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Today’s charming letter from 1943 is from Harry to his sister Eva in San Francisco and gives us a vivid description of life in the army. He is in southern California at the Desert Training Center which we read about in the August 18 post. He never actually served under desert conditions – hopefully some of what he learned proved useful in the humid South Pacific.
San Bernardino, Calif.
September 17Dear Sister,
The trouble with the community-reading of my mail is that all news are exhausted after the writing of the second letter to the folks. Consequently there is nothing left for me to tell you. Whenever I write to either Hilda or Tillie I must do a bit of thinking before putting anything down lest I repeat myself. Caramba, she is tough! Well, I’ll do my best not to say anything you already know.
Now let me see – no, there isn’t a thing to tell you. How about talking about the weather? It’s pretty warm right now, how are you? I am fine.
Did you finally say adios to the place you so lovingly spent the last three years at? Have you found any place to stay yet? In case of emergency I could put in a requisition for an old tent which I could send to you.
I couldn’t dine with Tillie the other day because of a restriction of the whole company to the company area. I was really sorry to miss that dinner because we have been fed the most abominable slop imaginable. Fresh food in this camp is almost unheard of: the menu consists of canned meat or hash, powdered eggs, canned fruit juice, powdered tomato juice, even canned potatoes and onions, no fresh milk – nothing fresh at all. So you can imagine how I felt when I saw a good steak dinner at the California Hotel pass me up, just like that.
With the return of the horse and buggy, many other commodities of yesterday have found a new place in this new era. I am writing this letter by the quaint light of three candles. There is no electricity in this company except in the bath and shower room; but there is too much noise with crap games and the radio going on.
During the three days of restriction I wrote a letter every night as I could do nothing but that. You know, I admire those fellows who sit down every day for a few hours to write letters.
I am getting rather sleep so I’d better close this little communiqué with a cheerio.
Your favorite brother,
Harry.P.S. Please excuse the mistakes this machine has made; it didn’t go further than the fifth grade. It can’t spell yet.
We have seen in previous posts how family members shared each precious letter with each other. I am grateful for the practice since that means I have a lot more letters in my family papers than I would have. Cousin Paul Zerzawy kept all the letters in his possession; Harry kept all of Paul’s and his mother’s, as well as a handful of Harry’s own letters that were sent to Bertha and Hilda.
At this point, Eva have recently graduated from nursing training at Mt. Zion and had to move from the student quarters on Post Street in San Francisco:
Tillie was visiting San Bernardino and hoped to see Harry – a postcard from the California Hotel makes it looks like Harry missed out on a fine meal.