Army Life (1) – Lad’s Comments To His Dad – April, 1945


Sunday April 29

Rec’d 5/9

Dear Dad: –

I’ve received two more letters from you since I wrote last week. April 8th and 15th.

But before I go into any discourse on letters, how about a little local news?

Yesterday we had a rather freakish day which included sunshine, rain, snow, hail and ice. This morning there was ice here and there and a heavy frost covered everything. As I came to work the sun was just rising and there were pretty white clouds scudding across a very blue sky. A perfect October day wouldn’t have been any different, even as far as the smell of the air. Since, however, it has clouded over and a few flashes of snowfall


turning to water or disappearing on touching the ground. The temperature isn’t very much above 0°C. And we don’t have stoves anymore –!!

This present cold spell, reaching its peak early this morning, has been with us for most of this week, and somehow, somewhere, I found a germ. He attacked my throat and then crawled headward, but I believe I’ve got him stopped now.

The nicest day we’ve had, Tuesday, I took a pass and went to the same bomber base I wrote about before. This time I was successful and after many attempts (See Marian for details) I succeeded in going aloft. It was a B –26 and I flew higher than I’ve ever flown before, 10,105 ft. I watched the altimeter myself. Rather than repeat the whole story, I think the aforementioned source will


give you the details.

And now, your letters.

Mar. 25th – The first part of this one deals with one of my letters to you. Therefore, no comments. Then Dave’s letter. Apparently he didn’t go very far west on his first hop. His account of changing from a pollywog to a shellback is very interesting, and educational. I’d like to cross the “line” to, sometime, but under different circumstances. Then comes Dan and Paulette. That really was a very nice letter and raises Paulette in my already high estimation. I disagree, however, with your own view about of what Paulette might gather or expect of Trumbull and the actuality. And I believe I form my opinion without prejudice. Dad, Trumbull itself, has something that is not visible until


it can be seen. Something very lovely and attractive which is a combination of lots of things, and an exact duplication can’t be found anywhere else. I can now see what the Peabody’s and so many others saw that makes it such a lovely place. And that “ordinary, rather homely everyday individual well past the noon of life” is a rather incomplete picture of you. “Beauty is only skin deep” and it is that which is below the skin; the depth of a person; which makes one as he is. You, my dear Pop, could never be judged by what can be seen in a mirror. So, I still believe it would be hard to exaggerate Trumbull as a town and “Babbling Brook” as the Guion household. No I’m sure Paulette would have no


misgivings on those points. For the inhabitants, I can’t say very much, with certain exceptions.

Tomorrow, I’ll be posting the rest of this letter. On Friday, a letter from Biss to Ced in Alaska.

On Saturday and Sunday, I’ll be sharing more early memories of Trumbull.

Judy Guion


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