Army Life – Lad Sends A V-Mail To Dan – July 20, 1945

Lad sent this V-Mail to Dan five days after Dan and Paulette’s wedding in Calais, France.  Lad returned to his Base in southern France and discovered that the Battalion had left without him.  More on this story later.

Army Life - Lad Send A V-Mail to Dan - July 20, 1945

S. France – July 20, 1945

Dear Dan: –

While I was gone it happened and I’m part of the rear detachment, so you had better not plan to try to see me.  I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do about it.  Better luck next time.  Will probably see you after this is all over.  Had no trouble getting back at all.

I think Paulette is swell, and I really had a lot of fun even if it was a little bit hectic.

Hope you get a chance to go home before long and that Paulette can follow you soon.  I think she’ll be able to adjust herself in a few months, but will probably miss France for quite a long time.  She will be well liked at Trumbull, anyhow, I know.

If you get a chance will you drop Marian a line?  She’d be interested in knowing about Al’s plans, at least as much as you know.

Give my love to “Chiche” when you see her and I’ll be seeing you both sometime soon.  Be careful.  Lad

This is the last communication from lad.  The next letter I have in sequence is a letter dated September 2nd from Grandpa addressed “Dear Benedicts and Bachelors”. During this time frame Lad came home to Trumbull.  There is no letter explaining how this happened so I’m going to let Lad  tell you in his own words, which I recorded on one of my trips to California.

LAD – Dan and I were both in France in 1945.  I had been corresponding with Dan and I knew he was going to be married on a particular day, I’ve forgotten what it was, I think it was in mid-summer.  I talked my Captain into a three-day pass but it was limited to Paris.  That was as far as I should go.  So I went to Paris and checked into the (Hospitality) Hotel.  I left my duffel bag there and put a little sack in my pocket with a toothbrush and that’s about it, I guess, maybe a comb, too.  I decided to try to get to Calais (where Dan was to be married).  I didn’t know how far it was, maybe 50 or 60 miles from Paris, north of Paris, up on the coast.  I got a ticket on a train and the train went about 5 or 6 mph  for about 10 or 15 minutes, then it stopped.  It stood there for a long, long time, then it went a little further and it stopped again.  I was noticing that cars kept going by so I got off the train and hitchhiked.  I beat the train by a day.  I didn’t have much trouble hitchhiking.  An English soldier came along on a motorbike and asked me where I wanted to go.  I told him Calais.  He said, “That’s not far.  I’ll take you up there.”  So that’s how I made the last two thirds of the trip to Calais.  I had no trouble finding the house; it was Chiche’s mother’s house, her mother and father’s house.  He was a pharmacist.  It was fairly late in the afternoon when I got there.  I stayed the night and the wedding was the next day. The third day, my pass was up but I didn’t hurry to get back.  I went back to Paris on the train, and this time, it went pretty well.  I grabbed all of my equipment out of the Hospitality Hotel and checked out.  I took the usual bus to go from Paris to Marseille, but by this time, I was one day over my pass.  When I got back to camp there was nothing there, just damaged grass and fields.  Everything was gone!  I finally found an officer who was walking around and asked him what had happened.  He said that everybody had shipped out, Saturday, I guess it was, or Sunday.  I told him my name and he said, “Oh, yeah.  They tried to get a hold of you but the Hotel said they couldn’t find you.”  So he told me where to go and what to do.  I went to the location he told me about and they knew all about me.  There was another fellow there, Bob Marks.  I was with the 3019th and he was with the 3020th.  He had been left behind to gather all the equipment.  I said, “That’s what I’m supposed to do.”  So Bob and I got together and found our equipment, we both belonged to the 149th Battalion.  We got all the equipment rounded up, got it to the dock and finally were able to get a ship that would take it to Okinawa.  I think it took us close to a week to get everything ready and get aboard.  We started out but when we were about 200 miles from the Panama Canal, the word on the PA system was that the US had dropped a bomb on Hiroshima.  We got the message in the afternoon, and the next morning the ship turned around, went back out to the Atlantic and up the coast to New York.  After I returned to New York I was stationed at Fort Dix.  I didn’t know how many months, a couple or three months.  They didn’t know what to do with me.  I went home every weekend and came back on Monday.  Finally they said to me, “We don’t know what to do with you so you might as well go home and get discharged.”  So that’s what finally happened.

For the rest of the week I will be posting Grandpa’s letters to the Benedicts and Batchelder’s.

Judy Guion

World War II Army Adventure (127) Dear Gang – April 9, 1946

DPG - Dave in uniform

David Peabody Guion

Manila, P.I.

April 9, 1946

Rec’d. 4/16/46

Dear Gang –

Yep, still here.  Rumors still say we are to leave here April 13 – but the Gen. Heinzelman still hasn’t arrived.  I have three letters here which I shall answer.  The first is one written on Feb. 6 and send to Dan by mistake.  As this is all about the office, I’ll wait till I get home before I answer it.  I was glad to get a report on how things are shaping up, though.  The second was written on St. Patrick’s Day.  It contained little news but was nevertheless important.  A letter is a letter – even if it’s a short one.  I hope you all enjoyed yourselves in New York with the Stanley’s.  Wish I’d been there.

This third letter quotes a letter of mine in which I tell of being relieved of duty.  This one, I presume, is to be the last I received.  It was written March 24 and said that you are sending a copy to Aunt Dorothy in case I didn’t get it here.  By the way, thank you for Aunt Dorothy’s new address.  She sure does get around.  I probably wouldn’t have been able to find her if I hadn’t gotten this letter.  This brings me to your predictions on my arrival date in Trumbull.  The day before I received your letter, I set a date in my mind – a goal so to speak.  Figuring on leaving here Saturday (the 13th), and taking seventeen days across the Pacific (April 30), seven days across the country (May 7), three days in Fort Devens (the 10th) and one day to get home (May 11 – say 3:30 or 4:oo P.M.), my guess would be the same day as Lad’s.  The only trouble is that with this plan I’m allowing no time for the inevitable delays in Army transportation.  I’m figuring on no time in Calif. And I don’t think seven days ‘cross country is particularly slow for an Army troop train.  If I leave Saturday, though, I most certainly should be home sometime during the week of May 12 to 18.

My thanks to Lad for any and all work done at the office. I know you’ve been up to your neck, Dad, and I guess you had real need for the help.  Anything Lad does now will make it easier for me, too – so “Thanks, again, Lad.”

It looks to me as if Dan is having as much trouble getting to England as I am having trying to find a ship with my bunk on it.  I hope Dan’s nerves aren’t taking the beating mine are.  I’ll have had three weeks in the Depot next Saturday.  The usual wait is three to five days.  And to top it all off there’s no shoulder to cry on.

Guess this does it for this time.  When I get definite news that I’m leaving Saturday I may not have time to write – but I’ll try to say something even if it’s just – “I’m leaving”.  So – “till we meet again” –

Dave

Tomorrow I will begin posting a week of letters written in nineteen forty-five.  On Monday I’ll post a quick V-Mail from Lad to Dan.  The rest of the week will be devoted to a five-page letter from Grandpa to Benedicts and Bachelors. Judy Guion

World War II Army Adventure (126) – Dear Dad – Neglecting to Write – April 5, 1946

My Uncle Dave is getting impatient to get back to Trumbull.  This letter explains his frustration.

World War II Army Adventure (126) Dear Dad - Neglecting to Write - April 5, 1946

Manila, P.I.

April 5, 1946

Rec’d. Apr. 15

Dear Dad –

I’m truly sorry for neglecting to write at such an important time.  I left for the Depot on schedule just as I wrote.   But there wasn’t room for me on the boats that were here at the time.  I’ve been waiting at the Depot ever since.  As things stand now, I will leave here sometime around the middle of the month, getting into Frisco the first week in May.  I should be home around the middle of May.

The ship I’ll probably sail on is the General Heinzelman.  It’s arrival in Manila and it’s estimated time of arrival in the states is not yet definitely known because of storms in the Pacific.  But you can be pretty sure of seeing me is sometime between the fifteenth and twentieth of May.

I am well and unhappy – this business of waiting three weeks for a ship isn’t easy.

Don’t be surprised if I’m a little thin when I get home – hot weather never did agree with me, and I had fourteen straight months of it.  But it’s nothing that a little of your cooking won’t fix up in a short time.

See you soon –

Dave

P.S. Written in a hurry – hope you can read it.

Tomorrow I will be posting another letter from Dave to the Gang in Trumbull. 

Judy Guion

Army Life – Dear Dad – Marian Writes to Grandpa – October 26, 1944

Blog - Marian Irwin - 1942

Thursday

10/26/44

Dear Dad –

I wish I could arrange to have one day when I write to you and Mother and Dad, but somehow I always manage to hit a different day of the week. I suddenly realized that here it is Wednesday or Thursday, and still no letter written to you. And even tho’ they are often times just one thin page, I do like to write every week.

Altho’ I wonder sometimes just how I can make them interesting, or at least newsy. It seems as tho’ there isn’t much happening in the way of special events, and except for the now familiar “time bomb” feeling that is such an important item in our daily life, everything else goes along very much as usual.

The battalion has been issued new clothes, and they have been given until Nov. 1st to dispose of their cars, but it seems to me we went through this routine once before at Pomona, and look how long it took us to get out of there! Nevertheless, we are rearranging and packing as much as we can, so that I can leave here on a moments notice. We haven’t the slightest idea which P.O.E. (Point of Embarkation) the fellows will be sent to, but in case it is New York, or its vicinity, I’d like to be around there as quickly as I can get there, in case Lad has a chance to get away for even a few hours.

Unless we send you a telegram to the contrary, will you forward our check as soon as it arrives, the way you always do? But I think you had better send it to me at 303 Longino, in case the fellows are restricted and I can’t get in touch with Lad. He would have to mail it to me and it would take just that much longer. Our other check goes to California so I’ve asked Mom to mail it to you. Will you please hold it there until you hear from us? For all we know, I might be there by the time it arrives, but we don’t know for sure.

Everything else is pretty much the same. We are having some lovely fall weather, but we need a good hard rain to clear the air and settle the dust. I hope it doesn’t reach the proportions of your last storm, however!

Love to all from

Lad and Marian

Tomorrow and Sunday I will be posting letters written by Dave about his World War II Army Adventure.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear G.I. Joe – News From Dave and Marian – October 15, 1944

ADG - Jean Guion, Aunt Betty and Grandpa outside in winter, Ja. 27, 1945 (2) Aunt Betty only

Aunt Betty Duryee

Trumbull, Conn.,  October 15, 1944

Dear G. I. Joe:

(and of course Ced and Marian also)

There is little of interest to report this week in the way of local importance.  We celebrated Aunt Betty’s birthday Wednesday, which by a strange coincidence was her birthday.  The day before she was thrilled by getting an appreciative birthday letter from Dave, and the day after one each from Lad and Marian, so it turned out to be a sort of three-day celebration.  In commemoration of passing her 81st milestone she had the day before signed a new will and also took the bandage off her leg.  I don’t think I told you in any of my previous letters that a week or so ago, while carrying the kitchen stove in one hand and the dining room table in the other, she slipped just outside the telephone booth where the dining room has ambitions of becoming a 2nd story into the living room, and sprained or bruised her knee.  The public health nurse was summoned and told her to bathe it and if this was not effective within a short time, to see a doctor.  The pain still persisting, she did see a doctor one day through Catherine’s courtesy.  Her leg was strapped and she was told to keep off it as much as possible and avoid going up and down stairs.  As aforementioned, the leg having improved under this treatment the day before her birthday, the bandage was removed and she is now practically O.K. again.

In a letter received from Dave this week (and also in Lad’s letter to Aunt Betty) there was an announcement of a pioneer’s movement gradually closing on Marian.  When General Dan’s army of occupation and General Dick’s Brazilian contingent close in on the flanks, the encirclement will be complete.  For the benefit of those of you who are not as familiar with military strategy, I will explain to you layman that this means that the APG’s and DPG finally met, having compromised on a halfway meeting place, sort of a Teheran conference in the Guion annals.  The news dispatch of the proceedings is as follows: “Well, at long last I’ve met my 2nd sister-in-law.  I got a three-day pass for Saturday, Sunday and Monday to Little Rock, Ark., and left camp Friday night.  Lad got a week-end pass good until Monday morning.  We met about 9:30 Saturday morning.  I spent all day Saturday and Sunday morning with them.  I like Marian very much — but who doesn’t?  Lad looks fine and everything was perfect — except that I was going to go back to Miss.  with them until we found the connections were so poor.  (You see they had driven up to Little Rock in the Buick).  I left them at 12:30 Sunday noon.  I spent the night at the Salvation Army USO at Ft. Smith where I am now.  A bus at noon to Fayetteville, where I will spend the afternoon and evening, thence by bus to Neosho.  I expect to reach camp at 5:30 tomorrow morning.  I just figured out that on a 3-day pass I could come to Trumbull and stay for almost an hour if you could meet me at the Railway station.  I’ll soon be going through Van Buren, Bob Burn’s hometown.  This trip is taking me through the Ozarks where there certainly is some beautiful scenery.  These Ark. towns are certainly “Western”.  All the Juke boxes play Bradley Kincaid — Ced would love it here.”

Marian again has earned her right to maintain her title, but best of all was the long-expected photo of Lad and Marian, and it was well worth waiting for.  Thank you both very much.  I didn’t reply by air mail to your letter as to what Dick might want because both Jean and myself are absolutely at a loss what to send in our own boxes, so you’ll just have to “shut your eyes, grab hard and trust in the Lord”.

No other letters.  I’ve waited so patiently now for more news from Dan and Ced.  I hope it won’t be long now.

DAD

Tomorrow, a letter from Marian.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Jack Armstrong, The Aaaaaal American Boy (2) – Sad News For A Close Neighbor – October 8, 1944

Trumbull House - Maple tree taken down in Hurricane of 1944 - view towards litle drive way

Page 2    10/8/1944

After the war I guess the Rangers who return to Trumbull better convert the club into a branch of the Veterans of World War 2 or some such affair. As you probably have already heard two noteworthy Americans have passed on this week – Al Smith, (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Al_Smith) the “hahhp” (happy –  https://www.irishtimes.com/opinion/the-happy-warrior-an-irishman-s-diary-on-al-smith-and-the-1928-us-presidential-campaign-1.4034157) warrior and Wendell Willkie. Another tragic bit of news has saddened us all in this neighborhood most definitely and brings the war and its horrors pretty close to home. One of those dreaded telegrams came to the Laufer’s Neighbors right across the street) Wednesday with the news that young George Laufer had been killed in action in France on September 20th. He was only 21 and had been working on the repair of army trucks. No details are known as yet. A messenger boy from Bridgeport drove up in a taxi but finding no one at home went next door to the Pack’s. Mrs. Pack, not knowing what it was, told him to leave it, that someone would be home soon. Mr. Laufer found it stuck under the door. He at once phoned his daughter and she and her husband went down to Bridgeport where Mrs. L. was working and broke the news to her. There were two letters from George in the mailbox at Kurtz’s which they got after receiving the telegram.

I have tried in my letters to you all not to stress too much the dread and low spirits that will visit us at times, particularly when a longer period than usually lapses without word from you, and events like the above right in the neighborhood, don’t help to boost the home morale too much, so Dan particularly will understand why his letters are particularly helpful when they arrive at fairly short intervals. There is a lot said in the public press about the duty of those at home to write frequently to keep up the morale of the boys at the front. Admitted, but I think a word now and then should be said for the importance of the reverse end. And lest the rest of you who are not in France should get the idea that these remarks do not concern you, let me say that the papers every day are sprinkled with news items about men in service right in this country who succumb to accidents, so PLEASE don’t forget to give the folks back home a bit of practical thought once in a while.

This week, as last, Marian and Dave kept the light burning. If now and again Dave, you get a little touch of “homesickness”, it may give you a sort of fellow feeling to know that your Dad at home also has a species of the same disease which no one has yet named but which I might term “boy sickness” or perhaps “son sickness”. The old house, which for so many years has resounded to the noise of footsteps and talk and laughter and pianola music, seems strangely quiet these days, but there, I must snap out of this mood and just add the banal remarks that I hope this European phase will be over soon. Dave expects that his outfit will be leaving for overseas duty in not too long a time. He based this assumption on the fact that those, unlike himself, who have not had furloughs, are not being given fairly long ones and in numbers. Last night, Dave, the phone rang and Rial Peck was at the other end. He seems to be a great guy and I think it was mighty fine of him to call. He says he bunks next to you and that you’re right on the ball. I won’t give up seeing you before you go overseas until there is no other alternative.

Marian says the weather is still hot down in Flora, but is due to change soon, but by that time they may be transferred elsewhere. Ced’s last Christmas package has finally reached them – – a furry pair of slippers for her and a cigarette case for Lad. Next time you write, Marian, I would be interested in hearing how your mother’s eyes are coming along.

I haven’t yet been able to get any action on the refrigerator affair, Ced, but will keep after it. Right now I couldn’t take care of any Alaska business if I got it. Several of the smaller Bridgeport manufacturers seem to be interested in the advertising agency service, and I can’t get help for the other end.

DAD

Tomorrow, another letter from Grandpa to G.I. Joe (and of course Ced and Marian also). On Friday, another letter from Marian with the latest happenings for the A.P. Guions in Flora, Mississippi.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Jack Armstrong, The Aaaaaal American Boy (1) – Trumbull Gossip – October 8, 1944

Trumbul house - Maple Tree taken down in Huricane of 1944 (front porch steps

Trumbull, Conn., October 8, 1944

Dear Jack Armstrong, the aaaaaal American Boy:

Of course if you haven’t been listening to the radio lately and followed the adventures of this wonderful youth who accomplishes so much on a diet of Wheaties, you will fail to get the full implication of the compliment being paid to you in being so addressed. Be that as it may, you may rejoice that the blood of pioneers flows in your veins and you may hand down to posterity that your sire at the age of sixty swung a lusty axe, and un-dismayed by hurricanes that back in these days visited the section known as New England, and in spite of blisters, tackled the job single-handed with such vigor that he even hit himself on the forehead with an axe (fortunately it was the broad end) due to swings so mighty that he literally fouled electric light wires (you needn’t mention that they had been brought low by a tree falling on them). However no harm was done either to wire, forehead or axe, save perhaps a little injured dignity. In other words, much of the brush has been cut away from the smaller limbs and what now remains is the sawing of the big trunks which would probably be accomplished much more satisfactorily with the aid of certain soldiers now in the U.S. Army or an Alaskan pilot-mechanic. The next step would then be an S O S for a certain technical expert who already has in his mind the plan for mounting a circular saw to be operated by an auto motor and thus make short work of the ten foot pile of logs and branches that still have to be sawed to length – – thus adding home improvement #3 to #1 Method for flattening tin cans, and #2 Blower for outdoor incinerator. Up to this point however I must confess it is Dan whose services I have missed most, and hearing his cry of T-i-m-b-e-r as another denizen of the forest succumbs to his well-placed strokes, might even be surprised by the stamina, initiative and sustained devotion to the job that Dick and Dave might evince after working a while for Uncle Sam. However, I guess that’s enough of this which might be entitled “much ado about nothing”.

Now e’ill move over into the subject of hometown gossip. Lad’s friend, Myron Whitney is, or was a short while ago, in a Bridgeport Hospital where he was taken for treatment of some bad burns when a steam line burst in the plant where he is working and scalded him. Dan will be interested to know that there is a young man who met Barbara in Italy and seemed enough smitten with her to come to Bridgeport to meet the Plumb family and stayed there several days (perhaps the entire time of his furlough) as I understand his father and mother are both dead. I have not been informed whether the feeling on Barbara’s part is mutual. Carl, I am informed, Ced, is now on a transport. Charlie Hall is somewhere south of the equator in the Pacific area, which is about as much as Jane (Claud-Mantle, neighbor and friend to the older boys) knows about it. This morning, Dave, Bob Jennings, McClinch and Ed Young, all in sailor outfits, came to call on Catherine. (Catherine Warden, who lives in the apartment in the Trumbull House with her two children, Skip and Susan, her husband currently in the Armed Forces) Bob says he will be in Sampson for about six months, McClinch has sailing orders for the 18th of this month and Young is at Sheepshead Bay in Brooklyn. The club has all but passed out. The place is a wreck. It looks like what I imagine a gambling joint looks like after being raided by the police. Broken glass scattered all over the floor, playing cards strewn in every direction, furniture out of place. It is probable that not all this mess is attributable to the members, as I came home one day and found Skip and Susan in there having a most delightful time, throwing things around, down the stairs and in general having a riotous time. It seems that a couple of boards in the little cubbyhole door at the back had been ripped off and the children had gotten in that way and were playing “the wreck of the Hesperus””, the Sacking of Rome, or maybe to be up to date, the bombing of Berlin.

Tomorrow I will post the rest of this letter.

Judy Guion

Army Life – Dear Ced – Thanks For The Christmas Presents – October 2, 1944

We have jumped to 1944. Lad nd Marian are in Flora, Mississippi, where Lad is training mechanics for the Army. Dan is in France following the D-Day Invasion, Ced remains in Anchorage, Alaska, working as an airplane mechanic, Dick is at Forteliza,  Brazil, acting as a liaison between the Army and the Local employees, and Dave is at Camp Crowder, Missouri, receiving advanced training but expects to be going overseas in the not-to-distant future.

Marian Irwin

Marian (Irwin) Guion

Army Life - Dear Ced - Thanks For The Christmas Gifts - October 2, 1944

Tuesday

(10/2/44 – JGH)

Dear Ced: –

The lost has been found. After collecting dust in the Pomona Railway Express Office for about eight months, your Christmas gift to us was forwarded here last month. And nonetheless welcomed and appreciated in spite of the long delay. Lad’s cigarette case was put into immediate use, and although the weather has been terrifically hot up to now, the last few days have cooled off sufficiently for me to believe that very soon now I can put my slippers to work. They are a little big, sad to relate, but I don’t walk out of them, so I intend to put them to use as soon as we have a frosty morning. Incidentally, do they soften up with use? And what are they made of? They look and feel as tho’ they would last a lifetime.

We had a very pleasant weekend this last week. (Sounds peculiar, but you know what I mean!). After various telegrams to and fro, we finally made connections and were able to spend most of the weekend in Little Rock, Ark. with Dave. He had gotten a three-day pass from Camp Crowder, and Lad had gotten a weekend pass, so, as Little Rock was practically the middle point from camp to camp, we drove up and Dave came down on the bus. We toured the town of Little Rock Saturday, Saturday night, and Sunday until now, when we had to leave to get back to Jackson. Now I’ve had the pleasure of meeting three of the Guion boys – two more to go. I could see more of a resemblance between Lad and Dave than I could see between you and Lad. I think I could pick them out as brothers from any crowd, but I’m not so sure about the rest of you. I hope it won’t be too long before you can all be together once more and I can line you all up to see who’s who.

MIG - Letter to Ced re Christmas gifts and Dave at Little Rock - Oct., 1944

Our life is still as unsettled as ever, but Lad’s hours are pretty swell so we don’t do too much complaining. Lad has been spending most of his spare time working on the car. Remember when we had to have the clutch fixed in Texarkana? Well, they didn’t do a good job of reassembling it. Consequently, the gears have grated and clashed for the last 12,000 miles. So Lad finally found the time and a garage where he could work so he took the whole thing apart and fixed it. She works like magic, now, and what a relief not to have all the noise every time we shift gears. The only reason we would like to go back to Texarkana would be to tell those garage mechanics what we think of them!

How’s the flying coming along? When we were at Little Rock, we went out to the airport for a while. Dave is most enthusiastic about planes and flying – and Lad always has been, too – so in that happy post-war time, you are going to be busy teaching your brothers to fly! Possibly me, too!!!

Thanks again for your Christmas gifts. If you can find the time, write and let us know what you are doing.

As always,

Marian,

P.S. Me too —- Lad

Tomorrow I will be posting two letters from Grandpa to his sttered children.

Judy Guion

World War II Army Adventure (125) – Dear Gang – March 22, 1946

World War II Army Adveture (125) - March 22, 1946

March 22, 1946

Manila, P.I.

Rec’d 4/5/46

Dear Gang –

This is it! Well, it’s a start anyway.  Tomorrow I leave for the Pepple Depple (Army slang, People Depot, where the men start their journey to wherever they are going).  I should be on my way home within two weeks – possibly it will be only a few days.

I’d planned on getting some things as presents to bring home – but my time came to suddenly.  In fact I’m rushing right now.  So I’ll close this.  It may be my last ’til I get home – so –

Be seein’ ya,

Dave

Tomorrow I begin posting a week of letters written in 1944. As usual, Grandpa informs his sons (and daughter-in-law) of the latest gossip in Trumbull and includes quotes from letters written by  Dave and Marian.

Judy Guion

World War II Army Adventure (124) – Dear Dad – March 15, 1946

Dave is getting closer and closer to his long anticipated trip back to Trumbull.  He has been in the service for two years and two months but it will be another two months before he actually enters the kitchen at the Old Homestead.

DPG - Dave in uniform

David Peabody Guion

March 15, 1946

Manila, P.I.

Rec’d 3/22

Dear Dad –

I’ve got three or four letters here that should be answered but it’s already one A.M. on the sixteenth so I’ll just bring you up-to-date on things at this end and write you a regular letter some other time.

Last Sunday I was relieved of duty – I’m no longer working.  My job now is to sit and wait for my boat to come in.  Had I written last night, I’d have told you that I expected to leave sometime next week.  But tonight I found out that present shipping facilities don’t call for a berth with my name on it.  So now all I can tell you is that I’m waiting and that I hope it won’t be for longer than a couple of weeks.  However, this is the Army.  I can console myself with the fact that at least I’ve been considered this time – at least I’m near the top of the pile at long last.

I’ve spent this week in vacationing.  Monday I went to Corregidor and saw utter and complete destruction.  Tuesday I went to Wah-Wah Dam where there had been a bitter battle (so help me I didn’t write “bitter battle” on purpose – but it is clever (even if I say so myself)).  The whole of Wednesday was spent on a bus and, after we hit the mountain road, a truck in a successful attempt to get to Bequin, the summer capital of the Philippines. Baquin is, or was, a most beautiful city some 200 miles north of Manila nestled in mountains and fir trees.  I used three blankets at night to keep warm.  After I get home I’ll tell you of a most unusual custom of the Iqorot natives up there.  They eat dogs for food – but I won’t go into detail about it until I get home.  I’m afraid you’d read this letter at the dinner table – and it isn’t the kind of story to be told after having just finished a juicy piece of meat.  I spent all day Thursday in Baquin and all day today coming back.

Ah-Ha ! here’s the end of the page and my letter.

My love to all,

Dave