Page 2 10/8/1944
After the war I guess the Rangers who return to Trumbull better convert the club into a branch of the Veterans of World War 2 or some such affair. As you probably have already heard two noteworthy Americans have passed on this week – Al Smith, the “hahhp” (?) warrior and Wendell Willkie. Another tragic bit of news has saddened us all in this neighborhood most definitely and brings the war and its horrors pretty close to home. One of those dreaded telegrams came to the Laufer’s Wednesday with the news that young George Laufer had been killed in action in France on September 20th. He was only 21 and had been working on the repair of army trucks. No details are known as yet. A messenger boy from Bridgeport drove up in a taxi but finding no one at home went next door to the Pack’s. Mrs. Pack, not knowing what it was, told him to leave it, that someone would be home soon. Mr. Laufer found it stuck under the door. He at once phoned his daughter and she and her husband went down to Bridgeport where Mrs. L. was working and broke the news to her. There were two letters from George in the mailbox at Kurtz’s which they got after receiving the telegram.
I have tried in my letters to you all not to stress too much the dread and low spirits that will visit us at times, particularly when a longer period than usually lapses without word from you, and events like the above right in the neighborhood, don’t help to boost the home morale too much, so Dan particularly will understand why his letters are particularly helpful when they arrive at fairly short intervals. There is a lot said in the public press about the duty of those at home to write frequently to keep up the morale of the boys at the front. Admitted, but I think a word now and then should be said for the importance of the reverse and. And lest the rest of you who are not in France, should get the idea that these remarks do not concern you, let me say that the papers every day are sprinkled with news items about men in service right in this country who succumb to accidents, so PLEASE don’t forget to give the folks back home a bit of practical thought once in a while.
This week, as last, Marian and Dave kept the light burning. If now and again Dave, you get a little touch of “homesickness”, it may give you a sort of fellow feeling to know that your Dad at home also has a species of the same disease which no one has yet named but which I might term “boy sickness” or perhaps “son sickness”. The old house, which for so many years has resounded to the noise of footsteps and talk and laughter and pianola music, seems strangely quiet these days, but there, I must snap out of this mood and just add the banal remarks that I hope this European phase will be over soon. Dave expects that his outfit will be leaving for overseas duty in not too long a time. He based this assumption on the fact that those, unlike himself, who have not had furloughs, are not being given fairly long ones and in numbers. Last night, Dave, the phone rang and Rial Peck was at the other end. He seems to be a great guy and I think it was mighty fine of him to call. He says he bunks next to you and that you’re right on the ball. I won’t give up seeing you before you go overseas until there is no other alternative.
Marian says the weather is still hot down in Flora, but is due to change soon, but by that time they may be transferred elsewhere. Ced’s last Christmas package has finally reached them – – a furry pair of slippers for her and a cigarette case for Lad. Next time you write, Marian, I would be interested in hearing how your mother’s eyes are coming along.
I haven’t yet been able to get any action on the refrigerator affair, Ced, but will keep after it. Right now I couldn’t take care of any Alaska business if I got it. Several of the smaller Bridgeport manufacturers seem to be interested in the advertising agency service, and I can’t get help for the other end.
Tomorrow, some more Special Pictures.
On Monday I’ll start posting letters written by Dan in 1940 while he was in Alaska. I have been posting these out of order because I have recently gotten them from Dan’s daughter. This week will finish off the letters and the next time we roll around to his story line, I’ll be posting letters from 1942.