Trumbull – Dear Ex-Trumbullites (and Marian) – Ced Leaves For Alaska – February, 1944

 Lad has been sent to Texarkana, Texas, Marian has left her job as Director of the Camp Fire Girls in South Pasadena, CA, and has traveled to Texas to be with her new husband. This letter fills in a little bit about the rest of the family.

Trumbull, Conn. February 20, 1944

Dear Ex-Trumbullites (and Marian)

Judy_0003You may perhaps recall, gentle readers, that at the close of last week’s chapter we had left our hero, Ced, out on a limb. Upon his return from New York he reported the best reservation he was able to obtain for his return journey was February 22, and quite ironically this Washington’s Birthday reservation was on the Jeffersonian, the crack Pennsylvania train to St. Louis, whence he expected to proceed to Texarkana for a stopover long enough to visit the. A.P.‘s. A few days later however having received another wire from Art Woodley advising him to start immediately, he again visited New York Friday to try for an earlier reservation only to find the Jeffersonian date could not be better but he could take his chance without reservation on one of the other regular trains. This he decided to do so yesterday (Saturday) he held a hasty and quite informal Farewell Sourdough Flapjack Party attended by we inmates, Alta Gibson, (Arnold had already left for work) Flora Bushey, Mrs. Ives and Ethel. The one o’clock express from Bridgeport to Penn Station was very late and thus the first section gathered up those on hand for both sections which not only crowded the Bridgeport station but filled the entire length of the long platform. When the train finally pulled in it was already so crowded that people were packed standing in the aisles and also on the platform, so that we were hardly able to crowd up the steps of the train. We did manage to squeeze in but whether the rest of the waiting crowd were able to wedge themselves in I don’t know. Arriving at the station which was also packed with the usual wartime weekend crowd, Ced finally managed to get his baggage checked. We then went over to the Grand Central to say goodbye to Elsie, ate an early supper and got back to Penn Station just before Jeffersonian train time. Still no last minute cancellations on any of the St. Louis trains, but on the basis of “nothing ventured, nothing won”, Ced asked me to go through the gate with his 22nd reservation while he picked up his bags and made a last try. I waited at the foot of the stairs and finally won from the reluctant brakeman the admission that Ced might board the train on the slim chance that someone who had not canceled might still fail to show up, but that if this did not happen, he would have to get off in Philadelphia and wait for some other train. The minutes clicked by, the conductor stood with watch in hand, yelled, “All aboard.” when Ced appeared at the top of the steps, rushed down with his bag in one hand and a ticket in the other and announced, “I got it”. We said a hasty goodbye and the train pulled out leaving me with the comforting feeling that he would have a comfortable ride at least as far as St. Louis where he was due at 1:35 this afternoon. From there he goes by way of the Missouri Pacific to Texarkana. There is a train which leaves shortly after the Jeffersonian arrives, which would land him at Texarkana at 2:20 AM Monday morning. The next train to my mind is better, leaving St. Louis at 5:50 PM and arriving at Texarkana at 6:05 AM.. Possibly permitting him to have Monday breakfast with Lad and Marian. I am waiting to hear just what did happen.

From there Ced continues on to Los Angeles, thence to Seattle and from there by boat to Alaska. For your information, Ced, Aunt Betty says she mailed your Seattle letter and Elsie’s card in the mailbox in the medical building at about two o’clock, a collection from which was scheduled to be made at three. Of course everyone felt they would like to have Ced stay longer, but we did have him for such a long visit that we were more reconciled to his leaving as contrasted with Lad’s flying visit in the early fall.

Nary a word has been received this week from Dave outside of a letter received last Monday, written the Saturday previously and expressing doubt as to his future movements. I assume he has been sent to some other camp for basic training and has been so busy he hasn’t had time to write. I hope tomorrow’s mail will bring some definite word.

Richard (Dick) Guion

Richard (Dick) Guion

Dick has delighted us with a whimsical letter giving us a sort of a psychoanalysis of his Brazilian horse, as well as a glimpse into the family life of one native family with a daughter of marriageable age. I wish space permitted my quoting it in full, as the whole thing is quite delightful and shows considerable writing skill. In fact, as in Dan’s case, it seems too bad that those possessing such ability do not practice more on the home folks. It makes me quite envious and somewhat ashamed of some of my own efforts. To you, Dave, Dick says he’s glad you like the Army. He thinks the Air Corps is one of the best branches to get into. He hopes you make the grade and will be able to go to school for 15 months as he feels sure that by that time the war will be over. Amen to that.

I am going to award a home decoration to Marian for faithfulness in writing. Another letter this week, in which Lad also adds a pleasant promise of future

Marian Irwin Guion (Mrs. Lad)

Marian Irwin Guion (Mrs. Lad)

epistles to, tells about their being temporarily established in a “fairly nice auto court, with room and a bath”, with the prospect of later obtaining furnished rooms in a new federal housing project. Lad keeps pretty busy with his intensive training job but is able to get home most nights. Marian will try to find some job to keep her busy during the day. For your information, all of you — their present mailing address is Box 154, Hooks, Texas. Be nice, and drop them a line. Marian, as a little reward for your devotion I am sending a sort of Valentine myself which I hope may prove useful in your little apartment. You don’t think your husband will mind other fellows sending you a Valentine, do you?

Dan must be pretty busy also because I haven’t heard from him now for about a month. I am wondering if the recent London air raids came anyway near where he is staying.

A letter this week from Dorothy, written from the New Rochelle hospital, says she expects to have an operation on the 18th and hopes to be back in New York in a couple of weeks. She has been out on a 10 day visit to Larry’s place in Ohio and says it is even lovelier than she had anticipated.

Paul has received word from Remington that due to the fact that supplies of ammunition are so far ahead of needs that he and several thousands of others are to be laid off March first. He plans to enlist in the Navy, if possible, if not in the Army, leaving Kit and the children to occupy the apartment. Ethel just received a letter from Carl in Edinburgh, Scotland, which is one place his trip has taken him.

Aunt Betty is slowly getting used to her Acousticon and thinks she will like it better as time goes on.

It is now 8:30 and I hear outside a chorus of “Young Peoples” who still continue to pay us Sunday night visits. Bob Jennings just came in and says Eleanor heard from Dave. He has left Devens but he does not know where his new camp is located.


Tomorrow, I’ll post a letter from Marian with some news.

I’ll finish out the week with a letter from Grandpa bringing us up to date on the entire family.

Judy Guion



Army Life – Dear Dad – Got Back to Aberdeen – August, 1942


APG - Lad to Dad - Aug. 29, 1934 (1942)

Aug. 29th, 1934

Dear Dad: –

Today is the 30th. I made a mistake in the above date. (He sure did, and he doesn’t even mention the year !!!)

Well, I got back to Camp last week very well. The train got into Aberdeen at 3:15 A.M., having made only one other stop, Wilmington. From Aberdeen to Camp is that Toonerville and it runs on the hour at that late hour, so I only had a 45 minute wait. I got into Camp a few minutes after 4:00 and had a couple of hours of sleep. On the train I had had about 3 so I felt O.K.

I went to a dance last night and had a wonderful time. The best I’ve had in Aberdeen. I slept today until noon and after lunch I washed clothes so now I do not have even one piece of dirty clothing.

For supper tonight, I’m going out and buy me a nice steak. I just feel in the mood for one.

News for last week has been very scarce. Don Frankenhauser has left for Mass. and from there he will be shipped across.

I heard again from Venezuela, and things have apparently changed a great deal. I really would like to go back there again.

Well, that’s about all I can think of so until next week –


Tomorrow, more Special Pictures.

On Monday I’ll begin a week of letters written in 1944.

Judy Guion

Trumbull – Dear Fugitives From the Home Fireside (4) – Ced’s Return Flight – Arriving at Chagrin Falls, Ohio – January, 1946

Finally I spotted one between two high ridges, and having no choice I skittered down in and landed. I learned it was “Roulette” (appropriate name under the circumstances) and was no longer an approved airport. Having no idea where Roulette was I got out my map and had the fellow show me. It some 15 miles south of the N.Y. border and about 35 miles north of where I should have been flying. I had misjudged the wind and so set out again in a better direction, and just before dark I arrived at Oil City, Pa. — A mere 345 miles from Monroe and still 12 miles north of what should have been my flight path. I must have flown over 400 miles. The next day the weather reports were OK and I set off again in a happy frame of mind which soon became not so happy being squelched by some more of those “light” snow squalls. I did keep pretty close watch of the route and remain quite on course until I approached Cleveland. There the squally became so thick I decided to make a landing even if I had to land in the field. Not seeing an airport at the next village not seeing an airport at the next village I passed over, and a good field appearing at the edge of town, the little Taylor craft soon bounced over the deep snow covered field and again rested on the good Earth. I remained at a farmhouse across the road and learned that the Chagrin Falls airport was a scant 3 miles from there. More later.

Ced also includes a more or less intimate and personal account of conditions at the Woodley airfield which I will not quote. He says his work on Tuesdays and Thursdays starts at 4:30 AM, and Sunday, Monday, Wednesday at 7 AM. Saturday is his day off.

O.K. Ced, will be glad to do what we can for Leonard and Marian but from all reports housing conditions all over the East are terrible and returning servicemen are said to be living in tents in Central Park. The auto situation is a little better, BUT we will of course do the best we can. The enclosed snapshots were all Lad was able to get — no movies. Your suggestion about Mother’s picture is a good one. That is going to see what he can get from those old movies — the bum ones I took when we first got the camera. The miniature on the stand by my bed schoolgirl picture of your mother before we were married and is not as you remember her.

Next week maybe they’ll be something from Dave.    Ta-ta.    DAD

Tomorrow, more Special Pictures.

On Monday, we’ll jump back in time to 1942 when Lad and Dan are just going through their Army training. The War has just begun.

Judy Guion


Trumbull – Dear Fugitives From the Home Fireside (3) – Ced’s Return Flight – Second Problem – January, 1946

All went comparatively well and so I came into the mountainous regions of the Alleghenies. Here, somehow, I missed my landmarks and was soon in a quandary as to where Wilkes-Barre, I first intended gas stop, might lie. After a brief but fruitless search in the vicinity of where I thought it should be, I determined to go on to Williamsport, as my guess was sufficient, and I didn’t see the use of using it all up in one spot looking for W-B. I flew for some time and I thought I had my bearings established again, but after a little bit I began to wonder, and as the visibility was getting poorer all the time, I determined to turn in a southerly direction sure of intersecting the Susquehanna River somewhere before getting to Williamsport. Well, that I did at a point about 2 miles northeast of Sunbury although I didn’t know where I was until I flew over Sunbury and saw the name on the roof of the hangar. I was about 20 miles south of 15 miles east of Williamsport. I was glad to see an airport and wasted no time landing on the sod runway. I had the ship gassed, checked the weather and found there were local light snow falls do. As this was not a bad report I went down to the end of the runway and took off. A cub took off right behind me with the two mechanics who had gassed my plane. They were going up for a little practice. We were hardly off the runway when the snows came, and BROTHER, it wasn’t exactly “light” snow. I circled around to get above the bank of the river and figured I’d break out of it soon, but after five minutes flying it became so thick I could barely see the ground they turned back onto the river and headed for Sunbury. By that time I was between the riverbanks and couldn’t see either one half the time. By guests and by golly I finally got back

Page 3    1/13/46

field and landed. Weather reports had changed and now the prediction was for an all-day snow. Resignedly, I sat and talked to the men the field and at noon I went into town and grabbed a lunch. As soon as I sat down to eat the snow tapered off and by the time I had finished it had stopped completely. Not waiting for my ride back to the airport I set out on the run and was cranking up and took off, still hoping to make Norwalk by nightfall. Flying over mountainous country was low ceiling and scattered snow flurries is rather uncertain business, and when the wind is changing direction as it was that day, it is really a nuisance. Landmarks are few — always seem to look the same as at least 10 others, and to make a long story short, it wasn’t long before I was once again in a quandary. The trouble was that my compass correction was incorrect for the wind, which had shifted, and as a result I flew In NW in relation to the ground instead of due W, which it should have been. At one time there was a particularly heavy snow flurry and for about three minutes I never saw thing but the windshield and the side windows outlined in white. That was a hell of a long three minutes. Also, the snow had blocked off the vent on the reserve tank and when I pulled the valve, no gas ran into the maintaining. There I was with probably an hour’s gas at the most, not sure where I was, not positive that I had over half an hour’s gas, and over the mountains, and snow flurries. Well, I kept a weather eye peeled, and each time I passed over a community I searched the surrounding countryside for an airport.

Tomorrow, the conclusion of Ced’s travails so far, and the end of this letter.

On Saturday and Sunday, more Special Pictures.

Judy Guion


Trumbull – Dear Fugitives From the Home Fireside (2) – Ced’s Return Flight – First Problem – January, 1946


“What the hell” is correct, Danny, old son, the bother is all in your own mind. It wouldn’t be much fun if we couldn’t feel we were being useful to someone, it’s about the only way we at home can gratify the urge to help, and it’s particularly pleasing to know it really is a worthwhile service. This week I shall try to get off to you some of the layette items. And thanks for the photos of Paulette. Enclosed, in return, some snaps Lad took of Ced and his plane,

Page 2    1/13/46

print which, incidentally, Lad graciously worked until 3 o’clock this morning so that I might send them off to you in today’s mail.

And that quite properly brings us to the other long letter I received this week from Ced. He mentions the fact that Leonard and Marian Hopkins are leaving Anchorage on Jan. 15th for a trip to the East, with the possibility of their calling at Trumbull. As to his (Ced’s) return flight, he says: “Presumably you are curious to hear details of the plane trip up here. I made no notes, took very few pictures and all that I have to go on is a rather vivid memory of the high points of the trip. On this letter item I am toying with the idea of perhaps trying a fling at an article or story. Perhaps nothing will come of it but we shall see. The rough details I should now narrate for your edification only. I left Monroe Airport on Dec. 10 amid a show of field “buzzing” in a farewell salute to members of the family who had turned out to bid me Godspeed and to give Lad an opportunity to take some movies. (I trust he got some good ones). Having climbed to about 1000 feet I faced the nose the ship to the West in the gray dawn of an overcast day, and visit myself with instruments, maps, etc., likely to be needed at the start of a long cross-country trip. This activity I failed to know for quite an extended. The course of my craft over the terra firma below and soon I realized I had lost sight of familiar landmarks. I compass had swung far around to the north and east and so I tried to make corrections. The next thing I knew I was winging serenely westward across the Housatonic at Stevenson Dam, and that, dear family, is why you heard my engine for such a long interval. Actually I made a big circle to the east while I was lining up my maps. Well, my embarrassment and chagrin somewhat soothed by again coming on course I settled down to a more alert contemplation of the ground under me and was presently passing over Bethel, Lake Mahopac and points west, and that, by the way did include West Point.

I’ll be posting the rest of this letter throughout the week.

Judy Guion


Trumbull – Dear Veterans – Quick Note From Ced – January, 1946

Trumbull, Conn., January 6, 1946.

Dear Veterans: (yes, that includes Ced, who has earned the title

by his recent flight to Alaska)

Even if the laws of compensation did not indicate that a 7-page letter one week should be followed by a skimpy one the next week, the fact remains that the holiday let-down leaves little happening to make news. The only quotation is a letter from Ced written Dec, 27th from Fairbanks, Alaska: “Just one more hop and I’m home in Anchorage. Spent last two days in Northway just over from the Canadian border on the Alaskan side. Landed they are about 3:55 p.m., after dark and as I taxied up toward the CAA building I aimed between two field boundary lights and headed for the station. Just as I went between those two lights there came a jolt and something flew past the right side of the ship, the engine weazed weakly and quit. Right between those two lights the Army had placed a marker made of light wood, painted to show in the daytime but virtually invisible at night. Well, of all places to put it they had it right where I wanted to taxi. It shattered the propeller but otherwise did no serious damage. I had to wait, tho, until noon today to get a new propeller from Fairbanks flown in. I haven’t done anything yet about fixing the blame but when I get back to Anchorage I’m going to look into the situation and see if I have any grounds for collecting damages. I’m afraid it’s useless altho I don’t feel it was my fault at all– negligent placing of the marker as far as I can see. Cost will be approx. $35 for the new prop. Was at Teslin on Christmas Eve and got in on a wonderful turkey dinner with all the fixins.  Paid a $1.15 per gallon of gas at Watson Lake. Saw a P-80 jet job take off at White Horse. They make a terrific roar — sounds like a huge blower running full speed. He went from W.H. (White Horse) to Fairbanks in 1/3 the time it took me to go from W.H. to Northway, which is about half as far. Fairbanks checked the speed at 368 mph elapsed time. Expect to get an early start in the morning, weather permitting, and should be in Anchorage by noon time. Will write and tell you about the whole trip later on– one of those now-it-can-be-told reports. Fairbanks is pretty much a hole in the wall and once again Alaskan prices have hit me square between the eyes. Paid one dollar for an ordinary roast beef dinner in a mediocre café tonight. Some difference from Canada where one rarely has to pay over 50-60 for a darn good meal and at low value Canadian money at that. One cashes $20 travelers check and gets back $22 Canadian. Try and change it back and you get $8.50 for a $10 Canadian.”

Today as you may recall is Elizabeth’s birthday and they all came over to dinner. In fact, they have just left. Jean was not feeling too well, had a headache and cold and did not feel equal to coming down for dinner. She is feeling a bit better now, however.

Ced. Thanks for your pleasant surprise Christmas gift from Great Falls. I’m looking forward to that account you promise because I really feel it was an unusual accomplishment. I still get a thrill every time I think of it and a buoyant feeling of relief at your safe arrival and in such good condition as regards both you physically and the plane materially.

Dan. It’s about time we had a report about your married life and all the things you have been doing, to say nothing of comments on some of the news I have been dishing out to you for several months past with nary a peep from you in comment. Let’s know what you think of the Island idea, where you spent Christmas, the details of your work, news of Paulette, Homecoming arrangements (if any, yet), receipt of packages, what places you have visited, etc.

Happy 1946 to you all.                            Dad.

I will devote the rest of the week to another letter from Grandpa.

Judy Guion


Army Life – News From Lad and Marian – December, 1943


Dated – 1943 DEC 26






Dear Dad:- As I cabled, I am here in Texas —Co 3019, 142 O.B.A.M. Bn. O.U.T.C. Red River Ord. Depot, Texarkana, Texas. Marian will stay at 1416 Stratford Ave. until I can find a decent place for her here in this section. Things don’t look too good as yet, but I’m hopeful. This place is no where near as nice as L.A. and Anita, but some of the fellows went to Flora, Mississippi which is even worse. Happy New Year to All, and good luck.     Lad

(Little does he know but he and Marian will also end up in Flora, Miss.)



Marion at Pomona - smiling - in color- 1943



Dear Dad –

Your Christmas package arrived today, and even though Lad wasn’t here to open it with me, I had loads of fun opening your gifts. Lad’s I will send on to him, along with a few other things that hadn’t arrived when he left.

I love the cookbook! Couldn’t help but laugh when I opened it – I told Lad that he was going to have to be a guinea pig, even though he wasn’t here, so when I make some cookies or cake to send to him, I’ll have to mail a few to you – and I can always blame the post office department if they arrived sort of hard, or any badly mangled condition!

The perfume and powder is lovely, too, in fact, I started using it right away – Thank you so much, Dad.

Received a rather encouraging letter from Lad today – there are some houses available in Texarkana – not too good, he says, but at least they will furnish a roof over our heads, ‘cause if it is at all possible , I intend to join him as fast as I can. Seems as though he’s been gone for years, and nothing I do seems to be much fun anymore. As long as he is in the United States, I want to be with him.

I’ll have to give up my job here, and because it is the kind of a job it is, I am going to have to tell them right away, even tho’ I have no definite word from Lad as to when I can join him. But it will take at least a month to get everything straightened around at the office, and if the National office in New York doesn’t have someone available right away (which is very probable) I am going to have to get everything lined up so that some local person can take over until the new Executive comes. It’s just not the kind of job that you can give two weeks notice and then leave. So I’m starting now to clear the decks for action. I can stay on here in South Pasadena and work in Pasadena or Los Angeles- I know that I can get some sort of a job – and one that I can leave rather hurriedly, and that doesn’t require any contract signing.

You’ve probably heard from Lad by now- the trip to Texarkana wasn’t too bad – one flat tire on the way – and quite a bit of snow the last 500 miles, but he arrived safely. The weather is very cold but the people there have been swell to him, he says. How can they help it? Say I.

Dad, I wonder if you know what a perfectly wonderful son you have raised? I simply can’t put into words all the wonderful things that he means to me. Truthfully, and very humbly, I say that no girl could ever ask for a nicer husband then Lad is. Somehow it seems hard to believe that I could be so very lucky in finding him – thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for doing such a grand job.

And from what I can gather from your letters and the things you do, I can see where he gets a good part of it. I’m not so good at putting what I feel into words, but, very sincerely, I mean every word of it. I hope it won’t be very long before I can really meet all of you in person. I’m looking forward to it so much.

I’m not usually quite so serious, Dad, So I’ll have to close on a lighter note. Lad comments that the country around Texarkana is “very poor and definitely not likable!” He also says that he retracts any mean statements he ever made about California! Gosh sakes! Quite a few people manage to live in Texas so it can’t be too bad – don’t they say that nights on the desert are beautiful and can’t be beaten? Hope I get a chance to find out for myself!

Has Ced gotten home? I mailing a letter to him there in hopes that he’s there by now.

With loads of love and very best wishes for the new year for all of you-

As ever,


P.S. Enjoyed your Christmas card so much. –

This is the final letter from 1943. In three weeks, I’ll begin letters from 1944.

Tomorrow and Sunday, more Special Pictures.

On Monday, we jump ahead to Christmas, 1945 and the end of that year.

Judy Guion