Your loving husband

Will

Feb. 26, 1942

Dear Will,

I never wrote no letter before I don’t know how but its time I lurn don’t you think. We ate supper without you but the boys were frack fracshus (sorry I ain’t got no eraser) and I had trouble looking at your chair I kep wonderin where you were and if you had got there yet and if they fed you and give you a warm bed and all them things. And did miss Beasley come to the stashion like she said she would I can’t spell nor think clear on paper but feelings are a diffurnt thing and them I got aplenty I miss you so already Will and you been gone only today

This took me near an hour and it dont seem like much for so long but tomorr I’ll write more.

With love

Eleanor

Feb. 28, 1942

Dear Will,

Your letter came and Parris Island sounds just awful I cried because I felt so bad for you like you are being brave on my account when you say it aint so bad there. I did not cry for myself this time but I feel bad for you being there I hope you are okay that Twitchum sounds like a regular satan and I read plenty about him in my time…

Parris Is., So. Carolina

28 Feb. 1942

Dear Elly,

…I’m sending you my application for war bonds and insurance. Be sure to keep them in a safe place…

March 1, 1942

Dear Will,

I thot sure I’d get another letter from you Are you okay? Everyday when the mail comes I run down there and see if theres a letter in the box but there was only that one. Are you sure you are okay?…

Parris Is., So. Carolina

2 March 1942

Dear Eleanor,

I sure miss you green eyes and I would of writen before but they dont give us time we’re up at 0430 hours (that’s 4:30 in civvy time) and Twitchum wakes us up by kicking a shit can (that’s a trash can) down the squad bay and we hit the deck running. They give us each exactly three minuts in the latrine to shower and shave and you know what else if we got to and he’s in there barking like a mad dog all the time and the rest of the day its go go go till 0900 hours and then we get one hour of free time but it aint free cuz Twitchum comes in and makes us do drill or polish his boondockers (that’s boots here). So no time for writing till now.

I been what they called processed so I got no hair left kiddo and I look ugly as a coot with mange but it saves time in the morning and you don’t want no picture of anything this ugly. Anyways, they have’nt offered for us to get any pictures taken yet so maybe later. Also they fixed my teeth and gave me 7 shots in different places, four you-know-where. Ouch! Those needles could be a little sharper. In bed at night I think of you and the kids and your good cooking but the chow here ain’t as bad as I expected, better than in prison I can tell you. I don’t…

Ran out of time-mailing this on the run

Love,

W

4 March 1942

Dear Elly,

Your letter came in yesterdays mail call after I already sent mine the day before and I told you why I had not written. Dont worry about me I’m doing fine Twitchum lays off me but I see him watching close in case I make a mistak don’t worry I ain’t gonna make any I’m gonna act like his trained monkey. I sure do miss you and the kids and I suppose Lizzy P is growing. I have read your letters til the edges are getting raggy but don’t you worry about me I’m just a little lonesome is all. They feed me good here and when your bellys full you can put up with near anything. Don’t worry about me tho I’m just fine. Things here are speeding up. Today we got issued our.30 caliber rifles and bayonets and we have to memorize the model numbers-1903 & 1905. Every day I go to physical training, bayonet training and a class on military history who ever would’ve thought I’d be back in school again at my age but I am and next week we start first aid classes and articles-of-war classes and of course there is always close-order drill for hours and hours every day. They say all that marching teaches discipline and thats important in a military organization but now I reckon I know why they call this boot camp cause these boots sure get a workout ever day. Theres sure all kinds here Elly-course I was with all kinds in Huntsville too but heres diffrent cause your closer to them all the time. Some of them stink so bad we all got to go to hygiene lessons and lots of them can’t read so they go to reading classes The blacks got their own barracks and we got ours but everybodys got a buddy it seems. Mine’s this lanky redhead from Kentucky named Otis Luttrell. We get along good cause neither one of us likes to talk much…

March 13, 1942

Dear Mr. Parker,

By now you are becoming acclimated to Marine life while we at home slowly become acclimated to the idea of our country being at war. We here in town are being propagandized more and more now that America is actively in it. It seems there’s a new sign each week encouraging us to do our part, the latest one a picture of Uncle Sam shushing us, saying, "A slip of the lip can sink a ship." It seems incredible to believe there could be spies working among us in a place as small as Whitney.

Every organization from the Boy Scouts to the Jane Austen Society is sponsoring a scrap drive these days. To my chagrin they have even taken the Civil War cannon from the Town Square to be melted down as scrap iron. I raised a formal objection with the Town Council-after all, posterity must also be served-but of course their attitude was one of righteous patriotism, thus I was overridden.

Norris and Nat MacReady have volunteered to organize a Civil Patrol and be air raid wardens. They patrol each night to make sure everyone is in off the streets by ten and all blackouts are observed. Frankly, after all the years they have spent whittling on that bench across the street I thought they had grown into it!

I am making it a Saturday ritual to go out to visit Eleanor immediately after closing, since the days are longer now. Also it helps that we get an extra hour since "War Time" has gone into effect to save on electricity. Your wife and I always have a pleasant visit and a game or two of Chinese checkers. I take the boys books which occupy them while I’m there. They are looking healthy and robust, and Elizabeth is content and growing weekly.

I have put in a little Victory Garden but I fear I am not blessed with a green thumb like Eleanor. But I shall struggle on with it and perhaps get a tomato or two. Eleanor has volunteered to teach me to put up vegetables. I didn’t want to hurt the poor child’s feelings, but I’m afraid I’ve been behind a desk too long to be handy with collanders and sieves. Still, I shall try.

The butcher shop is acting as a collection depot for wastefats. The billboard there claims one pound of fat contains enough glycerine to make a pound of black powder, so we are all saving our bacon drippings for that cause.

Yet another new billboard has been posted in the town square right beside the MacReadys’ bench. On it is listed the names of all the local boys who have joined up. Your name is listed on the right column between Okon, Robert Merle, United States Navy, and Sprague, Neal J., United States Army. Thankfully none have a star behind them yet.

Franklin Gilmore is working out fine at the library although he occasionally shirks when it comes to dusting the top shelves which he thinks I never check.

I hope this finds you well and tolerating the rigors of military life with a minimum of discomforts. I shall look forward to hearing from you only if you may spare the time, which I’m given to understand is at a minimum during basic training.

My best to you,

Gladys Beasley

Mar. 15, 1942

Dear Will,

You’ll never guess who come over here today That pretty young Lydia Marsh from down the town road. Come up the road while I was planting my victory garden-ha! I been planting garden since I was old enough to hoe and all of a sudden they call it by some name so the town people will plant one too but thats neither here nor there. Mrs. Marsh she come to buy honey said she heard we had it for sale but she brung her two kids a girl four name Sally and a boy two name Lonn and the boys got along with them just fine and they were playin in the yard so I offered Mrs. Marsh tea and she stayed a bit and what a nice woman…

20 March 1942

Dear Miss Beasley,

Thank you for your letter and it sure was full of news I didnt know all that was going on back home Elly must not go to town cause she don’t tell me about it. I read some of the poems and they were intresting My favorite was When a Man Turns Homeward by Daniel Whitehead Hicky. I picture it would be like that when I can come back home to Elly and the kids and we will close the door and leave the world like a kitten outside…

25 March 1942

Dear Elly,

This has probly been the worst day since I left home. The whole company is pretty upset the whole base really. You probly heard about it on the radio how this lieut. Calvin Murphree had a platoon out on bivouac and sent them under the barbed wire on their bellies while he was strafing (that means shooting shells over their heads) and he went berzerk and started shooting to kill and he killed one private named Kenser or Kunzor or something like that and wounded two others before somebody stopped him. A man expects to get shot at when he reaches the front but not in boot camp by your own officers. Oh God Elly I miss you so much tonight green eyes. I got out my book of poems from Miss Beasley and read my favorite one to make me feel better. It’s about a man coming home through the moonfall and a woman is waiting with a candle. Only four weeks and one day and basic will be over and I should get leave and be able to come home…