David Peabody Guion
Trumbull, Conn., December 9, 1945
While in theory I am glad you are busy — that being the best way to have time pass quickly, for with each passing day it brings that much nearer the time when you step on board the transport that will bring you back to the good old U. S. A. One has to be quite a philosopher, however, to let the theory overweigh the desire to hear from you, to know you are well and contented, and most of all, what the latest rumors are as to when you and your outfit are scheduled for the trip home. It seems quite a long time since we heard from you. The other day I talked to Franny Moore over the phone and of course she asked to be remembered to you, and a few days ago Peggy VanKovics also phoned and said she had not heard from you since October and was a bit concerned. I told her how busy you were and she wanted me to give you her best.
Ced is still with us but expects to start his long flight back to the frozen North tomorrow. He has been delayed by a cold he picked up here and also by not being sure his radio is working properly. I’ll heave a real sigh of relief when I finally get word from Anchorage that he has arrived back there promptly and SAFELY. We have all been up in his plane now, some of us several times. Aunt Betty even went up the other day. I really enjoyed flying with him, but just the same, that long trip back there alone, through all kinds of weather and over numerous mountains and all over strange territory, is quite a hazardous undertaking under the best of conditions. Well, here’s hoping.
The boys have repaired the stovepipe in the clubroom. I talked with Vicchiola for a few moments last night. As more of you older boys get back and can re-construct the original lineup, it will be much better.
Dick phoned Jean this afternoon that he starts separation proceedings Tuesday, will then proceed on his own to his Mass. Camp stopping en route a day or two in Trumbull, and expects to be out finally in about a week. She got so excited about the whole business that she upset the drawing board Dick had in the phone booth planning out the island house, pulled down the curtains and knocked the phone over and then fell and sat on it. Dick will have to develop another technique of telephoning good news to his wife or else she will have to take out additional accident insurance. It’s lucky the lightbulb was fastened up on the wall or she might have blown a fuse. Oh, well, one’s husband is likely to be discharged only once in a lifetime (we hope) from the Army, and even though she be battered and bruised, she still smiles. What’s that line about one’s head being bloodied but unbowed. That’s Jean all over.
So far, I suppose because I have been so confined at the office and the family exchequer is not only empty but in the red, I have not been imbued with the Christmas spirit so far. I did send you a few candy bars, chewing gum, etc., some weeks ago, but with even two or three of you away it won’t seem a 100% Christmas here and I don’t suppose it will be for you in Manila. However, the spirit of “goodwill to men” will mean as much as ever from all of us here to you, encouraged by the thought that it will be different next time. Until we see you then, good night, from
Tomorrow, a letter to Dan and Paulette written the same day as Dave’s letter.