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

Trumbull – Dear Fugitives From A Lumber Camp – The Trumbull Communications Exchange – October onth, 1944

Trumbull House - Grandpa and kids - 1928 (2) Little Driveway view - 1928

The Trumbull House prior to 1950

Trumbull, Conn.  October onth, 1942

(The date IS NOT a typo)

Dear Fugitives from a lumber camp:

It is difficult to estimate how many board feet of maple Zeke and I worked on today (I also did some cutting yesterday afternoon alone), but we made a good start on clearing away some of the fallen trees. However there is much yet to be done so if any of you boys were making plans to come back and give me a hand don’t let the above statement deter you. Last week Zeke took my axe home with him to put a good edge on it and brought it back this morning along with his wife and offspring. I had started dinner so at once Elizabeth took over and I thereupon doffed my chef’s cap and donned lumbermen’s pacs, figuratively speaking. We made a good start on the Apple tree near the old chicken house and on the big old Maple tree on the front lawn but where we really went to work was on the Maple tree near Ives’s fence and the big trunk that split off and fell on Warden’s roof. We have been at it pretty steadily all day, both before and after dinner and we are both pretty tired and blistered, so again this letter may be somewhat abbreviated. Incidentally, enclosed are some snapshots showing the hurricane damage.

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

Trumbul house - Maple tree taken down in hurricane of 1944 - loking towards road

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

David Peabody Guion

The Trumbull Communications Exchange announces a letter from Marian and two from Dave, written on the 22nd and 25th respectively. The first announced his transfer to the 847th  S.T.B.  (Co. F) and told of numerous current rumors. The second, written three days later, told of his company being scheduled for six weeks team training when the officers assigned to the job arrive, thence to a port of mobilization, joining with a unit for three weeks more training, then to a POE (Port of Embarkation) for the boat ride, bringing this date possibly sometime in December. He adds: “You can’t be really sure what’s going to happen from one minute to the next (Ask Marian) so as usual we’ll just have to sit tight, make no calculations or plans and see what happens. After reading your quotations from Ced’s letter it occurred to me that right along I’ve been taking your weekly letters for granted, never realizing how much they’d be missed if even one week should go by without at least a note. Every time someone else writes they seem to take it for granted that I (and I suppose everyone else) already knows all the home news, so without your “News Events of the Week” written in your pleasant “Oh, Alfred, how do you do it?” style, we’d never know anything about the old home style. I for one want to feel at home when I get back there so I don’t want every change to be new and foreign when I get home.” Someday soon, Dave, why don’t you drop Mac a line and tell him you would like to see a recent issue of News to Youse — that he must have overlooked putting your name on the subscription list, etc., I have several times offered my help but I guess he doesn’t get around to it.

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Marian Irwin Guion

As for  MtF (Marian the Faithful), she writes that things go on just as usual. Lad is working hard at his instructor’s job, the promised photos will be on the way soon as packing facilities can be obtained. The hot spells make sleeping difficult. She recommends our seeing “Going My Way” with Bing Crosby, which we all had seen, Jean having heard it was good, and it certainly was. I think this inter-family movie recommendation is a very good idea. Marian said some very nice things about Dave’s reminiscent contribution, “And to think it came from an ancient 18-year-old!”

The war news about the Arnhem setback this week sort of puts a damper on the unbridled optimism. I have an idea Eisenhower is using the time that seems to mark a sort of lull to gather men and material for one great big push, one of those big doses of medicine he handed the Jerries when they broke through the Normandy front, a sort of Patton medicine, so to speak. And with that last as sort of a last expiring effort I shall take my weary bones off to bed although the clock says it is only 8:30. So, toodle loo for now.

DAD

Tomorrow and Sunday, more letters from Dave’s World War II Army Adventure.

Judy Guion