Boot Camp Letters (October 1948)

The first in a series of my dad’s letters from boot camp.

My dad had just turned 18 when he joined the army in the fall of 1948. He enlisted with his older brother and two other local friends from the Northwoods of Minnesota. It was peace time, so joining the armed forces was an opportunity to see more of the world and possibly learn a trade.

Dad had a sweetheart back home (my mom’s older sister), so he wrote letters to her about his new adventure. Needless to say, their long-distance romance did not survive the years apart. But the letters did survive, thanks to a younger sister who somehow squirreled them away to be discovered decades later. How thankful I was to find them as I helped sort through boxes of long-forgotten correspondence.

To me, these letters are a personal glimpse into who my dad was as a young man, something few of us get to see. They are also a glimpse into a different era, but a view that is unique to him.

For a little background to set the stage, my dad was the second son of an entrepreneurial lumberjack. Entrepreneurial, because my grandfather and his brother operated the lumber camps in northern Minnesota where they worked. My dad loved trapsing through the woods in his knee-high, laced leather boots as a youngster. It was his favorite place to be.

It makes sense, that at 14 years of age, he convinced his dad to let him quit school and join him working at the lumber camp. It was hard, cold work. He was a youngster among dozens of older men who typically spent their paychecks on booze and gambling during their Christmas break.

With that in mind, you will understand why his letters from boot camp were filled with excitement surrounding the simplest things.

Fort Riley Kansas October 22, 1948

Dearest,

Well, I finally got settled down a little bit. We got all of our clothes and uniforms today. You ought to see us! I don’t think anybody in our company ever had that many clothes before in one time. We had a duffle bag and a barracks bag both packed clear full! We can’t wear our dress uniforms (only when we are going someplace or special occasions).

I sure hope Wes makes it. He’ll probably be home by now if he didn’t. I imagine he’ll feel pretty bad about it, because he will be pretty much alone back there now that the rest of us guys made it. [Note: Wes was her brother.]

I think it’s really going to be an easy life right now. It’s in the middle of the day and some of the guys went to a football game and the rest of us are just laying around. Donald [his brother] is on one side of me playing his mandolin. There’s another bunch playing cards, so I’m having a pretty hard time concentrating on this letter.

Nobody’s ever serious around her. They’re always joking and fooling around. When the whole bunch is here, we really raise cane. I think this is going to be the best life I ever led. The only thing is — you are too dog-gone far away.

It’s going to be hard to get used to not being able to go see you whenever I feel like it. It’s going to be hard to make up for it on a 10-day furlough, but I bet you I make a good stab at it. I’ll appreciate a good female by them. You hardly ever see one around here, and it wouldn’t do you much good if you did. They keep a pretty good eye on you.

Well, has anything special went on since I left? I’ll sure be glad to hear from you, so write soon. You know that Shirley your brother Don was going with? Her two brothers just came in so I guess I will close for now and talk to them for a while.

Please write soon. Love, Paul

Fort Riley Kansas October 26, 1948

Dearest,

I got a little time before the lights are out, so I’ll try and write a few lines. I haven’t heard from you as yet but am hoping to, soon.

Wes came in this afternoon. BOY that surprised me! I didn’t think he was going to make it for a while. But I guess he finally made it at Minneapolis. He’s in a different company than the rest of us, so I guess we probably won’t see him so often until he gets through processing.

They clipped our hair yesterday, and boy, they sure didn’t leave much. We all look like a bunch of convicts. I like it though. You don’t have to worry about combing your hair. In fact, there isn’t no hair there to comb.

We’ve sure had a lot of tests lately. At least six every day. They are trying to find out what we are good for, if anything.

I think I’ll have to be a house made after I get out of here. You really have to be neat and have everything perfect. It’s sure hard on some of these hillbillies. I haven’t had much trouble so far.

Well, I better close and polish my shoes a little bit.

Love, Paul

Watch for the next article in this series for more letters from boot camp.