Mrs. Forist’s Little Boy

Fri. 24 Nov. ‘44

6:40 p.m.

 

Dear folks,

What a day. Mrs. Forist’s little boy is very, very disgusted with the United States Army & the state of Texas. He isn’t complaining too much about Texas though for obvious reasons.

Last night when I finished your letter I came back and got to bed. We were woke at 6:00 this morning due to the inspection and had reveille at about 6:20. After reveille I hurried over and did my morning report before going to breakfast – potatoes, toast, butter, corn flakes, milk and grapefruit. After eating I took some stuff over to the office & came back & tossed the rest of my junk in my bag and pack and took it outside. At about 8:00 we shouldered all our stuff and carried it across to an open field. There we put our blankets on the ground, laid out everything we had and covered that with our shelter half. It was dry and except for dust & straw on the blankets wasn’t bad. But as I suspected it was too good to last. Of course “C” Co. was the last to be inspected. I got my stuff out by about 8:30 and shortly afterward it began to rain a little. I made a sort of tent over my stuff and we waited and then waited a little longer. Finally at some time after 11:00 they got to us. By then little puddles were standing all over the shelter half & it also began to really rain. We had to uncover our stuff to have it checked. As soon as each item was checked off we put it in our bag to keep it as dry as we could so besides getting wet it all got nicely pressed too. My stuff was all O.K. except I had one too many of those little huck towels. I got my stuff in my bag as soon as possible and put my blankets in my pack, wrapped my rifle in my shelter half & took off for the barracks. I did manage to keep my rifle fairly clean but everything else was a mess. I got back at about 12:00 and shook out my stuff. I hung up my blankets & shelter half, pack & duffle bag as best I could. I hung up all the wettest stuff, & put the rest in my footlocker. My towels, underwear, etc. are all streaked & spotted with mud & my OD’s are pressless. That pack we have is quite a thing. It’s called a cargo pack & that’s what it is. It’s practically a barracks bag to go on your back but it takes 2 blankets O.K. I like it a lot better than the old haversack & pack carrier of the infantry. As you can guess by the time I got all the stuff wiped up & hung up to dry I was a bit disgruntled. I wasn’t too dry either from the knees to the ankles. To top it off, all the cooks & A.P.’s were out with us so no food. There wasn’t anything left at the P.X. either so at 1:00 I went to work. I worked with Kumins a little and since my stuff is all set I typed up the officer’s ration charges for the sgt. By then it was 3:00 so I came back for the meal which was ready. It was about time. –Roast veal, potatoes, parsnips, salad, bread, butter and pineapple. After eating I never went back to work. Kumins may not have liked it but I was all set so far as I could tell so I went to work. I shipped my rifle all the way, bolt, rear sight, everything but the trigger group and gave it a good cleaning. I really oiled it too as this damp weather can rust a rifle in no time. Also it may be a little wet in transit from here to there. I tore down my bayonet and cleaned it. Then I scrubbed my rifle sling & put it back on to dry. I got a brush & brushed the mud off my shelter half, blankets, duffel bag & pack. Then I repacked & took care of the dry stuff & got things in order again. I dubbed one pair of shoes & scrubbed another pair which I’ll dub when they dry. Now here I am. I guess maybe I’ve complained enough for one day. It’s still pouring & Camp Maxey is one vast morass of mud. The boy from Germany tells me Europe is like this all winter. All my mail today was a card from Sunfield so I think you followed my instructions. You’ll get one more letter from me here – my weekend one (if I can get time enough in the rush to write). That’s all I can say. I guess I’ve covered things pretty well so I better quit & dub my boots. So for tonight at 7:15 I’ll say so long,

 

Love

Son