This is the second half of a letter started yesterday. Grandpa relays news of friends and family and tells us a little bit about his youngest, Dave.
David Peabody Guion
page 2 11/19/4
From a significant lack of any definite word from Lad, we are all pretty sure he is now on the high seas or has already arrived at his destination, what ever that may be. In a week or so perhaps we shall get a letter which will tell us a lot more than we now know we are pretty sure he will go to the European sector rather than the Pacific, but even that is merely conjecture and a rationalization from what few facts we have.
Don Whitney and his wife dropped in today while Marian and I were working on the storm Windows and I have promised to send him the addresses of all of you. He has been stationed at Fort Knox, Ken., But will not return there and is assuming he will next be sent across the big pond. Butch and Marty are both in St. Vincent’s Hospital at present for a tonsillectomy, which was scheduled to take place yesterday. Have heard no news of the progress made since that time.
And now we turn the page and come to the chapter headed “David”. That boy is fast qualifying for a financial diplomat. He shows a marked aptitude in separating his dad from funds. And this is the way of it. On the morning of the 16th my phone rang and the operator asked if I would accept a collect charge from Camp Crowder, Mo. Of course I said “Yes”. Dave’s well-known voice greeted me with the fact that he had just received some very good news. He was called into his C.O.’s office and told he could have a 15-day furlough starting at once; that it would take about #35 bucks for carfare but $50 would be safer and if I could wire him that amount at once he would start that night. Soon the 50 gold dollars went tinkling over the wires of the Western Union, and I went around all day walking on clouds and visioning all the fallen trees chopped up into small pieces by my husky young Corporal, all the ashes emptied, all storm Windows hung, all work at the office caught up, leaving him an hour or so of his 15 days to visit friends, etc. And then what happens? I get home and find a telegram from Camp Crowder reading: “Furlough delayed. Will write later, sorry.” And that, my children, is one way of getting them fifty bucks from the old man. Seriously, Dave, I don’t think you were any more disappointed than we were, but we did take some comfort in the word delayed which I hope you chose rather than canceled, with good reason. I am looking forward to finding a letter tomorrow in P. O. Box 7 which will clear the atmosphere and tell us a bit more what happened andd what to expect. Here’s hoping we can have you for a Thanksgiving dinner instead of turkey.
A letter from Kemper (Peabody) “Cows give milk no matter who is elected. Just now coming to the close of the farm year – – busiest I’ve ever had. Many thanks for your several letters. Wish you would send us a copy of your weekly letter to your boys when you can. May I say also that I think those letters are a remarkable idea – – a fine and unusually of fatherly thing to do. Now Ethel and I know how other folks feel, as Frank went yesterday. Volunteered in June, rejected, dejected, doctored, volunteered and accepted, hoping Navy. Wired this afternoon “Anchors away”.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all. I’ll miss you here. DAD
Tomorrow and for the rest of the week, I will be posting another letter from grandpa to his sons located around the world.