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.