Trumbull, Conn., Apr. 13, 1942
Mr. Cedric D. Guion, D. L. W.,
If you are possessed of normal curiosity you will be wondering what unknown degree has been awarded you in your long absence from civilization (if you can term what we are now living in by the term of “civilization”). Is it some scholarly recognition of your penetration of the far north to repair planes atop of glaciers? No. Is it perchance for proficiency in snoring, which, according to the reports of one C. Heurlin, has reached a high degree of proficiency in your case? Again no. And it can have nothing to do with an Eastern Railroad which has not yet extended its rails to Alaska. Then, by heck, what is it? It is a long overdue and well merited degree in delayed correspondence signifying in all its pristine simplicity, “Delay, Linger and Wait”. That you have fairly won this award none will dispute, and if Chapters III and IV of the Saga of Plane Glacier, are as long arriving as Chapter II, it may be that by Christmas of 1943 we may be nearing the final chapter. All of which is by way of mention, as you may have suspected, that we have not heard from you of late.
Yesterday as I returned empty-handed from a trip to the P. O. Box 7 to see if there might possibly be an airmail letter from Alaska, I ran into Tiny Sperling who informed me that Nelly (Nelson Sperling) was married to a girl from Boston, having taken the step upon being made Sergeant, was at an army camp in Florida, in charge of mechanical work on automotive equipment and would shortly start for Australia.
During the week I received a letter from Dan asking for funds so that he might have available cash to purchase a railroad ticket home, and instructing that it be sent to his new camp in North Carolina where he expected to be before the end of the week. Of course I complied with his request. Last night a little after 10:30 the phone rang and a voice informed me that “Your son Daniel is at the Bridgeport R.R. station”. Hastily donning a few clothes and gently leading the Buick out of its stall, I vaulted lightly into the saddle and Paul Revered it up to Plumbs, placed Barbara on the handlebars and raced for Bridgeport. From Dan I learned he had not yet left for North Carolina, had of course not received my check, but through a combination of borrowing from one of his buddies, talking the ticket agent into advancing him cash out of his own pocket, and selling some postage stamps back to the U. S. Government, he finally reached Bridgeport with enough left over to make two telephone calls. He is leaving in about an hour to go back to Fort Belvoir and expects that surely this week he will make tracks for North Carolina where the rumor is he will be on a surveying crew. His application for officers training is still pending, but as this is said to involve mostly combat training, he may, after finding what the life in the map making branch is like, prefer the latter. It all depends on what develops. He looks fine, is apparently enjoying himself and doesn’t appear to be suffering from ill health.
Tomorrow, the conclusion of this letter with updates on various family members. The rest of the week will comprise two more letters from Grandpa to the two sons away from home.