This is the last section of a rather long letter from Grandpa. He does quite a job on bringing everyone up to date on the local news . The first and second parts were posted on Monday and Tuesday, the 4th and 5th.
Extract of DPG: (David Peabody Guion) While I am waiting orders to be moved I’m working in the supply room of the company. They were short of men – – the supply clerk being on furlough – – so the first Sgt. asked me if I would mind working here instead of going to school. I said I would (or rather wouldn’t mind) and so I’m living the life of Riley, as you can see (I’ve got time to get off a few letters). I like this work – – you never know what is going to come up next. The supply sergeant is out in the company area most of the time making an inventory of all the company equipment so that leaves me in charge of the supply room.
Now for a few unexciting home commonplaces. It has been very hot and humid here for about three weeks steady, no rain, so that the grass is parched and brown like you may recall it has looked in times past in the middle of August. Today however, we had a brief windstorm with a small shower. This cools the air off but it is still humid.
I suppose you read about the terrible Barnum and Bailey fire at Hartford where the tent caught fire and because of the gasoline- paraffin waterproof mixture used in waterproofing, burned so completely and quickly that many people, including children lost their lives – – some so badly disfigured they were buried unidentified. The circus has returned to its winter quarters in Florida. I mention this because just a few weeks previously Elizabeth took her two youngsters to the same circus held in the same tent here in Bridgeport.
It is Jean’s birthday tomorrow but we celebrated it here in the usual manner, today, Biss being in attendance with her two little boys. (Zeke was attending a company outing).
Barbara (Plumb) has recently had a furlough in Italy and is now a Corporel.
Jean (nee Hughes) is home again in Trumbull.
I recently disemboweled the extracting mechanism of the furnace Stoker and found the two worms that eject the ashes have worn down to such an extent that the spiral fins are almost nonexistent being worn practically flush with the axle which turns them. I have ordered new worms but your guess is as good as mine whether I’ll be able to obtain them at all, or at least in time for the winter season. Toward the last of the season the firebox was continually filled with ashes and if the worst comes to worst I may have to put back the old grates and use the blower again.
Carl is on a big new tanker that has just taken a load of oil or gas to the far Pacific (Australia or New Zealand) and is on his way home again. The Bushey’s have moved into the little house opposite the Green where Danny Wells used to live. Coming down the hill approaching the Merritt Parkway overpass on Reservoir Avenue the other afternoon on my way home, and rolling at about 35 or 40 my right front tire suddenly blew out, twisting the wheel sharply to the right, so that I almost hit two posts guarding a culvert. Unfortunately I had no jack, so I had to walk some distance before I could find a phone and ask Ed Dolan to send his emergency car to the rescue. Now I am applying for a new tire. No jacks seem to be for sale anywhere in Bridgeport and the ones I have evidently are beyond repair, so California or Mo. P.X., please take notice.
Aunt Betty sends love, so does Jean, and as for me, well, you might know what to expect from DAD
Tomorrow and Friday, another letter from Grandpa to his absent sons and daughter-in-laws.