Tuesday, October 14, 2014

October 14, 1944 ~ Somewhere in England

Somewhere in England
October 14, 1944 (Sat.)
1020 (Navy Time)

Dearest Mother and Papa,

Please do not address any more letters to me in care of LST 312.  In other words, do not write to me until you hear further from me in regards to my new address.  You see, at present I'm being reassigned, perhaps to still another ship.  Just which one it will be, I don't know.  Therefore, you had better wait until I get settled.

I'm now beginning to doubt if I'll ever get the letters you've written to me since Sept. 19th.  All this transferring about is most undesirable, especially  for someone like me, who loves mail. I'm requesting to be transferred to one of the older ships.  I hope my request will do some good.  You can well imagine how i feel these days.

Wasn't it bad about Wendell Willkie?  It was as surprising as Campbell Laney's death - both were practically of the same age, same stature, and died of the same disease and both were politicians.  But I won't compare them any further.

I saw a British newsreel the other day in which President Roosevelt bounced back on the Dewey and the Republicans in regard to a statement they made concerning his dog, Fala.  Roosevelt displayed his acting ability as a comedian. His expressing while he talked, was so funny I laughed heartily.  Did any of you see a newsreel of it, by chance?

Did I write you that I voted for Roosevelt?  The state sent me a ballot slip in return envelope.  All I had to do was place the slip in the return envelope and mail it again.  One of the printed notices they enclosed read something to the effect: "The electoral delegates of this state (S.C.) have been asked to support the Roosevelt-Truman ticket. If you desire to vote otherwise, write to us and we will inform you of the proper channels."  I had to laugh - it suggested the "love it or leave it" idea. If you don't vote for Roosevelt -Truman, you're no South Carolinian. They also enclosed some other state issues (amendments to the Constitution, etc). I didn't fool with all that.  I felt I might screw up the works guessing  - so I just didn't express my opinion.

I wonder if Mrs. Sullivan ever wrote to you since her arrival in the U.S.. That beat anything I'd ever heard. I knew all her children were in America.  You had no idea she'd go to America before the end of the war.  She is lucky to have such people as the Vernons to take care of her things in London while she is away.  I'm going to write to Mrs. Vernon as soon as I get settled.

And did I ever write you that John Battles' father was dead, and his mother remarried?  I don't know his mother's new name by marriage and never did.  That's one reason I'm glad you had Lois' address.  I thought I wrote you this a long time ago, but maybe I didn't.  Have you heard anything further from his folks?  John's mother wrote to Dick Braman ) Braman received the letter about a month ago), stating that John was her favorite child, her "pride and joy".  It was a pitiful letter.

I never did hear from the McRae's, did you? There was another boy on the ship - an enlisted man, a boatswain's mate first-class, who was from Chipley, Florida.  His name was Otis Hinson.  Bill had known him all his life, and by a far more singular coincidence than mine and Murdoch's rendezvous in Africa and England, Hinson was assigned to the same ship with McRae.  You see, Chipley is just about the size of Chesterfield. If anything, it's smaller.  Hinson was not killed in the accident;  so perhaps someday he'll be able to report to the McRaes the full story.

I guess Murdoch's thirty days are about up now. I do hope he manages to keep away from the Pacific. The Navy is going to be even more important out there. I know on thing, the Americans are not going to waste any time with Japan after Germany's defeat.

Are you still looking forward to my 30-day leave - as much so as I am?  That's the greatest thing on earth I've ever had to look forward to. But I dread how I'm going to feel on the 30th day.  No more news right now, so will stop until later.
Lots of love,
Ainsworth


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