Army Life – Marian Writes A Quick Note From Jackson – September, 1944


I believe this was the first formal photograph Lad and Marian had taken at a studio. I don’t think they liked it very much because they had another one done.


Dear Dad: –

I’m afraid this won’t be a very lengthy letter this week. We don’t have very much to report. Life goes on just about as usual – night classes continue – and the weather remains as hot as it ever was. We had three downpours today, but they didn’t cool us off very much. The natives tell us that this weather won’t last too much longer. By the time it changes, we’ll be transferred I guess, so in any case, we shouldn’t get a change of weather.

Did we tell you that the long-lost package from Ced finally arrived? It has been reclining in the Pomona Railway Express Office for lo these many months. It was none the worse for wear, however – and the presence of Christmas wrapping in September didn’t faze us one bit. It was still fun to open the package. I received a furry pair of slippers – real Alaskan models, and just a trifle too big, but I don’t mind in the least. They are very comfortable, and the fur lining will be wonderful in winter – and Lad received a wooden cigarette case, with a propeller-like top which swings around to reveal the cigarettes.

We were a little worried about Lad’s being able to get gasoline to drive back and forth each day – they are most particular, here, and give out very little extra gas – But due to Lad’s persuasiveness and the fact that he refused to believe them when they said “No” the first time, we now have a “C” book and one less worry.

Sorry this is so short. Maybe we can do better next time.

All our love,

Marian and Lad

Tomorrow, a letter from Grandpa to the Fugitives from a lumber camp.

Judy Guion

Army Life – Dear Dad – Marian Writes to Grandpa From Jackson, Mississippi – September 23, 1944

It is the fall of 1944, and Lad and Marian are in Jackson, Mississippi. Lad is an Instructor of Army Mechanics. Dan is in France, following D-Day, and reports about German atrocities. Ced remains in Anchorage, Alaska, where he is employed as an airplane mechanic and Bush pilot. Dick in in Santaliza, Brazil, and Dave is at Camp Crowder, preparing for a trip “to somewhere”. 


Marian (Irwin) Guion

MIG - Army Life - Marian Writes To Grandpa From Jackson Mississippi - September 22, 1944


Dear Dad —

The week is practically over and it suddenly occurred to me that we haven’t written to you as yet, so if this violent stationary of mine doesn’t put your eyes out, I’ll try to acquaint you with our latest happenings.

Which really aren’t very many. Things go on just about as usual – swing shift still in session. Lad’s working quite hard – he’s the only one of the instructors, I believe, who has classes right straight through until 1230. The others get off early two or three nights in the week. Consequently, it’s pretty tiring.

The photograph that I mentioned sending to you hasn’t gotten in the mail yet! Were awfully sorry, but there seems to be a shortage of boxes and cardboard around here, so that we are having difficulty trying to find something to wrap it in. But will get it to you eventually.

The hot weather is with us again, and believe me it is rather hard to take – it is so darned unpleasant being so “sticky” all of the time, and when the nights don’t cool off it’s hard to get decent sleep. Our only consolation is that the hot spells don’t seem to last very long.

If you have the opportunity, may we recommend Bing Crosby’s latest picture, “Going My Way”,    (  ) as a definitely “must see” for you. I think Aunt Betty would enjoy it, too, as well as Jean, for to our way of thinking, it is the best picture we have seen this year. The title is a little confusing, and it is hard to imagine Bing Crosby in the role of a priest, but he and Barry Fitzgerald do an exceptionally fine job in the picture. I saw it twice, and would thoroughly enjoy seeing it again. Perhaps you’ve seen it already. If so, I hope you enjoyed it as much as we did.

Incidentally Dad, we thought your last letter (Dated September 10th) was a “top – notcher” – particularly Dave’s reminiscent contribution. And to think it came from an ancient 18-year-old! You must feel exceedingly proud, Dad, when you receive such letters, and what satisfaction you must have, knowing that you were in a large part responsible for such perfectly grand results as five wonderful sons and an equally fine daughter.

Pleasant surprise! Lad just came home early (Wonder of wonders) and he is hungry, so I’d better get busy and fix him something to eat.

Lad brought your latest letter with him, tonight. The news of the hurricane was not too good, to say the least. It’s a shame about all those lovely trees. We hope that the house, however, is none the worse for wear.

Lad says to tell you he is going to follow through on Uncle Ted’s suggestion. We’ll keep our fingers crossed. It sounds wonderful as far as we are concerned – hope Uncle Sam feels the same way.

Love to all – Lad & Marian

Tomorrow, a letter from Grandpa to DARCD (code for all the boys in the family). This letter is filled with news about friends and family. For the rest of the week, I will post letters from Biss (Elizabeth, Grandpa’s only daughter) to Ced, another from Marian to the Trumbull folks, and another from Grandpa to his boys.

Judy Guion

Army Life – Marian Writes About A Move – September 14, 1944

Another letter from Marian to Grandpa keeping him up-to-date on the activities of the Lad Guion’s in Jackson, Mississippi.

MIG - Two From Marian In Jackson - On The Swing Shift - Sept., 1944Wednesday –

Jackson 9/14/44

Grandpa’s writing

Dear Dad: –

We’ve moved again, but not out of Jackson. Our new “home” is very much nicer than the first one, and we have kitchen privileges, so we don’t have to eat out. And from what we’ve sampled of Southern cooking, we are just as glad! Somewhere along the way I’ve been sadly misinformed about Southern cooking. (That’s not the only dissolution – I imagined sitting on the porch, sipping mint juleps and sniffing magnolias and honeysuckle! Something is definitely wrong! Mississippi is as dry as can be, and beer is a poor substitute for a mint julep!)

The couple who own the house where we are staying are very nice, and the house is furnished very nicely – Both of them work so we have the house to ourselves during the day.

For we are on the swing shift. Lad’s classes are from 3:00 in the afternoon until 12:30 at night. Consequently, he gets home at 1:30 or so and doesn’t have to report back to Camp until to the next afternoon. Although night classes are a little hard on the fellows, the day schedule would be worse, for he wouldn’t get off until 5:30 or 6 and would have to be back at Camp at 1 AM. So we are hoping the present schedule continues. He gets home every night and has from 12:30 Friday night until 2 PM Monday afternoon off. So far, at least – which is very nice indeed.

Our new address is 303 Longino, Jackson – but I think you might as well continue to send your weekly “morale – builder – uppers” to Lad at Camp. They are certain to reach us that way.

In case you are still wondering, the “we” I referred to in my letter written coming across the country, there were two of the wives who came with me and a two-year-old boy. We all lived at the same place in Pomona, so we decided to stick together and come here, too. We are living in a different part of town than they are, but it is very convenient to hop a bus now and go see them. ‘Cause afternoons and evenings give us a lot of spare time.

You are probably wondering what happened to the photograph we promised you. We have it with us and are sending it on to you. We’re sorry to say that they did too much re-touching, and that the proof was really a much better likeness than the finished product. But maybe you can hide it in some dark corner – at least, we tried – but we are not satisfied as yet – and will continue to try to get a better one taken – some time. And that’s a promise!

With all our love –

Marian and Lad

P.S. Lad tells me that September 11th was a very special day in your life. Please forgive our tardiness. Our best wishes for you are just as sincere and heartfelt as if we had been there to wish them in person.


Tomorrow and Sunday,  a very long letter from Dave – four pages. I’ll post about two pages each day. 

Judy Guion

Army Life – Marian Writes About Visit With Dave – September 14, 1944

Lad has been transferred from Santa Anita in California to Jackson, Mississippi. Marian has driven the Buick to join him.

MIG - Marian Irwin about 1942

Marian (Irwin) Guion

MIG -Two From Marian In Jackson - Meeting Dave - Sept., 1944

Tuesday –

Dear Dad: –

We had the grandest visit with Dave weekend before last. We finally made connections and were able to spend Saturday and part of Sunday with him. We wished that it could have been longer, but we had to get back to Camp. Dave was the plutocrat and if connections had been better, he would have come back with us (He had a three day pass.) But bus and train connections were simply foul, so we left him Sunday afternoon at the bus station where he got a bus to Fort Smith, and we drove back to Jackson.

Don’t you dare tell him I said so, – I don’t think he’d forgive me – but I think Dave is as cute as he can be. I’m so glad I got a chance to meet him. He and Lad are a great deal alike, aren’t they? I watched them walking down the street together and there was no question as to their being related (Was there ever????) That last remark of mine sounds most peculiar, but you know what I mean!) It just seems to me that the family resemblance is very strong between them. (They even stand the same way with their feet crossed! See what I mean??) Anyway, we had a grand time together and left with the fervent hope that it won’t be too long before we meet again under more favorable circumstances.

That old overseas question is getting closer and closer – we had so hoped that we could spend our first anniversary together, but we aren’t too sure now. But it gets closer and closer, so we might make it. In the meantime, we avoid the subject like poison, and talk of more frivolous things!!!!

Lad has applied for (and received) gasoline for me to drive to Connecticut, so one of these fine mornings I may come blowing in with the breeze. I’ll let you know more specifically exactly when I’ll arrive. (Looks as though I’m going to cash in that rain check very soon now).

Now that Lad is on the day shift again, and I have some spare time during the day, I’m working again. This time it’s at Woolworth’s and it is very enlightening, to say the least. It keeps me hopping trying to figure out what the customers want. Piece goods, for instance, or a shoe spoon. (Yardage and a shoehorn) And one customer (a Negro) came in today and asked for what I thought was a “straight comb.” I showed her everything we had, and even repeated it after her, but she still insisted that I didn’t understand. Turns out she wanted a straightening (straightn’) comb – to take the kinks out of her hair (Well, how was I to know!??!!!) Chalk it down to the liberal education I am receiving traveling over the countryside with my beloved husband.

Mom’s eyes are coming along just fine, Dad. When she first got her glasses she had difficulty distinguishing depth, and sometimes the walls seemed to be coming toward her, but she reports that she is getting used to them now, and every letter makes a reference to how much nicer it is to be able to really see again.

Love to all –

Lad and Marian

P.S. Last Sunday was such a beautiful fall day here. Lad remarked, “Gee, I’d like to be in Trumbull now.” Are the leaves turning color, or did the hurricane ruin them?


Tomorrow I will finish off the week with another letter from Marian to Grandpa and to folks at the Trumbull House/.

On Saturday and Sunday, more of Dave’s World War II Army Adventure. 

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Friends, Roamers and Countrymen (3) – News From Marian And Dan Paints A Picture – September 10, 1944

Marian Irwin

Marian Dunlap Irwin

And now some late news from Marian. “Practically a week since I’ve been here in the fair city of Jackson – – and high time that I got a letter written to you. On the last day of our trip we had tire trouble – – not too bad, really, and considering the roads we went over I’m surprised we didn’t have more. One of the trailer tires went out and we had to use the spare for the car, but as it was the last day of the trip I didn’t mind too much – – I was sure we could limp in for the last hundred miles and we did. We stopped by the Camp to see if we could reach the fellows by phone to tell them we had arrived safely, and while I was waiting in the Provost Marshal’s office for the message to be put through, the fellows arrived at the gate ready to go out for the evening. We really timed that meeting well and Lad, wonderful person that he is, had already found a place for me to stay, so I didn’t have any house hunting problems the very first night. We are looking now, however, for an apartment, but they are few and far between. I have plenty of time during the day, however, and if the weather were just a little cooler it would help a lot. It is awfully hot and very humid and the nights don’t cool it off at all. There are thundershowers quite frequently and they help a little. Lad’s present training set-up consists of night classes – – he is to do part of the instructing – – so I might be able to see him just on weekends. I’m waiting to see what Lad’s hours are going to be before I look for a job. It will help if I have something to do and also keep my mind off the foul weather. Two letters from Ced last week – – one written in March which failed to reach us at Pomona. He mentions a package we were supposed to have received, which we are tracing.

Daniel Beck Guion

And another letter from La France. “It is early morning in a coastal town, and I am sitting by a window of a second rate hotel near the waterfront. A dismal rain accentuates the drab grayness of the narrow street – four stories down. Most of the windows up and down the street are still shuttered tight from last night but slowly the place is becoming alive. Across the way, the door of a stenographer’s school is opened. One of the American soldiers greets the young lady who has appeared by saying, “Bon jour” in rather bad French. The girl looks up and smiles. “Cigarettes?” questions the soldier, holding up a package for her to see. She nods, still smiling. He tosses the package down. It lands in the street in front of the door. She runs out, picks it up, says “Thank you” in equally poor English, waves goodbye and disappears into the building. A few men pass by dressed in faded blue trousers and shirts, wearing dark blue berets. They are on their way to work – – perhaps to work for the Americans who have recently arrived. They seem quite oblivious of the rain as they pause in front of a shop to exchange a few words with the proprietor who is loitering in his doorway beneath a bedraggled French flag. A few more shutters are thrown open and I can see a woman shaking out the blankets of her bed. Down the street in the direction of the docks is a hotel with a gaping hole which reveals a mass of charred beams, rubble and a bed half hanging over the edge of the remaining foundation. The destruction has been wrought perhaps by the blowing up of the harbor installations, but more probably, by an American bomb before Jerry pulled out. Back up the street the woman has finished making the bed and is standing just inside the window fixing her hair. There is electricity in town but many of the houses must wait until the wires are repaired before they can have lights again. I hear above the drizzle of the rain a sudden splash on the pavement. Someone up the street has emptied a basin of water out of the window. All this I have just seen in the rain. But yesterday noon it was quite different – – the soldiers were forming a “chow” line; the street was alive with khaki, the rattling of mess kits, the voices of many children who played or watched nearby or even canvassed the line for “souvenirs”, bonbons, chewing gum, insignia, pocket knives, etc. A small girl stood near the rinsing pan, insistent that each passing soldier should permit her to dip his mess kit into the hot water and hopeful, of course, that she would be rewarded occasionally. Older folks stood in doorways looking on with amused tolerance.”

Dan         And that’s all this week. DAD

Tomorrow, a Birthday Poem written by Grandpa.

Judy Guion

Army Life – Dear Dad – Marian’s Arrival in Jackson, Mississippi – September 4, 1944

MIG - letter to Grandpa after arrival at Jackson, Miss., Sept, 1944


Marian Irwin Guion


Dear Dad: –

Practically a week since I’ve been here in the fair city of Jackson – and high time that I got a letter written to you. On the last day of our trip we had tire trouble – not too bad, really, and considering the roads we went over, I’m surprised we didn’t have more. One of the trailer tires went out, and we had to use the spare one for the car on the trailer, but as long as it was the last day of our trip, I didn’t mind so much. I was sure that we could limp in for the last hundred miles, and we did. We got our signals mixed and came into Jackson a different way than we had planned, so we stopped by the camp to see if we could reach the fellows by phone so that they would know we had arrived safely. While I was waiting in the Provost Marshal’s office for the message to be put through, the fellows arrived at the gate, ready to go out for the evening. We really timed that meeting well, and Lad, wonderful person that he is, had already found a place for me to stay – so I didn’t have any house-hunting problems the very first night. We are looking now, however, for an apartment, but they are very few and far between. But I have plenty of time during the day to hunt, and if the weather were just a little cooler, it would help a lot. We certainly can’t say very much for the weather down here. It is awfully hot and very, very humid, and the nights don’t cool it off at all. They do get thundershowers quite frequently, though, and they help a little.

Lad’s present training set-up consists of night classes – he is to do part of the instructing – so I might be able to see him just on the weekends. So far he has gotten out of camp every night, but he has to be back there by 1 AM. We think that after the training program gets going, these rules might be changed – we hope! Lad probably told you about the camp set-up here. If it weren’t for so many trivial rules and regulations it wouldn’t be a bad place. But as long as we are in the Army we take what is handed us without too much griping or fussing. It doesn’t do too much good, anyway, but it sometimes helps a little.

I’m waiting to see what Lad’s hours are going to be before I see about a job, but it will help during the week if I can have something to do. And maybe it will keep my mind off the foul weather.

On the way here, we drove right past the main gate of Camp Crowder, and I wished that I had had time to stop to see Dave. I wasn’t too presentable, but thought maybe he would excuse me. However, we were a little late so I didn’t stop – maybe it was just as well I didn’t as Dave was out on maneuvers then so I couldn’t have seen him anyway.

We received a letter from Ced last week, in fact, two of them. One was written in March sometime and failed to reach us at Pomona. He mentioned a package we were supposed to have received, so we have started tracing the missing link. Maybe it will turn up the way the picture did.

It’s almost time to meet Lad for dinner downtown so I’d better close – until next time.

All our love,

Lad and Marian

Tomorrow and Sunday I will post two letters from Dave to the home folks about his World War II Army Adventures. Sunday’s letter includes a surprise.

Judy Guion

Army Life – Dear Dad – Pomona to Jackson Via Wakeeny, Kansas -August 28, 1944

WaKeeny, Kansas,_Kansas

Saturday night

Marian Irwin Guion at Trumbull - 1945  (cropped)

Marian Irwin Guion 

Dear Dad, Aunt Betty and Jean –

Something tells me that this letter should be a clever epistle, containing references to cross country pioneering, etc. etc., but I’m afraid I don’t have the time or energy to think of something suitable. But I do want you to know that so far we have had a pretty good trip, we are making good time, the car and trailer are holding together, and that I am getting nearer and nearer to Jackson, Miss. (Hallelujah !!! It can’t be too soon for me)

We are traveling across the country by way of Route 40 and then will turn south at Kansas City and go practically straight down to Jackson (and I do mean Jackson – not the other place you might be thinking of –. Something tells me they are both alike in one respect – the weather). Except for the first two days, we have had a very nice trip. We had to get a new exhaust pipe the first day, and a new thermostat the second. But that is all and now the car is behaving beautifully. Incidentally, Lad doesn’t know about the new parts I had to get – I was afraid he might worry about the car and the shape it might be in, so I’m waiting until I can see him to tell him about it. He has enough to think about already. He left on Monday, by troop train, and I think they should have arrived today (Sat.) Surely they will be there by tomorrow, at the very latest. We expect to arrive in Jackson on Tuesday, if all goes well.

It has been a steady trip, but not particularly tiring. So far we have had excellent luck in getting gas and finding a place to stay each night. We hope our luck continues.

We have been through some very beautiful country. The Salt Lake desert is very hot and dry, but the past two days have been cool and comfortable. In fact, this morning we were downright cold. We were going through the Rockies and at one time, were at an elevation of 11,315 feet.

Will write and let you know our new address as soon as possible. We are keeping our fingers crossed hoping that we will be able to find a decent place to stay in Jackson. The uncertainty of the housing situation just adds a little interest to our travels. So far we have been very lucky.

With all my love,


P.S. – Isn’t Camp Crowder near Neosho, Mo?  ( ) We are going through Neosho, and if I had any way of finding Dave in a hurry, I’d love to stop and meet him. But knowing Army camps as I do, I’ll have to wait, I guess for a more opportune time. I’m really sorry, coming so close to his camp and not being able to stop –


Tomorrow, another letter from Marian to Grandpa written after she has been in Jackson for about a week.

On Saturday and Sunday, two more letters from Dave about his World War II Army Adventure.

Judy Guion

Army Life – Dear Dad – From Pomona To Flora – August 27, 1944



BOX 491


Sunday, August 27, ‘44


Flora, Miss.

Dear Dad: –

Well, as you probably have realized from the change of address card sent you from Pomona, I have moved and am holdup in the God – forsaken place known hereabouts as Flora. If you can’t find it on any map it is about 19 miles north of Jackson. We got in here after a train ride that entailed only one disconcerting factor, namely a hot box at 0300 Wed. morning and held us up a couple of hours while they rounded up another car and had us change over. We left Pomona Monday at 1700 and went northeast through New Mexico and Nevada and about 35 miles from Oklahoma City we changed from Santa Fe to Rock Island and went south to Fort Worth were we developed that hotbox mentioned earlier. At Fort Worth we turned east again and went via Illinois Central to Jackson and thence north to Flora. We got into Army Service Forces Training Center (ASFTC), Mississippi Ordnance Plant (MOP), at about 2400 Thursday and were allowed to sleep Friday morning until almost 0830. Friday we did very little and since we had no passes available, I went to bed Friday night after looking over a little of the Post. Saturdays we will get off at 1500 and so yesterday I took a pass and first went into Flora which is about 5 miles from the post. I went from door to door trying to get a lead on someplace, even if only a room, and was unsuccessful. I did get a line on a couple of places that should be fairly clean and nice which will possibly be vacant about the first of the month, but nothing immediately available and since Marian will probably be here about the middle of the week, I decided that I had better go into Jackson and see if I could find something there temporarily. I finally found a waitress in a restaurant who knew of a room that would be open beginning tomorrow and I went out to see the place last night and took it. At least Marian will have a place to go to. Here is the deal and why it is so hard to get a place. Jackson, with a population of 62,000 plus, is the center of an area here around which there are five large army camps and a small PW camp (prisoner of war). Therefore the population of Jackson swells on weekends to well above the 100,000 mark and during the week it is always crowded. Hotels and rooms are at a premium and if the girls get in fairly late they may have no place to stay. But that difficulty is settled now. I expect Marian about the middle of the week

That just about covers everything that has happened to us since you last heard from us in Pomona. I got a letter from Marian and she is coming east and had had no serious difficulties as far as Salt Lake City.

I got an absentee ballot from Helen Plumb today and I think that I’ll fill that out tonight and send it in. I’m on C.Q. today, and that is the first company duty I have had in a long, long time. I think the last I had was in Texarkana last February. You may send that package to me at this address, but it looks as though this may not last more than five or six weeks. I hope not. It is terrifically uncomfortable here due to the high humidity and the hot sun. And it doesn’t cool off here like it did in California. Southern California really is a nice climate and a very likable place. I hope that if we move anywhere else in the states it is back to the West Coast. I’m sitting here and the perspiration is running off me worse than it did in South America, and that is HOT.

Well, Dad, give our love to everybody (I know Marian would wish me to write for her too) and announce our new address. Until the next – –  Lad

Tomorrow and Sunday, a very long letter from Dave to his Father.

Judy Guion

Army Life – Dear Dad – Marian Writes to Grandpa – Still in Pomona – August 14, 1944

          Lad and Marian in Pomona, California



Dear Dad –

Yes – Here we are again. Still sitting in Pomona wondering what we’re going to do next. Evidentially there was too much publicity regarding the current move of the 142nd Battalion (practically everyone in Pomona knew about it!) – or maybe they were unable to get a troop train – or maybe just because. Anyway, we haven’t gone yet, although we are practically completely packed, and have gotten our gas coupons. But I refuse to unpack our things again, so as long as my last box of soap flakes holds out, we are all right. Lad’s sun-tans are receiving the best treatment of their lives – washed by hand, and in Lux, no less, but we are skeptical about sending them to the cleaners or the laundry for fear that we will move out suddenly and he won’t have anything to wear. Such a life! But we don’t mind – the longer they keep us here the better we will like it. We don’t dare get too optimistic, but the war news seems to be getting so much better that a week or even three or four days means an awful lot in the way of new developments.

Lad and I had a holiday yesterday. With another couple here at Pomona, we spent the day at Lake Arrowhead, one of the most scenic spots of Southern California. The Lake itself is at an elevation of 5125 feet, and is situated in a lovely forest. We spent a couple of hours out on the lake in a sailboat and had a perfectly glorious time. As three of us were land-lubbers from way back, Lad was the Skipper, and had to do most of the work. But he didn’t seem to mind, and in spite of the fact that we all came home with glorious sunburns, it was well worth it.

Thanks for enclosing those clippings of Ernie Pyle’s on the Ordnance Department, Dad. They were most interesting and reassuring – Lad has always said he wouldn’t be up at the front lines, if he did go across, but I’m still keeping my fingers crossed that he won’t be sent over, at least until they’ve stopped fighting over there. Is that too selfish of me? I know it would be a wonderful experience for him, but…..  !!!!

Who knows where our next letter will be mailed, but we’ll keep you posted.

All our love,


P.S. This page is supposed to be for Lad to add a word or two, but he seems to be quite busy now, working on our cameras. He says to tell you that he hasn’t forgotten you, and one of these days he’ll get around to writing you a letter – until then, he sends all of you his love.

M –

This Change of Address was sent to Grandpa. It is dated August 16th, sent August 19th, 1944. Lad’s new address is in Flora, Mississippi.

Tomorrow and Sunday I will post two letters from Dave’s World War II Army Adventure.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Sheiks (4) – A Message From Aunt Elsie Duryee – August 13, 1944

This is the final segment of a letter written by Grandpa to his sons scattered around the world.

Elsie May Guion, summer, 1946

Elsie May Duryee, Grandpa’s sister

And now here is a rather pleasant surprise – – the “outside viewpoint” in these weekly letters which has been absent for some time. I have the honor to present a veteran of the last war, an ex-Red–Cross worker, Miss E. M. Guion:

Hello, Folks! – a la Mickey Mouse. New York got too “hot” for me so I ran out on it for a week until the heat is off, and now I’m in hiding in Trumbull. When I arrived at the door last night, there, right on the mat before the door, was a hand-lettered welcome to me from the Guions, in stunning great big black letters. I felt really welcome.

Speaking above of me as a veteran of the last war, I am thinking that if Dan should somehow get to St. Nazaire, he might walk along the waterfront where there are dwelling houses and in one of them I lived for about three months while working at base hospital # 1 just outside the city. It was one morning in December, I remember, when the maid of the house came to bring a pitcher of hot water and as she closed the window she said she couldn’t understand why Americans wanted to keep the windows open all night. All this to say that if Dan gets to St. Nazaire, he might see if anything has happened to that row of little houses. I enjoyed my work there and had fun too.

The shop in New York is getting along. We serve many servicemen and when they buy things we absorb the tax ourselves – and 20% and 1% sometimes loom big, but that’s our bit that we can do for those who are doing so much for us. Well, so long and victory soon. From Elsie.

And that about brings us to the end of the page, with the usual goodbye and good luck, from                                      DAD

Tomorrow, a letter from Marian to Grandpa, explaining that they are still in Pomona, California, waiting for Uncle Sam to make a decision.  

Judy Guion