Letter's Home . . .
at least my hands weren't blown off
Written by: Robert Sandell
Commentary by: Alex Sandell

Letter # 22
(I actually skipped quite a few letters in-between, because they were basically about moving from one camp to another, and not really needed. It is now April 12th, 1944, and Bob is located in Camp Howze, TEXAS.)

Camp Howze

April 12 '44

Hello Folks -

Here it be the a.m. of midweek again. Got your post card from Chicago, Martha. How'd you like the trip? I aim to "take in" Chicago quite thoroughly when I get out of this - should I say it ? - army.

Weather turned kind of raw again after a warm spell.

Went through that "infiltration course" again. This time at night. That's the place where they shoot machine gun bullets over a field which is strewn with barb wire, craters, etc.. The worst part of the whole thing is the work involved in belly-crawling across it. And the wear & tear on the elbows & knees.

Continues the same old routine of marches, drilling, night problems, calisthenics, etc.. We stay out all night at least 2 nights each week. It gets monotonous. So much for this joint.

What goes on up on Sunset Hill? Is there much snow? How's school coming along for Marcy & Bill? I hear it went down to -24 this month. I'd like to bring a few of these bragging Texans up there & let them get a load of a real state! Whenever I see a bird in a tree (there's a few birds down here) I point to it & ask the Texans what it's doing here when there's Minnesota sitting up there & there's not feathered M.P.'s to stop it. I argue every day with these Texans. But I will have to admit that it's better than Louisiana. To hell with Texas. Wouldn't waste any more ink on it.

The whistle'll soon blow again to start another "wonderful army day," so until next time, it's cheerio.

Write soon.



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