Trumbull, Conn., Feb. 8, 1942.
Dear No. 2 boy and No. 3 boy:
This morning as I arose late, as is my wont of a Sunday morning, and glanced out of my bathroom window up toward the cluster of buildings we associate with the name of Knect, I saw but bare brown fields intervening instead of the snow-covered landscape. Only in our own driveway were isolated patches of ice to remind one that a few days ago a real winter landscape was our portion. The change is due to the fact that for the last two days a steady rain accompanied by a plus 32 degrees of temperature cleared the snow off into the swollen streams. (Exciting way to start a letter, n’est sai pas?)
We are at times driven to such little subterfuges as referred to parenthetically above by the realization that there is little news of importance to record and yet at the same time we are faced with the realization that both Alaska and Virginia are hanging on desperately waiting for news from home, as home, in turn, is waiting just as eagerly for news from you. I have lost track of the number of weeks that have passed since hearing from Ced.
Your letter, Dan, postmarked Fort Belvoir on Feb. 2nd is the last we have heard from you. The scissors and the three Spanish books you asked for were parceled and posted to you last week. I feel a bit guilty about not sending the $10 by return mail but as the scissors was the only item marked “urgent” and as you are quarantined for two weeks and unable to leave camp there didn’t seem any need for funds. For my guidance the next time you need funds will you please let me know whether you would have any bother cashing a check, as I would feel much safer mailing a check than I would five or ten dollar bills. Of course I could have sent you 10 one dollar bills at once but that seemed rather bulky. Anyway, to stop the argument here is the ten.
Now as to the income tax, sure I will pay it, if it is made out in ink and properly signed. The copy I saw, as I recall, was made out in pencil. Do you happen to recall what you did with either copy.
It seemed as though you were sober when you wrote the letter because it is quite rational and your sense of humor was very evident even to the addressing of the letter to me care of Aunt Betty, which little touch by the way she duly appreciated, but between that time and the time you put your return address on the back you must have bent your elbow too often resulting in a slight befuddlemenet of faculties in that Pvt. D. Guion gives his location as Co. D, 4th Btn. ERTC, Ft. Devens, Va. Oh well, we have to be understanding with these boys in love.
My last word of advice to you before we pass on to dishing out a few scathing remarks to Ced, is to be sure to get up in ample time in the morning so you won’t keep the captain waiting breakfast for you.
To Ced: As for you, you great big lanky backslider, is your brain so far from the writing finger on your long arm that it takes all this time to get an action message from one tother? First I blamed the delay to Uncle Sam but I’m getting a little suspicious along about now. Tell Rusty he better jack you up or I’ll be blaming him. Come on, loosen up and tell me what’s happened during the last month. I still have somewhat of a fatherly interest in you.
Aunt Betty sends her best to both of you, but this is one of the many things you may take for granted. Spring must be coming. I got a seed catalog yesterday and we turn the clock ahead tonight.
Tomorrow and Sunday, more Special Pictures.
On Monday, I’ll start posting letters written in 1944, a time when all five boys are scattered around the world helping out the war effort.
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