November 20, 1944, #2

Dublin Core


November 20, 1944, #2


In this letter, Johnny copies a poem about the standard GI experience.




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November 20, 1944

Dear Jerry,

Can’t write much, the censor is to blame,

Just saying I’m well and signing my name.

Can’t tell when I came here or tell where I’m at

Can’t tell when I’ll leave here, no one knows that.

Can’t tell what we’re doing, can’t describe the place

Just saying I’m healthy and still in the race.

Can’t mention the weather, can’t say if there’s rain

All military secrets, must secrets remain.

We work in the daytime, stand guard at nite,

We live in tents with candles for light.

We exist on corn willies with beans for dessert,

No tables to sit at - we eat on the dirt.

There are a lot better places and some not so good

But we’re not complaining, no reason why we should.

We jump in our bed sacks at the end of each day

And dream of our homes back in the good old U.S.A.

Some days I’m happy, some days I’m blue,

But there’s not a day when I don’t think of you.

All feelings aside it’s not so bad,

We joke and laugh and refuse to be sad.

Don’t take this too seriously, not having a bad time,

This isn’t much of a poem but the sentences rhyme.

This is enough nonsense for one person to write

So I’ll call this my letter and close with good nite.


P.S. I didn’t compose this but it describes pretty accurately my first five months over here, especially living conditions.






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