This is the other half of a letter posted yesterday. It also concludes all the letters I have from 1942. In three weeks, I will begin posting letters written in 1943.
The hill in front of the house going down to the road. Dave, Jeanne Mortensen, (Dick’s girlfriend) and Dick, moving slowly through waist-deep snow. Mack is to the right of the stone pillar.
On the day before Christmas, not an ounce of butter was obtainable anywhere in Bridgeport or vicinity. The previous day I had been able to get a quarter pound at Herb Hay’s (Grocery Store in Trumbull Center) and the day before that, half a pound in Bridgeport, which, with what I had bought the previous week, was sufficient for our needs. No cream is on sale, but that saved from the top of Laufer’s daily milk deliveries serves just as well. It was interesting to note food prices in Anchorage. Beef is practically unobtainable but when occasionally it is for sale, prices are around $.55 a pound. Codfish is $.43. Turkey is $.51. Bacon, very scarce, but when obtainable $.45. Smoked hams are out entirely. Canned vegetables limited to one can to a customer. Many canned goods are missing, baked beans, chocolate syrup, corned beef, mushroom soup not having been on sale for months. In general, Anchorage food prices are surprisingly close to ours.
A telegram from Lad instructed that all mail hereafter be sent to Camp Santa Anita, Arcadia, Calif., marked “Hold”, so I assume he has either left Flint for the far west or is about poised to go.
The usual flood of Christmas cards arrived. And in this connection, Dan, it occurred to me that if you did not copy Jim Shield’s address, you might want it. It is 1023 Seneca War Homes, Seneca, Ill. Don Whitney is with the 743d Tank Bn., Fort Lewis, Wash.. Col. W. C. Weeks, Hdq., 7th Corps Area, U.S.A. Office of Engineers, Room 1103 Federal Bldg., Omaha, Neb., and Sgt. Nelson G. Sperling, Battery B, 375th Fg (?) Bn., Fort Jackson, S.C.
Two interesting letters arrived from Ced, which served somewhat to ease the pain of not having all members of the family gathered under the family roof at Christmas. The first of the two to arrive was the one written last; the first one written arriving a few days later. Among other things, it set forth clearly and fully the thing we have all been wondering about so long and that is Ced’s status as far as getting into the armed services is concerned. After much effort he has finally passed his examination and now has his aircraft engine mechanic license, on the strength of which Art Woodley has asked his deferment. The local board is averse to granting it but final decision rests in Seattle and up to the time Ced last wrote, no final word had been received. The house the three of them have been living in has been sold and as of December 12th they will all have to find new living quarters. (Correction: change the word Seattle above to Juneau).
I am awfully pleased about that license, Ced. It does my heart good to know you are progressing along your chosen line. The next license you will go after, I suppose, will be your pilot’s license. I’d feel safer to know you are on the ground rather than up in the air, fighting with some treacherous air pocket above a glacier or near a mountain, but that’s just the old man part of it, I suppose. After receiving your explanation as to how you feel about the letters dispatched week after week, I haven’t the heart to carry out what you choose to call threats; but I do want very much to hear from you regularly and hope your kind heart and understanding nature will induce you to do what you might not be led to do with mere threats. Aunt Betty fairly cheered at your sentiments regarding war songs and says she is 100% with you. Lots of love from us all to you and Lad.
In three weeks I will begin posting letters written in 1943, a truly momentous year for Lad and, literally, for me also.