--I guess I’ve said that.
    Anyway, I look forward to your letters and trying to understand--completely--the reason sort of baffles me. I look forward to Mom’s letters but not with the anticipation of what I may find as I do in yours. Naturally it would be a different feeling--I know that. But the overall reason is what I’m trying to get across. (In or with the possibility of you being sort of fogged up at this point, I suggest a scotch and soda and start from the beginning) Anyway, I look for your letters and the feeling is [word unintelligible] but nice. So there.
    Incidentally your letters, lately, have been postmarked from Fullerton. I’d make a wonderful detective but you’d be surprised how much I read or how many times I read a letter. Just a peculiarity of mine.
    Say, you certainly have a prolific family. I like a lot of children and I think your sister is very lucky to have five--if they can afford them. I’d like nine but I lean towards baseball. Maybe a basketball team would be more logical.
    I’ve rambled on enough for one evening. Yes, I’m as tan as I look and yes I do have that lock of nice red hair and yes I--well--that’s all. Say hello to the next drinking man you meet. He and I have something in common--and please write often.

Letters: July 27, 1951

        Dear Flame, you’re slipping--your letters are getting smaller and smaller. One page today--ouch--whither goest thou or something. (This letter can be construed as a bitch letter--the mail “ain’t” coming through and then when I do get one--one page) About the earrings--I didn’t give them to you to be thanked. I just hope you like them. And they’re not the ones I intended to send originally. Those are still waiting to be picked up and they’re much prettier than the ones you have now. So there.
        Also I’ll be going back to Japan around the last of August and if you don’t mind I’ll call. But where? I have all your addresses and phone numbers but where would be the best place to call? As soon as I find out the exact date I’ll let you know. And I’ll pay from my end this time.
        It seems as if there will be a treaty signed but when is the question. I don’t know what we’ll do when that happens but I imagine it will be somewhere in a holding line. One way or another--whether the war keeps on or not I should be home for Christmas. I hope so anyway.
        Our bottle supply has dwindled to practically nothing. We have some gook beer and we got a regular beer ration about once a week but whiskey is what we want. Every time one of us goes to Japan for five days we bring back a case or two but that is quickly gone. I guess I’ll quit drinking when I get home. Heavy drinking, that is. I understand the cost of good blended stuff is tremendous. Over here it’s cheap--real cheap--and it pays to drink. One can buy this Korean whiskey for almost anything but it’s killed quite a few G.I.s so we lay off. It doesn’t taste good anyway. One of the Corps Hqs has set up a bar and we even have--or rather they have mixed drinks--Manhattans, Martinis, etc. But Corps is about twenty from us and if we fly down in the evening we get drunk and can’t fly back and then there’s hell to pay.
        I just thought--you can send me something. A few good pictures of yourself--every now and then.    Okay--
        So to the gook beer. Give my best to the Pacific and bye for now. Write real soon.
P.S I’ve finally decided on a Ford Victoria or convertible. I saw an advertisement in a magazine and the Victoria looks terrific.
P.S. jr. Mom’s address is:
1850 E. San Antonio St.
San Jose, CALIF. USA
NORTH AMERICA,
WORLD

The Yankees - 2 to 1

Letters: July 21, 1951

        Came the curl, sweet girl, today. Just seven days from moving time and here I am, gazing at some red hair--which, in our dismal light, shines real nice. But how short did you have it cut? I still think you look good with long hair but then I haven’t seen you with short hair. Just took another look at the picture of you in a bathing suit (white) with long hair and you look terrific. Damn this Korea--I’ve been too far East too long.
        We’ve had wonderful weather for the last three days. It’s rained like mad. Haven’t moved from the sack except for meals and bridge. Won fourteen bucks playing bridge--also won a bottle of CC which I managed to get three drinks out of--small ones at that.
        Thanks for your telephone number and I’ll call when I go to Japan again. But where shall I call? And where do I continue to send the letters? I guess I had better keep on sending them to Pomona and I’ll be sure you’ll get them.
        I didn’t recognize the names of the guys you said you and Kiko met at the Hideout. Nice place, huh? I understand it’s fixed up too nice now and doesn’t have the charm of old.
        Have you heard anything about the Sullivans and how Kathleen is getting along? I believe she is in a sanitorium now.
        So Hon--okay and bye for now. Don’t work too hard on that salary you’re getting and my offer still stands. Write real often--please.

Letters: July 18, 1951

        Long time no write--me I mean, and I’m really sorry but I went to Tokyo on R&R and drank up most of the Manhattans and Scotch and Sodas in Tokyo. At least I tried. Even played golf and--oh yes--do you play golf? If not would you learn because if not, you are going to be a golf widow! At least one day a week.
        I’m glad to hear you are working but as I said--if you need any money let me know--please. Say, do you commute daily between Pomona and the beach or are you living at the beach?
        There were two letters from you waiting for me when I returned--and real nice letters too--but you still haven’t told me your phone number. And if I had called how was I ever to reach you in Pomona when you’re down at the beach? Incidentally I’m not so goddamn old--I look younger every day--so there.
        Sent some earrings while in Tokyo. Hope you like them cause I love you lots and when you wear them if out on a date I hope you look real pretty.
        I called Mom and told her I was in Korea so the pretense is no longer needed. With the war almost? over I thought it was okay.
        These pictures are just a few that have been taken and I’ll send more as I can get them developed easier now in Seoul. Shops have sprung up all over the place and especially photo shops.
        I’ve been thinking seriously of going off flying status and taking a ground job. I’ve had about enough of flying now besides it isn’t fun anymore. I may be able to get a good job in Division Ha and if I can--no more flying. But I’m not sure as yet. The extra $110 a month still looks good and I can be mercenary about that.
        Well Hon--all for now. Hope you’re doing okay in your job and don’t work too hard. And how about another picture of you in a, uh, er, bathing suit. Bye for now.

Letters: July 5, 1951

        Your latest letter was a honey, you get better and better all the time. And you’re right on quite a few counts too. The friendship will exist and ripen I hope. But you’re wrong on one count. That I’m not proud of your grades.Well I am proud. One “D” isn’t too bad and the “A” counteracts that. Anyway, considering all the distractions you had you did pretty good and I’m proud of you. Maybe during the next semester I may be home and there is one distraction you’ll love--for sure.
        Your mother seems to be quite a drinker (not a derogatory remark) like my Mom--and I’m glad you wrote to her. It will make her feel good. Anyway, tell your Mother that when I arrive in Pomona I’ll sit down and go along with her drink for drink--although I like my Sherry straight.
        We are all tense concerning the outcome of these peace talks but it looks awfully good from here. If there is peace I don’t know what the Division will do but there is a rumor that Eisenhower has asked for the 25th Div. Oh sob, gasp, sob.
        While I’m in Japan I’ll be able to get those earrings for you so be ready for a surprise. Oh yes--oh goddamnit--don’t, repeat don’t join the WACS, or any branch of the service for that matter. If you need money I’ll send it but don’t join the WACS. Please.
        How is Pomona these summer days? It’s too hot here and really hot. I’m looking forward to the week in Japan where I can roll into some cool officer club and gorge myself. In just five days I’ll be on my way. Certainly wish I had your phone number. I’d like to talk to you again. I would even pay for it on this end.
        So Hon, okay. Hope I get a letter from you today. The mail will be in in about three hours. Now, at 4:15 PM 5 July we’re listening to Pres. Truman in Washington on 4 July. Only it ain’t coming in so good.
        Please write real soon. Say Hi to all and bye for now, and if you need money, please say.

Letters: July 3, 1951

        Finally you write--you knucklehead and I don’t believe you have any kind of a good excuse--at all. If you’ve been on your “dime”, as your mother says, you could take off ten or fifteen minutes to send ol’ watasi a note. Watasi means me in Japanese, or maybe it’s Korean. Right now I’m about three sheets because of the potential peace about to break in Korea and all the pilots are practically completely drunker than seven hundred dollars. I’m not quite looped because it seems I’m writing, more or less, evenly--or am I. Gee I’m glad you wrote--finally. It’s been a real long time since you did and I kind of missed your letters lately.
        The outfit is off the line now, or did I tell you. We’ve been off for about a week now and if the peace comes through we won’t have to go back into combat. And next week, the 10th, I go on R&R to Japan for a week. If I knew your phone number I’d call again. Do you have a phone in Pomona?
        I’m writing this by candlelight and the boys are zooming around the lights like jets. And hitting me occasionally and it’s irritating.
        I’m sorry you’re not working. I wish you were so you could save some dough so we could be married when John comes marching home. Did you know that Mom and Dad bought a new home in San Jose and are living in it by now. They have fixed up a room for watasi that’s out of the world--so they say.
        Okay hon, time for another knock, and after this one I won’t be able to lift the pen. Give my love to the orange groves--and please write soon. Bye for now.

P.S. If you need any money just scream

Letters Missed: May 29, 1951

        Just received another letter from you though this one was dated April 25. IN it you said you felt like a monster for not writing but here I’ve been getting mail from you regularly so I don’t think you’re a monster. At the end of the letter you said you didn’t like to be called Barbara. Well Baby, I abhor nicknames and whereinhell did you even get the name of Tommy? Tis an offshoot of Thomas and I don’t think you were christened Thomas so Barbara it is. So there… Maybe you’ve forgotten about it anyway--
        Other than those two remarks your letter was an enjoyable bit of interesting things you were doing--you do write a nice letter, being able to write things so that the reader (me) is able to picture what is going on with only a minimum of imagination. Although sometimes you make me stretch my imagination to such a degree it hurts. Have you ever had an imagination that hurt? Oh sob, gasp, sob!
        Tomorrow we move again. And we’ve moved twice since my last letter. We’re now about two thousand yards South of the parallel (38th) and tomorrow we move into an airstrip just over the parallel. There seems to be a lot of peace talk floating around the Division and we know for sure the Chinese have pulled back way up North. I don’t know how they (the Chinese) keep up their movements with the way the flyboys are giving them hell. And our tankers go way up North probing and looking for trouble but only a few scattered Chinese troops are found. And there are dead Chinese everywhere. It’s a silly war, the way it’s being fought.
        Okay honey, all of the letter for now. You’ve been real keep about writing and I love you lots. Hope you can see the folks before the summer starts. Bye for now.

Letters: June 18, 1951

        I’ve slipped up on writing for a goddamn good reason. I’ve been mad--angry rather--and I mean angry. For the last six or seven days. What at? Well, for one--me. Also angry with the Army. Also angry with you. And angry with the whole world in general. There is nothing I can put my finger on exactly. I’m just angry--or was. I should say, and I don’t want to go to the trouble of clarifying it in any way. Probably it was just a periodical mood and I’ll let it rest there.
        I have received a letter or two from you--about your finals and your chance for a job on Lido--which would be real nice for you I would think. Your lament on your clothes--the condition they’re in--made me decide to send you a money order payday to help ease the situation. One thing--were you literal or figurative about your clothes?
        This war is sad--but July 22 I got to go back to Japan for R&R. One gay, mad, eventful week of steaks and salads. Something else, although don’t construe it with my next leave to Japan though it may sound bad--but did you know I haven’t seen a white woman since March. Honest. And damn few Korean women because they stay away from the front. Most civilians do. They’re not allowed. No nurses anywhere near us. The closest hospital, with nurses, is about two hundred miles away. Oh well… Just thought I’d tell you--it’s just one more thing to bitch about.
        I still can’t fathom the reason for “Tommy” (sob)(gasp). Doubting Thomas sounds or would sound reasonable, depending on what you have to doubt.
        Alas and alack, I’m bushed and it’s sack time abooot now. We had a small air raid last night and if we have another tonight I want to get a little sleep before. So by for now hon, and write real soon to let me know about Pomona and So Calif.

Letters: June 6, 1951

        One of the pilots went home on rotation today and we celebrated him off in royal fashion. As it rained here in sunny Korea--North Korea, that is (no more you-alls) we didn’t have to fly so the whole day was spent in making (not a girl in Korea named Mary) the base for a wonderful hangover. This pilot, who left for the States, left about six this morning but that didn’t deter us from continuing the celebration--all day. Now we find out that this pilot (who leaves) only goes about fifteen miles away to a replacement depot for two or three days processing and will come back tomorrow to help us finish the party. I don’t know whether I can stand it but it’s a hell of a lot of fun trying not too hard--to stand it, I mean. Probably the dirty ol’ weather will clean up and be a rotten nice day. Such is war.
        I guess you’re right in the midst of finals so I won’t be expecting many letters for awhile. I hope you do real good--come to think of it I hope you get this letter. Maybe you have finished your finals by now and are on the way to Utopia. Incidentally, do you plan to finish your school work at SF State, or elsewhere? Just curious.
        The bottle is being passed around again and I think I see a small game of lose-my-loot starting. I have sixty bucks that ain’t working, as the only thing sold in Korea needs penicillin shots afterward, and I have an aversion to needles in the region of the derriere.
        Write as often as you can, preferably between hangovers and Henry IV. Your letters then have a quality that is hard to surpass--meaning you feel, in your letters, dashing and nostalgic--those two words being applicable at the moment the way I feel--at the moment I guess “dashing” isn’t the word but how would you explain Prince Hal--or am I way off on Shakespeare?
        Bye for now, goodlooking. Write soon.
        P.S I’m going to be on television (KTTV) sometime around the middle of June. It will be a newsreel of the 25th Division and Air Section. The TV cameraman happened to be an old friend so I’m starred (more or less)(mostly less). Anyway I am on it and if you see or hear of it let me know. I’m sorry I won’t be able to make the premiere but next time maybe.

Letters: May 25, 1951

        Dear Redhead--Incidentally your hair is still red, isn’t it? Please don’t ever change it. I was looking at your beach picture a moment ago and I tried to imagine (fairly successfully) how your hair looked. Looks good--I looked again just now and also decided it looks real good long too. I mean when your hair is long it looks real good.
        This is your paper you sent me and I am grateful beyond a few words. Those few words are: thanks a million hon. It’s real nice writing paper.
        It’s raining like the devil this evening but today was a good day as far as the war goes. Our tanks got up to the 38th parallel and we flew far over the parallel looking for gooks. Found a whole bunch too and the Air Force took care of most of them. They (the Chinese) were bugging out to the North, so our Infantry will be crossing the parallel, probably tomorrow. In fact the Chinese were moving so fast our artillery couldn’t catch up with them. But now the rain, which always gives the gooks time to regroup is coming down pretty heavily and will probably hinder the night fighters. The Air Force is really chalking up the gook casualties and you can believe what you read in the paper about the Chinese casualty rate.

        Okay hon--all for now. Be careful and good luck on your finals. Don’t study the night before an exam. Go to a show and relax. Honest, it does wonders--write soon.

Letters: May 21, 1951

        Received another two letters from you today--maybe you did go to the Postal Authorities on this mail situation like you said you maybe would do. Whatever it is the mail is coming quite regularly of late and it’s the only thing that makes this Korean police action somewhat bearable.
        I’m proud of you Barbara. For your good marks and for your interest in cultural things. Now that may sound trite and a little silly but I assure you I mean it because you have written about plays and operas plus, I guess, your selection of some of your courses which aren’t, I believe, required. And I don’t think you would say such things just to be filling up space in a letter. So I think you’re kinda sharp.
        Today it’s raining like hell. It started just as I finished my mission so mine was the only flight. Our flights, or missions, average around two and a half hours and we fly over the lines looking for gooks. When we see any we contact fighters and then sit back and watch the fun. If we can’t get jets on then we contact our artillery and still have fun. What a stupid war. No sense to it--no rhyme nor reason, at least to us. It’s just one line of men against another line of men with a rice paddy as the prize. And there are an awful lot of goddamned rice paddies in Korea.
        Glad you finally got down to the family for a day and I hope you had a nice time. And thanks for not telling them about me being in Korea. I’ll buy you a mink if you want.
        Yesterday two things happened to me that were more or less eventful. Got four shots in my arm, same arm, same time. Cholera, Hep B, Typhus, and Smallpox vaccination. Hell I can’t even raise my arm to take a drink--of which I have a bottle of bourbon phenagled from a Canadian in exchange for an airplane ride. The second thing that happened was that I got a haircut. Now this may not seem eventful, even more or less to you, but to me it was both humorous and catastrophic. I got a haircut from one of the Korean boys we keep around for odd jobs and that is exactly what happened to my hair. He used a 1916 pair of clippers and clipped straight up all the way around. The rest of the pilots are still laughing. It honestly looks like a bowl haircut and I wish you could see it but I refuse to send any pictures so use your imagination. The clippers were about as sharp as wet cotton and I still hurt.
        We just got in our ration of beer so we’re going to have a few rubbers off of bridge for the beer. Poker would seem more logical but in bridge it takes longer and we can drink while we play. Don’t lose any beer now.
        Bye for now hon--thanks for writing like you have been. Hope you get to see the family again.

Letters: May 19, 1951

Praise the Lawd and Hallelulah (How in hell do you spell Hal--oh well). I finally received some mail. Seven letters in all and two from you. One dated April 10 and the other May 8, 5PM. And quite real good letters too. You know something...you continue to amaze me. You have amazed me in the past with something you have written--I’ve forgotten now--and the time we went out--your personality amazed me because it’s rare to find a personality like yours. Be sure to keep it. Anyway you have amazed me and your recent letters continue to amaze me. Reason? Well, it’s how mature you sounded in your last two or three letters. I won’t go into detail on what you said but you wondered what was happening in this crazy old world of ours and what of the future. I honestly didn’t think you thought of things like that. Now forgive me for seeming to be harsh but I thought your world amounted to the next guy you met or the party you were going to--the fun you could have. The future to you, it seemed to me, amounted to nothing more than struggling through college and then more fun. That’s the picture I had, Baby, but I’m wrong and feel good about being wrong. There’s an old saying that says: the future belongs to those who build for it. Nice saying but what does it mean in this topsy-turvy world. I guess I wonder like you although like you I had a definite objective or goal toward which I was working. Trying to buy a future four or five years of work but now I believe it’s a hell of a lot more than that. A future can’t be bought--it has to be dreamed for, analyzed, torn apart and put back together--all before the step is made. Of this I’m sure. Maybe it’s contrary to the accepted mores but the way things go now when nobody is quite sure which is which or what is what leads me to believe that that way is best. Then again there is nothing definite to go on--which way will the war go? After the war which way will I go? To do what? I still want to finish what I started but can I? Am I capable? How about yourself, hon? Sit down and analyze it from every aspect, every angle. I’ve tried it a hundred times and still I’m not sure.

Maybe I’ve confused you proper but I could tell you a hell of a lot better than write it. So all for now.Give my love to the cat and please write often.

P.S. whoinhell is whatshisname where you went for the weekend?

P.S.S. Got some ack ack through the tail of the plane today--close.

Letters: May 2, 1951

        Still no mail--it’s somewhere between Yokohama and Yong Dong-po, which is where I am at the present. It’s about three miles South of Seoul and I think we will stay or maybe move forward soon. The Chinese couldn’t push us out of Seoul and now have withdrawn way up North or maybe over to the Eastern front. I was out flying cover for a tank task force today and found a squad of gooks but that was all. Very few around or near us but it was a sweat for awhile.
        Took my first shower in three weeks today. Kee-rist I was filthy. Same ol’ goddamn war except the last one was in Europe where there was women and liquor. Here there’s neither. The only people we see are refugees and sometimes we mistake them for gooks, and bon nuit--Sherman knew whereof he spoke.
        As I said earlier--no mail as yet and I’m not even sure you’re still writing. I imagine so--hope so anyway. When I do get all my mail I should have a field day. Beaucoup letters.
        We eat fairly good--it’s called class A rations and edible but nothing fancy. Sleeping in tents most of the time--nothing left of any houses in these Korean towns. Dust too, and thick.
        Gee hon, wish I had a letter from you so I would know what to say other than about the war--maybe soon. How are you doing in school?
        Okay, all for the nonce. How’s San Fran doing without John Joseph Anthony these days? And how is Virge getting along--

Letters: April 28, 1951

        I wrote last night and I’m not in the habit of writing two days in succession but today I ran across a letter from you written on Nov. 22 of last year. I remember now I had received it in Yokohama--the first one I received from the States. In it you talked about our “night”, how you were sorry what happened--how much you enjoyed the fun we had at the different spots. While reading the letter (for the nth time) I dreamed away and it was fun. I mean the night we had. Even leaving me to the mercy of God knows what in the car outside of your apartment. I still laugh at that. --Goddamn, a 155 gun outfit moved into position about fifty yards from my hole and they’re starting to fire. It’s ten thirty at night and they will probably fire all night. No sleep I guess. A 155 can be awfully loud. But I’m glad it’s outgoing, not incoming.
        The other pilots and myself had a discussion tonight on the relative merits of the comic strip--Steve Canyon. We get an occasional Stars & Stripes, about two weeks late but it has sports and funnies. Anyway, according to the discussion it’s a good story and it began to take on a real life aspect that was both humorous and pathetic. At first I tried to speak on the subject objectively but was soon immersed up to my neck. Odd how seemingly important unimportant things can be.
        This letter is also, in a way, a Mother’s Day greeting. You may be someday [a mother], you know. I have hopes. So Happy Mother’s Day hon.
        I guess this letter will seem a little odd. Maybe so. Maybe I’m in an odd mood or maybe I’m--see I really don’t know. I sometimes wish I had the power of a poet like Browning or a writer like Maugham to be able to express things I feel. I feel I need much more education to do such a thing but, deep down, I wonder why--one thing I do know--an old French something or other--it’s kind of nice:
        Today I love you more than I did yesterday but less than I will tomorrow.
        P.S. spend a buck and send me some nice writing paper huh? I’m almost out.

Letters: April 24 and 27, 1951

        April 24, 1951 - Still no mail--goddamnit, are you writing? Probably so but it’s been a long time since I opened a letter from anyone. Of course my changing addresses so much has probably fouled up the works. I undoubtedly have mail scattered all over the far East.
        I’m now a member of the 25th Div and we are, or were until the attack started, at a place called Chanjang-mi, which is about twenty-five miles north of Seoul. The gooks are hitting fairly hard to the East and we’re not sure of our flanks or rear. What a war. Thank God I have an airplane.
        Korea is, to me and a bunch of other guys, nothing but one big latrine. The warmer the weather, the worse the smell. These rice paddies are beyond description. Ugh! Also--and this I think is funny--here there are a lot of pocket books of every description and the question everybody has to a person reading one is not whether it’s a good book or if it’s interesting but on what page does the girl get made and I’ll start from there. Sex, Sex, Sex. Rampant.
        Until I get a letter from you hon--bye for now.


        April 27, 1951 - Still no mail but I’m not particularly worried as I will probably get a whole bunch pretty soon. What is hard is to find something to write about other than the war. You may have some questions or maybe you wrote something about what you did in school or how much you drank at some party--those things I could remark about.
        The war is rough--believe me. We’ve been kicked off two strips (air) in the last three days--we’re in Seoul now and we expect to move back tomorrow. On one strip Chinese guerrillas (how the hell do you spell it?) infiltrated and we had to leave at one thirty in the morning. We’ll probably have to move back across the Han river if the Chink offensive keeps up. This moving back is bad because we can never get set to stabilize our lines. These damn South Korean troops aren’t worth the powder to blow them to hell. In fact they were responsible for this latest withdrawal because the Chinese hit them first and they turned and ran, leaving ours and the 3rd Div. flanks wide open. So now we’re hurting. God knows when it will stop.
        Well hon, guess that’s all for now. Hope you’re okay and knocking over the grades in school. And how about going up to the Fairmont and having a drink with and for me. Write real often.

Letters: April 18, 1951

        I’m bitching again--no mail for some time--and you promised you’d write more often. There’s a guy coming over from Japan today and maybe he’s bringing some mail. I hope so. Yeah, I’m in Korea now and, as far as I know, I should be home for Xmas. So say a prayer for me, maybe two.
        I had a set of pearl earrings on order up in Yokohama but they weren’t ready by the time I left. So I’m not sure just when I’ll be able to get them. Have patience, baby, have patience.
        How’s school these days? Here it is almost May and then another school year is finished. I keep forgetting whether you are graduating this time or you’ll be a senior or just what--
        I still haven’t any good pictures of me (sans bathing suit) that I could send to you. I sent a couple to Mom but I didn’t think they were too hot. Maybe you saw them. Incidentally, have you been down to San Jose yet? It may seem like I’m trying to push things but honest Barb you will enjoy it. I know.
    So until I hear from you--Bye for now. Please write soon and real often. Be a morale builder, huh? To me I mean…

Pick Up The Pieces

Shellshocked. Dispirited. A gnawing gloom like after a bitter romantic breakup that saps your natural, even mundane, enthusiasm for life. Like many others, especially here in blue Sonoma County, I climbed into bed November 2nd worried but falling into dreaming hope we could wake to a beautiful morning. Dawn’s rosy fingers did not gently summon, but clawed a stranglehold. And those who once denounced, raced loyally to support. The Tao Te Ching sang it thousands of years ago: “And when the country is in chaos, loyal ministers appear.”

I feared it would go badly, but not horrendously so. And it was Wednesday, the day the Oliver’s Market checker dreads (my job and place of work). Senior discount day, when the elderly citizens of Santa Rosa and surrounding locales descend on the market to do their week’s shop and get their ten percent off. Walker Wednesday, we call it; Day of the zombies; Wednesday Depends Day… From the Sonoma Valley retirement community of Oakmont (“Croakmont” as one grinning gray-haired offered), shuttle buses dislodge the elderly late mornings. Seniors pack the checkstands wielding checkbooks. They pettily demand refunds, like a $5.99 plastic container of watermelon chunks they bought in early May, complaining that “it wasn’t sweet” as though it was our responsibility to ensure sweetness in fruit bought out of season. It was rounding out to be a depressing day.

Dragging the gloom into lunch, I hoped for solace on a bench along Ducker Creek trail, a one and a half-minute bike ride from work. Lining the creek and shading the path are maple, willow, ash, live oak, white adler, and buckeye, and squirrels scurry across branches weaving their canopy. While munching my sandwich of despair, a lone dog trotted by. Giving me scarcely a nod, he seemed intent on sniffing the leaves beneath the tree against which my rickety bench leaned. I had the feeling he knew this trail, so I waited for his person to follow. No one for a few minutes, but the dog didn’t act like an escaped pet, more like one familiar with the route and checking for variations. Still no owner. The dog then squatted intently on a carpet of leaves, and did his business. 

I made sure to spy the drop location, to inform the owner if and when s/he showed. We keep hearing we’re divided as a country, entrenched more like it. But we can easily reach across the chasm and locate comrades, whether liberal or conservative, as we who see our country made up of two groups: people who pick up their dogs’ poop, and those who don’t. The first group does its civic duty; the others are assholes, and they range across the political spectrum.  

A few minutes later two smaller dogs wandered onto the trail from where the first dog came, and momentarily a large, older man shuffled slowly and carefully behind them. He moved stiffly rather than walking, edging his steps forward, a doubtful faith in balance. The two other dogs hovered around the man’s legs, not thirty feet from me.

Protective of my solitude when my job is dealing face to face with long lines of people, and Tuesday’s horror still simmering in my skull, I immediately tagged him as intruder and enemy, who was probably celebrating what will be a Pyrrhic victory. Without patience, I called over to him, informing him of his dog’s leavings. Didn’t quite hear me, so I repeated, implying his responsibility. Mumbling understanding, he then turned and shuffled away, noting he needed a bag. Would he dutifully return?

When he emerged onto the path a few minutes later, and I saw his unsteady gait, felt contrite for my ill assessment, and approached him, saying I’d pick up the poop. When I reached for the bag, he light-heartedly brushed away my attempts. 

“No, I’ll do it, it’s okay. I just need to go slowly.”

But I could get it, I offered, I knew the exact spot.

“It’s good for me to walk. Exercise. Just had a knee operation, this’ll be good.”

I fell into step with him, sharing my own knee weaknesses, pointing to support sleeves on both knees. Why I deigned to take a job standing all day, at my age, I’ll never know.

Pointing to my lunch bag on the bench and bike, I explained this was my spot away from Oliver’s. He waved a hand over his shoulder and said he lived “right back there”, the house hidden by overgrown tan and pale green brush rising along the tree trunks above thin wire city fencing bulging and dipping along its route lining the properties. 

Conversation then narrowed to finding poop. With brown and grayish green leaves blanketing the edge of the trail, locating the pile proved difficult. Autumn leaves camouflage dog poop maddeningly well. Finally found it, and he scooped it up. He said his larger dog just takes himself out, he knows this trail so well. 

He pointed again to the house. “I’ve lived in that same house for fifty years! I grew up in that house.” There were photos of him, he added, as a teenager with his brother inside the foundation of the house his father was building right there on the property. “My father ran a sheep ranch. We had thirty-five acres. Our property stretched to Brush Creek!” I’d ridden the Brush Creek trail bike trail that morning, like most workdays. “There was a time,” he continued, pointing east to the hills and mountains over which a half hour away lays a long, fertile valley named Napa, “when our place and the house across the street--well, not those, those are newer--our two houses were the only ones in this area. There’s a photo of me and my brother on the road there, and there’s nothing but pasture between us all the way to Calistoga Road.” 

My lunch hour was nearing the end. As I piled my book and toiletry kit and ravaged lunch sack into my bike bag, our conversation dwindled, then amicably petered out. He shuffled back up the trail, dogs weaving around his legs, and the family disappeared behind the wild-haired, leafy thicket.

Seven or so days later… 

A shorter work schedule today, my lunchtime cut to half an hour, I raced to my creekside bench. Proving that canines and humans alike thrive inside routines, onto the trail ambles the same big furry dog, tail like a wide fan swishing and feathering the sun-dappled breeze, nose-down and forward-sniffing the fallen bronze leaves. He again tosses only a half-second sideways glance, reading me as no threat. But I could tell: he was on the search, scouting for the right patch to do his business. No sign of the man, or his smaller companions. Then he adopted the squat a little farther on, same side of the trail. I see another guy coming from up the trail, little dog on leash. The first dog finished, sniffed around to file his daily reports in the evening, then passed the other guy, his dog, and me, got to the sidewalk, then ran up his driveway. Still, no one emerged. 

Passing slowly, the man paused. “Is that your dog?”

Eager to disclaim responsibility, I offered a full explanation of the owner’s house, the owner who came out to do his duty at my request at our  meeting, and kept pointing to the house that once headed a thirty-five acre sheep ranch that stretched from this rickety bench along a Ducker Creek tributary to Brush Creek, a half mile away. 

“Mellow dog,” he said, and walked on.

The dog’s drop was still nestled in the leaves. I wandered up the trail looking for a random littered bag of any kind, but avid stewards must patrol and keep this wild and bushy haven clean, bless them.

I finally found a clear plastic wrapper the size of a small envelope, partially hidden in wet leaves. Approaching the few yards where I saw the act, I bent over and stepped lightly while scanning closely an endless tapestry of leaves. There they were, only a few slender rolls to scoop. I walked over to the trash bin and dropped the bag.

A good thing done for our common ground, and it didn’t cost a penny.

Letters: April 12, 1951

        I’ve received two letters from you in the last few days so I had better get on the ol’ spherical. Fact is: I just returned from a few days' visit to my old station in Sapporo and now I’m getting ready to leave tomorrow for the Empire of Korea. Sapporo was really drunk out--wow--the boys up there gave me a send off to end all send offs. Three days cost me a little over a hundred bucks [$1,023.02 in 2017 USD--compiler’s note] and I didn’t eat much so I guess most of it went for liquor. Had a real Japanese party complete with Geisha girls (dancers) and Japanese food (I’m not sure what all was in it) eaten with chopsticks.
        A letter today from you was, as you put it, real messy. But I haven’t the vaguest idea who those people are you talk about. Reminds me of the time a friend wrote and told me about a couple who were married but he said he guessed I didn’t give a damn as I didn’t know them. Well, I like to hear what you’re doing, but, as I said, I don’t know the people you talk about so it doesn’t register too much with me. If you find it hard to think of what to write about then write a love letter--I can really appreciate that type.
        Your phone line slays me, and probably Mom also. Only talked about twenty dollars worth to her. She said you had written so I guess by this time it’s all taken care of. I hope you have gone down there--I really do.
        If I remember correctly you had a pretty nice shape and the picture you sent bears me out. Tis a very cute picture Baby and thanks alot. But you going up to 118 lbs shouldn’t be too bad but 150--Ha! The only thing I’m sweating out are these gray hairs. They’re quite numerous, but distingué. [French for “distinguished”--impressed compiler’s note; didn’t know my Dad knew French]

        Your last letter only took five days. I wish it would only take five days for you to get over here for a weekend or so. Oh well.
        My next letter will be from Frozen Choson somewhere. Don’t forget--don’t tell Mom.

        Write soon hon - pretty please.

Letters: April 2, 1951

           After reading your letter I have come to the conclusion that you are right, more or less. Maybe it was or seemed sort of quick, although I could give you a good sound argument if given the chance. Something else, too, which I didn’t take into consideration. I’m quite a bit older than you--in a short while I’ll hit the thirty-two mark, which ain’t exactly high-schoolish. So we might as well forget the whole thing and imagine I didn’t even call. When I call again it shall be a normal conversation--of sorts--although I hope to elicit more from you than hello and goodbye.

        My pretty soft living is just about up. I have received my orders for Choson (Korea). I’ve been expecting it for some time so I’m not surprised although I am definitely not eager. One nice thing about it--after six months of combat we are supposed to be rotated back stateside--I hope so. Incidentally, when you see Mom, don’t tell her that I’m in Korea. I’m going to keep on telling her that I’m still in Yokohama for the duration. She worries too much is why--nor my sisters--they may slip and tell Mom.

        Okay Baby, all for now. Keep on writing, and to the same address until I find out what my new one will be. Hope you enjoy the weekend with Mom and Dad. They will like having you down.

Letters: March 24, 1951

         Chapter IX. Continuing the trials and tribulations of Fosdick X. Corrigan in his search for understanding of telephone chatter by redheads who say nothing but: uh-oh-ya-uh-well I don’t gee-but-oh golly-I see-uh-oh-well maybe-heck-gin & tonic, please-uh-uh-uh-hic hic-uh-yaaaa-S.F. State-uh-well gee-uh-be careful-uh-

        For some twenty five or so bucks--ouch--I left the morning after I called from where I called and I’m now just a short hop from Tokyo and I’m socked in by weather. Expect to leave tomorrow morning and I should be back in Yokohama tomorrow night and I hope there’s a letter from you awaitin’ ol’ Fosdick X., better known as the getting to be sad joe.

        It was an interesting conversation nevertheless, and I’m glad I made the call and I’ll call again if you don’t mind although probably at a more decent hour but I had to be sure of catching you at home--not meant as a crack hon.

        I thought you were going to send me some more pictures of one each good looking redhead? Well?

        Okay Baby--I’ll write again when I get back to Yokohama. Give my love to your landlady, who I don’t know but she’s probably a nice woman. Write soon.

    .S. Hi

Letters: March 20, 1951

        There were two letters from you waiting for me when anxious ol’ me got back two days ago. Thanks Baby -- although it seemed to be a hodgepodge of thought--your letters I mean--with no cohesion of sentences or phrases. Which is understandable--you’re not, as yet, having entered the realm of the almighty graduate whose podium consists of irony, and whose knowledge is far beyond the comprehension of mere undergraduates--said knowledge consisting of good taste in liquor, etc. Also redheads--now after digesting all that--How are you?

        As I said--I’m back in Yokohama but tomorrow I leave again on another trip to Frozen Choson, which isn’t frozen so much now, spring having arrived--even in Korea. Here in Yokohama the days are balmy, more or less. I saw a terrific picture this evening--you’ve probably seen it-- “Born Yesterday”. One of the best I’ve seen in a long, long time. -- Just opened a beer, can--Christ, I’m beginning to write like you--oh yes, your description of the date with the eight arms was cute. But you haven’t really been “took” out until I return when it shall be a two week date--with propriety of course--from San Fran to Del Monte to LA to Las Vegas--are you game? I’m serious Baby--it’s not just idle chatter. It sounds real good to me and I’m becoming awfully cynical here lately for no apparent reason.

        Bye for now. Keep on writing like you say you have been--be good hon.

Letters: March 15, 1951

            I believe this makes the third, or maybe it’s the second letter I’ve written you without having heard from you. And I’m bitching like hell. At present I’m on a flight to Korea and had engine trouble in Pusan so I’ve had to stay here four days. There may be a letter from you back in Yokohama--damnit, there had better be one or you should head from the Brea hills--are there any hills in Brea? I’ve forgotten. All in all it makes it kind of hard to write when I don’t hear from you and there’s not a whole lot to write about over here. Anyway I thought it would make for a more interesting talk when I get home. Providing you’re still around the old homestead. As soon as I get back to Yokohama and if I don’t have too many more flights to Korea and if I stay in the Yokohama area which I’m not sure that I will I think I will look into the Army Educational program concerning graduate courses leading to a teaching credential. The U of Calif has set up a program over here with high school and college courses that allow credit to be given. I’m not sure about grad courses but if they have them and they pertain to my subject I might as well utilize the evenings I have because there isn’t a damn thing to do except drink and that gets tiresome after awhile. Good idea, huh? I need a year’s graduate work anyway and if I could get some classes out of the way now I’d be that much ahead. I get older each day and I want to start teaching before I retire on an old age pension. Or you supporting me. -- The weather has changed for the better over here--it’s been awfully nice the last week or so. Bright sunny days and balmy evenings that remind me of Fullerton and Orange County.
            Gee hon - nothing else I can think of at present. How are you doing in school? I hope you’re getting good grades for your own sake--they mean a lot while in school but not a thing after you graduate. Bye for now- Please write soon and often.

Letters: March 5 1951

        I wish there were some other way to start out writing a letter than just to start out writing. But for the life of me I can’t figure out how. And that seems to have taken care of the start anyway. If you, by this time, think I’m psycho you are very close to right. Actually, starting a letter is the hardest part of the whole letter for me. Maybe I should have majored in letter writing. Come to think of it, you should have also. At least in the number of letters needed to keep our boys overseas happy. Me. At first it was a steady stream and now it’s a trickle. Maybe you have written lots lately--I haven’t been back to Yokohama for some time to see if there is any mail for me. I did get one letter from you in the last two weeks. I’ve been socked in at an airfield in South Japan because of bad weather. It’s the one where you told me all about your trip through the northern part of Calif. And I agree completely that No. Calif is wonderful and I believe I told you once before that I want to teach in No. Calif somewhere. Preferably around Sonoma. [Tim's note: My god, I'm living in Sonoma County!]

        Before I forget--the pictures were wonderful but I thought I had said something before. Guess not. They are swell Hon and I would like some more whenever you will send them. -- -- Incidentally there is a time lapse of two days between the last paragraph and where the ink looks different. As I said earlier in the letter I was writing from an airbase in So Japan. Well, I ran out of ink and then flew to Korea. Now I’m back to Yokohama and ink in the pen--and no letter from you as yet and goddammit why haven’t you written lately oh hell you have probably written and I will get a letter real soon I hope and just where do you want to honeymoon at if it’s still on I men about us and are you willing to wait for a couple of years when I get out of the goddam army of course I’ll be a little older than you those gray hairs are more and more evident tough I don’t mind and I have another flight to Korea day after tomorrow is there anything special you would like from Japan some silk maybe or what you name it.

        Okay Baby--all for now. Every day is duller than the last and I wish I were back in San Fran for good instead of stinking Japan. Please write real often and be good once in awhile anyway.

Letters: Feb 15, 1951

         Received your latest letter in just six days from the time it was mailed--practically a record and it’s almost like a telephone call. But your letters--what a conglomeration of confusion and egotism plus some rather interesting points. But I love you and I don’t go to Stockton just to get a ride or what the hell do you mean. You also said you read (while home) some old love letters you received in 1943, which would put you in the 14 years old bracket then--you being 22 and your birthday Feb 5--which reminds me--today I sent you a small gift from your birthday. Hope you like it love. I don’t know if you wear things like that or not. Reason for telling you this is that I didn’t send a card or message with the gift-I did send it airmail and you may receive it before this letter…

        Congrats on your remarkable recovery to the A & B class in grades. Beneath that good looking exterior lies a PhD. But I would hate like hell to try to make love to a walking classroom with Plato’s principles and Freudian philosophy, with an offshoot of Euclid--wow, I didn’t think that would come out of me. -- -- I just reread your letter and the last part sticks with me. Ha! Where do these delusions start? But with a certain sharpness of mind at this particular moment I offer you a sort of payment--with the dough I’m saving each month (it’s going into a savings account) I’ll present you with three choices...when I return…-- A honeymoon in France (I’m not kidding) or the same in Bermuda--where I’ve always wanted to go--or three nights in a motel and no marriage. Take your choice.

        Nice that your folks are moving to Pomona--I think it’s one of the prettier towns in So Calif. In fact, I’ve thought of finishing my graduate work there--when I return to living.

        So Baby--all for now I guess. As you so aptly put it in your letters, I’m going to hit ye olde sack. A very happy birthday, belatedly, to you and please write real soon and real often.

Letters: February 1, 1951

            I guess I’m sort of a meathead for not writing for so long but I have a real good excuse so don’t blow your redtop. I have a feeling you’re irked at me and I’m truly sorry. 

Yes, I’ll marry you, but I was going to ask you first. Now to my excuse--I have, for the last month, been from one end of Japan to the other with a trip to Korea thrown in. I’ve really been on the go--and working too. Definitely not a pleasure trip. But now I’m settled in a way.

I’m no longer in Northern Japan--I have left that wonderful setup and am now stationed in Yokohama. As far as I know I’ll be here indefinitely. I’m ferrying planes all over Japan and that’s about all I do. Even layed off the drinking because I was drinking too much, which reminds me--I don’t want to go Stateside and find one each redhead the town lush. According to your letters I don’t believe there is any more liquor left in San Fran. And damn little in So Calif.

Received a real nice letter from Virge [Barbara’s sister] and I’ll write to her in the next few days. Also received your pictures and not bad hon, not bad. Incidentally I received a whole bunch of letters from you in one group--my mail finally caught up with me. That must have been a rough evening when you lost your school papers and couldn’t remember where--wow!

Glad to hear you will finally graduate within the next five or six years. Congrats, and what would you like for a graduation present?

Well honey--I have a flight coming up in about ten minutes so I had better get my clothes (flight) on. Keep on writing like you have been ‘cause it’s swell. Now that I’m settled I’ll write more regularly. Promise.

Give my love to--!! Hell, might as well keep it yourself. We don’t know anybody in San Fran except bartenders and bar girls. And I don’t think they want my love. Bye for now.

Letters: Dec 16, 1950

            Today I received your letter written Dec 3 but it, like the other one I’ve received, had to go through two APDs to reach me. But I got it. And, as you aptly put it, mail does mean a lot. I wrote you a few days ago, I think--liquor is beginning to fog my brain somewhat, or maybe I’ve been taking it too easy--I dunno.

Incidentally, your pointing out that I have a failing for losing redheads’ addresses proves a point for me--that all redheads are cute but wacky. I never forgot a redhead’s address. Some may have slipped my mind but I eventually remembered. And also, I wrote yours down and have it safely in my wallet. Including the card you sent me--neat for the beach place. Can we use it for a week when I get back? Okay, you make the arrangements.

Went to the show this evening. Saw “Saddle Tramp.” Not good, not bad. But it was a western and that’s good. All the movies we get here, plus mail, plus supplies, plus everything, comes from Tokyo by rail and it takes two days plus a six hour ferry ride from the island of Honshu to Hokkaido. I am really out in the wilderness--no kidding.

So sweetheart, guess I’ll close and write a little later--and you keep on writing--your letters and wackiness are terrific--bye now.