Trumbull, Conn. April 26, 1942
Tomorrow is registration day for the old fellows; in Trumbull it is to be conducted at the Center School. The high schools in Bridgeport are to be used for the same purpose so Dave has a holiday – – to work at the office. Along in May, some time, there will be a day when we will appear again at the school to apply for sugar registration cards, 1 pound per person every two weeks. On May 15th gasoline rationing starts. The powers have not decided whether the common people get 2 ½ or 10 gallons of gas per week, but between gas rationing and tire restrictions, it does not look as though there will be much auto driving this summer, and by the same token, Dan, I am wondering if the gas situation will induce you to change your mind about driving your car down to camp from here, as mentioned in your last letter. Dick says the car is in running condition and when I read your letter, I had an idea I would like to drive down with you to North Carolina and come home by bus or train after looking the place over, telling your general not to let you stay out nights and get your feet wet by leaving off your rubbers on rainy days, and in general putting my seal of approval on the new layout, but we can talk that over later.
Jack Philmon was in for a few minutes yesterday afternoon to see Dick. He looks fine, has gained 15 pounds and is with an artillery unit stationed at a new post on the North Carolina shore. Cy Linsley also called yesterday afternoon to have me witness his questionnaire. Arnold called one day during the week all dolled up in his Bridgeport emergency police uniform. It was rather amusing to see him in that outfit knowing his attitude in the past and recalling the many run-ins he had with the Trumbull police.
It has been a mild, balmy, sunshiny day and Dave and I started out at 8 this morning and walked all around Pinebrook Lake. We got home a little after 10, Dave to go to Church and I to get Sunday’s dinner. On the way back we stopped for a minute to talk to Mrs. Ives, who was weeding her flower bed, and learned that Mr. Ives is in Bridgeport hospital for observation and treatment. He still is troubled with swollen glands, a condition known as Hodson’s disease or some similar name. As long as he takes it easy he is O.K., but as soon as he does any work he develops a fever. X-ray treatment is being used to remedy the trouble.
Friday I attended a joint meeting of chairman of various Red Cross activities in the Town, and incidentally learned something that in the back of my mind I knew all the time but had evidently lain dormant, and that is the fact that the Red Cross is the liaison between the men in service and the home. For instance, when you, Dan, needed money to get home, you could have made arrangements with the local Red Cross field representatives. Their job is to solve family problems, providing relief where necessary, securing social histories and reports on home conditions required by military authorities in considering questions of medial and hospital treatments, discharge, furlough and clemency. Cooperation is also rendered in securing the return to duty of man, particularly first offenders who are AWOL. Claims both for disabled veterans and able bodies were necessary.
Red (Sirene) came home this weekend and he and Dick have been up at Plumb’s this afternoon starting to get the tennis court in condition. Dave stayed home to work on getting his wheel in condition.
Elizabeth and her two tykes just came in. They had been up at the Zabel’s and are going back. Zeke is fishing. He got a couple of trout last week.
Ced, it is so long since your last letter and so unlike you to cause me to get anxious that I am wondering if you have not written and for some reason or another the letter has failed to arrive. I have thought that, for war reasons, there might be a strict censorship on outgoing letters, but I can hardly believe that they would stop mail entirely, even though they might delete some of the things you might write. I reasoned that if you were ill or something, Rusty would write, still I cannot understand how you could be too busy to even drop me a card, knowing you are thoughtful and considerate of others. So in a word, you have me guessing. I have had only the one letter since you have returned from the glacier repair trip.
I would like, if possible, to hear from you in time to get off some little birthday remembrance that would reach you by June 1st, so if everything is O.K., drop me a line as soon as you get this, PLEASE, and tell me what would be welcome from home.
Lad has now about finished training a successor in his shipping department job, and the next step is to talk to someone in the company to learn what the latest news is regarding his draft status and whether he should proceed at once to try to get into the Naval Reserves.
There doesn’t seem to be any further items of interest I can think of to mention at this time. Anyway, it’s time to get a bite to eat for Aunt Betty, so I’ll close in the customary manner, by the usual method of signing off as
Tomorrow and Sunday, I’ll be posting more Special Pictures.
On Monday, I’ll move on to letters written in 1944, when all five of Grandpa’s sons are scattered around the world, helping Uncle Sam win the War.