Dear Dad

Hq, Third U. S. Army SGS Section APO 403, % Postmaster New York, New York

14 May 1944.

Dear Dad:

Suppose you are now looking forward to the long vacation after so many, many years. Yet it must seem strange to be leaving the life work you have engaged in; the steady pounding of the rails, the hundreds upon hundreds of thousand miles that have flashed before your eyes, the summer storms and the chill of winter blizzards, the rickety old cars changing into the modern, stream-lined monsters that flash across the plains, the long drawn-out wail of the steam whistle under the star-lit sky and the hoot of the City of Denver as it sped past the little towns with no time for stops; the depression years and the empty cars that blighted the rail yards all over the country, the Weary Willies and the still more weary brakeman who chased them, but not too far nor too long; the sudden stopping of the train and the still unrecognizable shapes of cars or other things that had momentary contact with the all-crushing force on rails. What a lot of wonderful memories you have to dream of while sitting by the side of a lake waiting for those elusive fish we find so hard to catch. There are other memories too; of the bitter winds that clothing helped not at all in the stopping of its deathly chill; the long, long hours when your feet could scarcely carry you to the top of those steep steps at the station; the nights when blizzards kept you from home and warmth for so long; the tornado and its path of destruction through the lands where you had your home and family. Yes, Dad, you have your memories, and now with your retirement, I hope that all the rest of the many years ahead of you will be filled with fun and rest and the thoughts that you have done a wonderful job and that your children are very proud of you.

There isn't a lot of news to tell you, Dad, except that things are going very well with me. I am getting the proper amount of exercise so that I may be fully fit for whatever the future may bring. There is a certain amount of uncertainty in each day that faces us, yet with the knowledge that the education given is of the fullest, we can look forward to the morrow with the thought of fullfillment of the tasks ahead. A person can put a lot of tripe into words, but what I am trying to tell you is that I feel confident of what I am able to do and that is the way we all feel; so, in fact, we hardly think about the future, because we keep fully occupied each day. There is always something to do, or some place to visit and the good, clean fresh air of the outdoors gives one such a grand feeling of just being around, that nothing else could disrupt it.

I wrote Glenna about the new drink I had tried — the heavy beer and rum — well, for the fun of it, I went into a place where they had never mixed that type of drink, and there were many wry smiles as I started to drink it. Actually it is good, but quite out of the line of imagination of the staid drinkers of this land. It's a constant source of amazement to the people here to watch the Yanks mix every type of drink and try anything once. Now, don't get the idea that all we do of an evening is drink, for that isn't true — now and then we will go for long rides and many evenings are rather confining due to work, so our entertainment will run in spells. It is just that the Pubs are places of family entertainment and a good glass of beer helps the evening along. Take care of yourself, Pop.

Your son, Norb.

Hq, Third U. S. Army SGS Section APO #403, % Postmaster New York, New York

26 July 1944

Dear Dad:

Was happy to get the letter from you dated June 27th, which arrived after the one you wrote after doing all your visiting. Since I answered the one letter, this one will be a lot of repetition. Anyway, it was sure great to find out that you had such a swell time on your trip and that you planned to go to Portland to visit Aunt Lillian. She's been looking forward to seeing you for a long time and you will have a whale of a time there. Still, I'll bet you were glad to get home with Glenna and Charles again, because I know you like to be with old friends.

When you speak of chigger bites, I can sympathize because I have some trouble with insect life and a few days ago I had a touch of the old rash that bothered me when I was a kid. Maybe I'm growing younger all over again. At any rate, I had to ask the Doctor and he said it was all right. We get pretty rich food at times and maybe that helped in causing it. According to the radio, the war situation looks plenty good and perhaps big things are under way, but for myself, I'd just rather wait and see. Still a fellow can't keep his enthusiasm down with all the good reports that come in, particularly about the eastern front, which is little short of marvelous.

Haven't been bicycling for quite a while, yet if you would take up such sport, I imagine I could get back in trim and probably give you a good race. Have been playing some baseball to keep from getting the "Milwaukee Goiter" you talk about and which you think you are heavily endowed with. Lots of golf would banish such imagination from your mind and allow you to tighten up your belt a notch or so.

You are right about mail being held up, yet right now it is coming through fairly fast and I imagine you won't have much wait for my mail unless unexpected things happen. Probably I will get the knife one of these days soon, as it takes longer for packages to come over. Then, too, I am looking forward to getting the candy from Glenna and Mrs. Sorenson.

Everyone should see this part of the world, as you say, because one realizes what a wonderful country we have. There are some beautiful things, and rare old things of ancient history, yet interwoven are the threads of ancient history, with all their battles and sorrows; and there is none of the cleanliness and wide-spaced enthusiasm over the very joy of living as we know it in the states. Here, life is built upon layer and layer of downtrodden lives, while in the United States we are still climbing clean steps and breathing the pure air not contaminated by oppression and depression of life.

Weather has been pretty good for several days and the sun shone a few times with enough warmth to imagine summer is here, yet I suppose we shall pass into fall without even realizing summer.

Take care of yourself, Pa, and save up some good stories of your adventures to tell me and I'll try to think up a few good ones to pass on to you someday when we can sit down to a glass of good, cold beer, and then maybe drink another one — just for luck.

Love to all, Norb

Headquarters, Third US Army SGS Section APO #403, % Postmaster New York, New York

Somewhere in France 16 August 1944

Dear Dad:

By this time you will have read a lot about us and that we are strictly "on the ball". Without bragging, which isn't a good thing, I might say that we are doing pretty fair, don't you think. Believe me, this is the hardest work I have ever done; that is, the lifting and scurrying around when moving around, together with the volume of work that comes in, but still I feel great and am getting as hard as nails. Have come to the point where I can sleep anywhere and on anything. You'd be surprised at some of the places I've been in. Weather has remained wonderful all the time, ideal for everything we have done.

Not too long after some of the great battles were over, I went through some of the places you've read about. A fellow gets a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach to go into and through a town, now so peaceful and quiet, where a short time ago all fury, outdoing all the elements at their wildest, tore and twisted at the pitiful structures men called their homes and places of business. Gaping craters, evidence of extreme accuracy, were everwhere and helped to tell the tale of why we were passing through in safety. Littered roads of enemy tanks and guns and cars, now quiet, yet a few short hours before burning so swiftly and suddenly that occupants had little time to escape. Wreckage in the hidden side roads proved, too, that there was no escape from our air forces. Now and then, though, there would be a town almost untouched except for a few pockmarks here and there, proving that the enemy had no other thought at that time except to escape onward. Some of the towns were like Saturday night in Nebraska small towns, with almost the entire population already having returned to take up their lives, a strange contrast to scenes a few miles away.

Now, all the above is what I have seen, not what I've experienced. My work is still the same as always and as always, routine, so you needn't have a worry. Everything moves so fast that it is hard to keep track of it all, proving that the long years of preparation for this one final crushing blow, were not wasted and I believe and know that all the people of the United States can be proud who have helped to make this possible.

It does something to a guy to go by a shattered home, where an old couple are getting ready to take up their lives again. As we go by, they proudly turn and face us, a smile on their faces, and the old man's right hand goes up in military salute to us. They know now that they can once again rebuild in a peace that everyone prays will be a lasting peace.

The little French boys and girls, some shiningly clean and others as grubby as those near home, are learning fast that Yanks are storehouses of wealth. They stand by the sides of roads as tremendous convoys go by, never tiring of waving their hands, or throwing kisses, and the responses are enthusiastic. A flood of candy, gum, and cigarettes descend around them. You might think that the kids would turn the cigarettes over to their fathers, and I guess he gets a few of them, but it seems that most of the young boys of not more than five or six have already discovered the habit and they go nonchalantly down the street puffing smoke, never a care in the world. There are certainly a lot of beautiful French girls and a fellow wishes he had a few hours to spend in the towns, but the whole wave is moving onward. Then too, in some of the buildings, marked with a white tape, there might be enough explosive in the form of a booby-trap to destroy, so the towns are usually "off-limits" to military personnel. I don't envy the engineers in their jobs of clearing mine fields and neutralizing booby-traps. So we spend our moving time in throwing candy and gum, and cigarettes to the people as we go by. If, for a second, we should stop in a town, little kids run up to the car, shake us by the hand, and ask "cigareet?" Thus each days happenings become repitition as the days go on.

It's good to be able to write of some of the things that go on and I think my letters will be more interesting to you as time goes on. It was pretty hard to write the same old stuff to you and I imagine it was pretty tough to have to read it. Believe me, Dad, we've got the punch and it's packed solid.

Love, Norb.

Somewhere in France 12 September 1944

Dear Dad:

Was surprised to get a letter from you dated the 29th of August. Mail has been so slow that it is really good to get letters which are practically written yesterday. So Walt is in Australia. When he started out to go to sea, he went fast. I know that the work will be more interesting for him now than it has been in the past just sitting in the office, and it will amaze everyone, including himself, how much he will change in his thoughts and reactions as time passes. Believe it will be a little rough on him at first because he is suddenly thrown into a pretty fast-moving company right from almost a civilian occupation. Things that seemed very important to him in Omaha will lose their importance, and the little things that never seemed worth giving much thought, will become of more and more interest to him. At least that is the way it was with me.

Now, Dad, Congratulations, and I do mean congratulations, for taking the job as night bellman at the Fontenelle Hotel. I was really pleased to read about it in your letter and I think it is about the best move you could make. Night work isn't so easy on the sleep, but it has its compensations, and I know you will get quite a kick out of it. "Meet the People" Nelson, they will call you, for you'll meet plenty of them there. No kidding, I couldn't be more pleased that you have a job there, even if you only decide to take it for a short while, because that is the best hotel in Omaha. Course, with the old man all dressed-up in his new clothes, "hair" combed back, he makes a pretty striking figure and an asset to the hotel. Probably you have met Lloyd Bumpus who was night manager there when I was in Omaha. He is a member of W.O.W Camp 16 and is very active in Woodmen affairs. Suppose he will still remember me. Good fellow. Now, when we do go to Florida you can always fall back on the hotel business to earn a little extra dough now and then. If you do leave that job because of the night hours, I hope you will get something else in the same line, or at least where you can relax and meet people and not do any real physical labor for a time. You have had plenty of that in the past. Of course you will exercise enough to keep from getting soft, but you can afford to take it easy. Anyway, I sure feel good after reading about your job.

It is getting cooler and cooler over here every night, just as it must be in Omaha. Am bivouacked in a woods, beneath pine trees, sleeping on a cot in a pup tent, although the ground is like a mattress from years and years of accumulations of pine needles and moss — sink in a foot each time I walk. Days are warm and beautiful, except for the spell of rain we had recently when it stayed cold; but when night comes the temperature sinks rapidly and it's plenty cool long about morning. Am working the night shift again, so I do my sleeping in the cool of the morning and wake up when the sun is beating down on the pup tent and it is warm, a nice feeling. Feeling very good and still gaining weight. Can't tell you what part of France we are in, but it is a beautiful part. There hasn't been much Boche activity for a long time in the air around here, except for an occasional flight he makes over the area once in a while at night, so the only contact I have actually had with Germans is the confiscated food we are eating now and then, such as German sugar and canned food. Perfectly good food captured in warehouses along the lines. Although we don't need their food, still it isn't good policy to waste anything. Fact of the matter is, almost all of the Champagne I've had occasion to drink, has come from stuff the Germans took from the French and which we (that is the forces) recaptured. Then I've had some Cogniac (Martell's) a good brand, and some Calvados and Eau d'vie (water of life). Calvados and Eau d'vie are apple drinks and much distilled. Seems to be lots of it around but I can't go the stuff, preferring to wait for Champagne. There's not a lot of opportunities to drink, so getting a drink is quite an occasion for celebration.

When you write that I am in for the duration, you aren't kidding — especially after reading about the discharge plan. Stacked up against some of the fellows, I won't have even enough points for any consideration. Some of my buddies are fellows who have been overseas for two years, with four battle stars to their credit, while I have been here just a comparatively short time, with only this actual campaign to my credit. However, time marches on and when this mess is cleaned up it won't take too long to clean up the other one. Incidentally, in that picture I sent you, with the exception of Freedman, the big fellow, and LaMagdaleine, the dark, tall guy, and Hudson, who isn't in the picture, and Oates, a boy from South Carolina, the others are all old campaigners (except, I forgot to add Buels, who is Chief Clerk and who came with us); the rest have far more service than I have had. Also LaMagdeleine, Freedman and myself have been in service by month far less than the rest, so they (the old-timers) have the big priority under the plan. But I can't kick, for things have been fairly easy for me and I'm actually saving far more than I would as a civilian. Should have a fair bank account when I get home — that happy day.

Haven't received the package yet, but expect it almost any time. Received the two small boxes of candy and they were very good. Was able to get a hold of a fair sized piece of German paratrooper parachute, which I will send to you in a short time. It's a camouflage job, of good silk and it should make you some good ties, plus some for Glenna and a piece as a souvenir for Buddy. Very beautiful coloring scheme. Also trying to get some perfume for Glenna and the rest, but haven't been successful up to now. The perfume here is very good and would be expensive in the States, so I'll ship some home as soon as I get it. The Huns left plenty of stuff behind when they moved on and we take advantage of it. Incidentally, all the fellows wear scarves made from parachutes (to keep warm and to keep their collars from looking too messy). Not always too easy to find the time or place to wash clothing.

Nothing else to report. Sure was good to read about your job.

Love from your son, Norb.

Somewhere in France 25 Sep 44

Dear Dad:

Received a letter from you dated the 6th of September and happy to learn that you are still holding on to the job at the Fontenelle, with hours not too bad and enough funny things happening to make the job interesting. And I know how you feel regarding the type of entertainment some of the so-called elite go in for. Well, it's a funny world with plenty of funny people in it.

That French money I sent Glenna is only a small portion of the stream of things I have been sending — mostly Stars and Stripes and I will send you copies of various things like that whenever possible. Am sending you a couple of postcards of a place called SENS, a place I visited that is now permissible to write about in a general way. Have some other beautiful cards, but can't send them for quite a while yet. The line-up on the picture I sent you is about this way — from left to right (I believe since I don't have a copy handy) Major Pfann, Captain Maurer, Mr. Buels (CWO), R. M. Delmont (now M/Sgt), myself, T/3 J. Rosevich (now Tech Sgt) T/3 Melvin Freedman (now Tech/Sgt) and T/4 Don LaMagdeleine. The picture doesn't show Sgt I. L. Oates or T/3 Tom Hudson, who are in the section also. Makes quite a group doesn't it, and it is permissible to show it to anyone or everyone now. Nothing of military value in it. In a little while you ought to get the piece of parachute I've sent you and Glenna should get the perfume. Sure hope the perfume doesn't break because it is good stuff.

Had a very nice letter from Mr. Bradshaw and a beautiful one from Mrs. Bradshaw. Their grandson Demy Zerbe, who was in training in Florida in an Infantry outfit is now overseas somewhere in Italy. Must write to her soon because it was a swell letter. There are very few people like them in this world.

Getting much colder here now and an overcoat felt good to come on night duty. However the office is fairly warm, so the nights won't bother me much. We are in a nice area and that is all I can say about that. Work has been pretty heavy for quite a while and it kept me going plenty, but I believe it has slackened up a little or maybe I am getting more used to it. Haven't heard from the girl in Texas for some time — guess the time and distance angle is proving out — oh, well, I have too much to do to be real attentive anyway, so I'll wait until I get back home one of these fine days to start romancing around.

Appreciate Walt Sorenson saving the champagne and Lorraine the wine, and we'll sure be celebrating won't we. I hope the stuff doesn't have the opportunity to be well-aged by the time I get home. Sent Walt a copy of Stars and Stripes and will send him others. Also would like to join his organization as soon as possible — you know — the Veterans of Foreign Wars. Can't see the other outfit at all.

Thank's for wanting to send the World Herald to me, but I don't think it is too good an idea. We get several of the local papers here, weeks after things have happened. What I would like you to do is save special issues and clippings of this outfit because it gets in the news now and then, don't you think? Not much use in sending the whole paper because the news would be old by the time it got here.

*[Letter ends here — page appears incomplete]*

Somewhere in Luxembourg 1 January 1944

Dear Dad:

Happy New Year, Dad, and may each day bring renewed happiness and joy. From where I am sitting, it's not hard to believe that most of the next year will indeed be Happy. The war seems to be going right along, and most things look pretty good.

Since there has been some slight change in my location, you can understand why I've been pretty busy and couldn't find much time to write. This land up here is very beautiful, and if you've ever read any of the advertising about this land, I can assure you that it is much as advertised and I believe it is just about the nicest country in Europe (course I haven't seen them all). It is so much like our own middlewest that it is almost unbelievable. Almost completely modern in every respect, with practically everyone speaking a fair brand of English. And the beer! At least 6 percent and rivals the beer you occasionally drink. If only the war was over, it would be great to tour northern Europe because there is plenty to see, and do. The people here have a lot of pride in their little land and seemed very grateful when our forces arrived to save them once again from the Heinies. Well, they have a lot to be proud of. The newspapers and radio are saying what we did this time is amazing in its speed, and they are right, but there could be no way of expressing the amount of work it all entailed and the deep thought over every little action, which once again proves that we have the highest in leadership and that there is some Great Power overseeing everything we do. After I get back home, if you've saved these letters, I'll have some real tales to tell you, using the letters to remember by. But until then, 'nuff said.

Had a nice V-Mail letter from Aunt Mabel. It was dated the 12th of December and almost proves that V-Mail is faster now than Air Mail, at least coming this way. Don is on his way across to this part of the world, as an infantry replacement, having come through his training well. Someday I might see him over here. Jim got called into the Army instead of the Navy, Ardith is working at the Express Office, Mabel is home watching the baby, and she says Glenna owes her a letter. Don and Jim will both be in the toughest racket there is, the infantry, but don't let Mabel or Ardith know I said so. Also got a V-Mail letter from Aunt Lillian, which was all about you. Boy, I've got lots of letters to write, but they'll all have to be V-Mail if I'm going to catch up.

Hope Gerald is back on his feet now and hasn't suffered any ill effects from his operation. He took it all cheerfully enough, according to his letter.

Please tell Glenna again, or let her read this, that I'll answer her as soon as I possibly can, with a long letter. Actually I owe her a bunch of letters, but I really couldn't find the time recently. Tell her to keep on writing anyway.

The day is clear, a golden sun shining on new snow, and a crispness in the air reminding me of ice-skating days in Omaha. You'd sure like it here.

Love, Norb

Somewhere in Luxembourg 1 February 1945

Dear Dad:

Just received the letter you wrote on January 22d, which is very good time. It sure is good to hear that you are settled in Portland for the winter, away from all the cold winds and ice of Omaha. I feel the same way about spending winters in cold climates and am thinking very seriously about settling down along the west coast or in Florida. Course it has been cold here with lots of snow and I haven't minded it so much. It's been tough on the fellows in the line because sometimes there were big drifts and almost impossible to get around. Fortunately I'm in a fairly nice place to work and have good sleeping quarters and a warm place to work.

Guess my letter telling you about receiving the sweater and the good socks didn't get to you. The things were fine and the socks were just what I needed. The Army issued us heavy sweaters and so I'm almost too warm. We also got the new sleeping bags and they are just the thing. Very easy to sleep warm. I think all the packages got to me, at least I got a lot of them. Had about three boxes from you almost all at once.

Since the Russian drive opened, we all have some high hopes, but we don't let the hopes get too high. The Heinies are fighting fiercely and it might take quite a lot longer to really smash them and bring peace to this part of the world. Everything seems in a state of unrest and even the end of the war won't bring contentment to all the people of Europe. From all indications, it will take Germany a generation or two to rebuild what has been destroyed and it's the same all over Europe.

There hasn't been much other excitement since last month, although there has been plenty of other things to keep a guy busy. We've had more snow over here this winter than this little country has known for a long time. Once in a while the temperature gets down below zero, but there hasn't been a lot of wind and walking is invigorating to say the least. Have met some nice people and have an invitation to dinner soon. Every once in a while I get an afternoon off and a few beers and take it easy. Not much else to do

Enjoyed the "Crazy Letters" you sent me — funny how some people interpret things and how they express themselves. Had recent letters from Bob and Howard. Bob doesn't care much about Denver now and would like to go to the Coast after the war is over. They all seem to be doing pretty well, now. Also got some cards and letters from people at the Woodmen.

Golly, I wish I could think of something interesting to write about, but outside of the war, and we can't take liberties with that, there really isn't anything to write about. I feel great and have lost some of my excess from doing some walking. Please take care of yourself and keep well.

Love, Norb.

PS: In case you've forgotten, those Crazy Letters were the ones published in some sort of newspaper out there and were about the war and the draft.

Somewhere in Luxembourg 6 February 1945

Dear Dad:

Haven't had a letter from you for several days, but did get a very nice letter from Aunt Lillian in which she told of your coming back, feeling tired from the long trip, and that you were resting and taking it easy. Am so glad you are near her where she can drop in on you once in a while. Since I know you are with her, I won't worry any about you. Just take it easy and don't try to do too much because we've got a lot of things to do together when this war is over. We both have to be in good condition to take that trip to Alaska and other places.

We aren't so busy right now and it's just as well because we have been plenty busy. Usually, though, we only have a short time without doing very much and all of a sudden something happens. Never a dull moment in this business. Was out to a dinner last night and had a wonderful time. There were two other G-I's and myself, at a home of a nice little family. Their only child, a boy of about fifteen, is an excellent English speaker and what with learning the slang that's tossed around so much, he'd fit in anyplace in the States. Very intelligent. His mother and father are very gay and we sure had a great evening, although we had to leave early because of curfew.

Still reading and hearing about the Russians. Looks like Uncle Joe has only stopped for a breather and he'll begin again very soon and I wouldn't be a bit surprised to see the Germans run as they've never run before. You know, probably it won't take so long before all the war is over. Once this mess is cleaned up and we can concentrate on the Pacific, the monkeys will begin to look for their trees in a hurry. News from the Philippines is plenty good and all in all the whole picture is brighter now than anyone thought possible.

We have a picture show every other night, some good and some very poor. Saw Abbott and Costello in their Harem picture and thought it lousy. Recently saw Kismet and had about the same opinion of that. Frankly, it seems that the B pictures are better than the A pictures these days. For example, there's a movie called "My Pal Wolf", or something like that; just a simple story of a kid and a dog, but I enjoyed it as did a lot of others because it was pure entertainment without any showing of artistry, so called.

Sure funny weather here. After so many days of cold and snow, it suddenly turned warm and rained, melting all the snow and making plenty of mud. There's almost a feel of spring in the air; even the grass is green and the trees beginning to bud. However, old ground hog saw his shadow for sure, and it can still get plenty cold. Our billets are fine and warm and we're plenty lucky for that.

Think perhaps I've lost a little weight. Well, I was developing three chins, and can only afford one extra one, so maybe it's just as well. I feel fine otherwise. Still brushing my hair and imagining it's getting thicker, but probably the only thing that's getting thicker is my skull.

Take care of yourself, Pappy, and enjoy all the west you can.

Love, Norb.

Somewhere in Luxembourg 15 February 1945

Dear Dad:

Have a letter from you dated the 5th of February. Mail service is really improving, although I believe mail comes faster from where you are than where Glenna is. Also got a letter from Walt, the first I'd received from him. He is well and doing fine. Says it is plenty hot in the Admiralty's, where he has been, with temperatures of 140 degrees and the dampness rotting clothing being worn. He misses everyone, especially his daughter, but feels he is in the same boat with a lot of other guys and is letting it go at that. Same old Walt, very serious and practical. It was great to hear from him and I wrote him right away, giving him all the news and telling him where you are. Also heard from Howard and he certainly feels the same way as you do about control of Germany and the punishment for them. Far as I am concerned, Russia can call the plays and probably save the world a lot of trouble in years to come. We'd probably be too soft hearted after a while, but Russia won't, although I believe they'd be just in most things.

Guess I must have forgotten to tell you I received the sweater a while back and it was swell during the cold days. Now the weather is warm with spring and the grass is turning green. Even the mud is hardening a little and perhaps soon it will be possible to get off the roads without sinking up to the neck in ooze. Never saw such mud in my life and in some places it seems bottomless. Today was beautiful and we had windows open to let in the warm air. This was one of the worst winters in history in this part of the country, but that is the usual thing for this outfit. No matter where we are, it either rains more, or is cloudier, or something else, than ever before. So far we've managed to hold our own against the weather and with a little luck now and then, we manage to keep going.

Hasn't been a lot of activity recently and we've all been taking it fairly easy. But that won't last very long and perhaps we'll be working harder than ever after a time. That's the way it usually is. The food we are getting is fine and we even had cream puffs for desert this noon. Some stuff, eh! Also got a drink of Schenleys recently, the first good stuff I've tasted over here and practically impossible to get anymore. Course there is always beer, but you know me, one or two drinks and I'm satisfied. Makes me too fat anyway and I seem to be gaining weight hand over fist.

Wish you could get some light job and keep a little busy because you are too active to sit still long. Perhaps if you do get something to do and stay in Portland for a while, the time will pass faster and soon I'll be walking in on you and we could plan some of those trips you always wanted to take. These new sleeping bags are honeys and we could camp out and do a little fishing. Anyway, try and have some fun, but save some of the fun-making until I get home.

Love, Norb

Somewhere in Luxembourg 4 March 1945

Dear Dad:

Was very glad to get the letter you wrote on February 18th because I hadn't heard from you for a little while. Your letter was waiting for me when I got back from a trip to Paris, the first pass I have had in a long, long time. The trip up and back was kind of cold, but Paris was warm, though cloudy. Luckily it didn't rain. Took a few pictures there and as soon as I get them developed I'll send them to you. While there I took a trip around the City via a Red Cross tour; saw the Eifel Tower, Notre Dame Cathedral, the Madeleine Church, Tomb of Napoleon, and of course the Arc de Triomphe. An excellent guide explained everything in detail so the trip was extremely interesting and I suppose educational. The Tower is tremendous and covers a lot of ground which is beautifully landscaped. The Cathedral was built in the 13th and 14th Century and unfortunately hasn't ever been heated, so an accumulation of cold air greets everyone visiting. Am told it seats 20,000 and very little remodeling has ever been done on the inside. The Madeleine Church is built on old Roman lines, with the huge pillars along the outside. Was a little disappointed in the Arc for it needed a lot of rehabilitation and most of all a good cleaning. All pictures show it in color, while in reality now it is crusted with dirt. Nevertheless one gets a strange feeling while walking through the Arc and saluting the grave of the Unknown French Soldier. The perpetual light, I know, is a symbol that the world has not forgotten, yet in this new war it seems almost to indicate that the flame of war will never die out as long as there are people on earth living in desire for things that others possess. Since you are planning on returning to Omaha in April, I sent some postcards to Glenna, not knowing how long they would take to reach the States. I used them to pack a little perfume gift for her, but she will either hold the cards for you if you are coming to Omaha, or send them to you. I also have some other cards, but unfortunately they are Parisian in every way and can not be sent through the mails, so I'll have to carry them with me until I reach home. There were too many things to occupy my time, so I didn't get to take the trip to Versailles. Seems as though I missed the best part of the trip, but perhaps I'll get another chance someday.

Now that I've given you the education side, perhaps I should tell something of the night life and agree with those that say that the women of Paris are the most beautiful of all the world. No matter how disagreeable life may be for them at this time, they still manage to look beautiful and smart in their "latest" Parisian styles. Each Avenue is a fashion parade and each night the people of Paris promenade as though the war were over or at least far away. Yet the war is close, and food still hard to get. There is no heat in the hotels; cafes are only taverns and the black market speakeasy has the community standing of our prohibition day speakeasy. A package of cigaretttes is worth its weight in gold, if sold, and even cigarette stubs on the streets hardly have time to stop rolling before someone snatches them up to be rerolled. A bar of chocolate is not something to be quickly eaten, it is a delicacy to be fondled and enjoyed and exclaimed over before an insatiable hunger too quickly devours its life. The war has effected Paris in the most terrible of ways, yet there is always a laugh and a smile, and because of that laugh and smile soon Paris will again be as great as before if not greater. New York will try to steal the fashion parade during these times, yet Paris will still be the fashion center just because Paris is a life unto itself.

So, I had a few cognacs, a few glasses of wine and tramped for miles each day. The Metro, or subway system is free to soldiers and I managed to ride over most of the lines. The Paris underground railway seems in better condition than the one in New York and is fully as fast.

A couple of nights I managed to find burlesque shows, including the Follies Bergere. Incredible as it may seem, the Follies Bergere is tastefully done and the scenerey is marvelous, that is the inanimate scenerey. As to the living scenery all I can say is oo-la-la and Tres Bien! As to any other statements or accounts of happenings, they will have to wait until I see you, since this paper is not asbestos.

Sure wish I could give you a better account of the trip, but I guess I'll have to mull over the happenings for several months until I come out of my daze. Today I'm back at work and feeling fine except for a slight cold.

I see by your clipping that Portland had a little snow. We are getting flurries here today.

Hope you got up to the Bonneville Dam to see the Salmon run and also that you are in swell health right now and getting around plenty. Take good care of yourself. No telling when this war will end and we've got a lot of things to do together.

Give my best to Auntie!

Love, Norb.

Somewhere in Germany V-E Day 8 May 45.

Dear Dad:

The radio, the press, and incoming messages prove that the war in Europe is over. No longer the sound of big guns in the distance, the flashes in the night, the occasional off-center beat of a wandering German plane, the terrific vibration and thunder of giant Allied bombers rumbling through the sunlit sky, the chatter of a strafing plane over the Autobahn, the red flames of a direct hit by a Jerry calling card. No longer tracer bullets in the evening sky, the screaming whirr of air raid sirens, the excitement of knowing there were German patrols very near, the sudden spang of a sniper's bullet. And no longer the long rides to new areas where the unloading and setting up of new headquarters, the pitching of pup tents where a few hours before big guns had shattered trees for many miles, the eating of K-Rations, the occasional drink from a captured bottle of Champagne or cognac. Today the war is officially over, yet for the knowledge that this silence prevails, there is no other indication, no celebration of the day we, in this section, banded together for work over fourteen months ago, when our liner docked in Scotland. There is still the ever-present thought of the many months of work left before we can close up shop. Millions of displaced people still roam the countries of Europe, millions might starve this next winter if their endeavors are not guided in the right direction. Thus the thousands upon thousands of little details must be correctly tabulated, the temperature of a very sick world must be constantly recorded. There is still the diseased portion over in the Pacific and all the skill and wisdom we posess must be used before the armies can complete the operation in final victory. Here, too, there is no blowing of horns, no sudden elation among the people, for they have been conquered. Yet almost one senses the relief they feel over cessation of the terrible bombings that shattered unbelievable numbers of huge cities until only rubble remains; although the bewilderment of its sudden ending, the uncomprehension that they no longer must hide themselves deep in the earth, still leaves a haze that will take many months to completely remove. Then, too, these people must learn to govern again; must know that the world will never again permit their sadistic impulses to bubble over. They must learn to have confidence in others, to trust one another. So — there is one big job over here — and impulses for huge celebrations are curbed by sober realizations.

Just got the letter you wrote on April 20th, and answering right back, will send this letter through Glenna, to you. Who knows, you might be in Omaha by now because the end of May is still quite a ways off, and you sound just a wee bit homesick. We were sorry to read of Ernie Pyle's death. Have seen most of the other correspondents who work over here, but never saw him. Incidentally, was introduced to Marlene Dietrich not too long ago. Tell you all about it some day. She is prettier than on the screen, but, since she wore slacks, I didn't get the million dollar eyefull.

Well, Dad, keep on feeding the pigeons and stay out in the sunshine until you get a good tan, for it might be possible for me to get home one of these months and I'd sure want you to be in good shape to keep up with me.

The day is warm and the sun is shining. This is a beautiful part of Germany.

Love, Norb

19 May 1945 Regensburg, Germany

Dear Dad:

Censorship, insofar as locations and other things not pertaining to future military operations, has been lifted. Thus we are permitted to tell the tall tales of the past. Of course mail will still be checked to some extent at the Base Censors, so any human anecdotes, or views on likes and dislikes of the Army, must still be kept to a minimum. Otherwise the field is wide open — witness my location at Regensburg, Germany. This town, evidence of results of strategic bombing, is almost in the center of the province of Bavaria, yet close to Czechoslovakia and Austria. Thus, this was the place we were when the war ended and the place where blackout restrictions were lifted.

To begin the tale: As you probably know, we were alerted at Fort Sam Houston on January 1st 1944, shortly before I came home on my last furlough. After returning to Fort Sam from Omaha, we had all the details of getting a complete Army Headquarters ready for overseas shipment, the first intact Headquarters of that type ever to go over in war time. Usually a headquarters is formed from miscellaneous units after arrival in zone of operations.

On February 16th we left Fort Sam on a train trip that took four days, twisting and turning over every conceivable type of trackage to keep the enemy from knowing our destination. Several times we returned to cities and took out over another line. However, finally, by way of Washington, DC, we arrived at Camp Shanks, which is in Jersey, across the Hudson from New York and the Port of Embarkation. There we arrived in the cold of winter, after the spring of the south. We were installed on top of a hill, in wooden barracks, complete with coal stoves that kept the atmosphere full of soot all the time we were there. It was quite a place, though, with theaters, service clubs, and post exchanges which sold everything we could ask for. Every other evening we were allowed to go to New York City, by train or bus, provided we were back by dawn. Fortunately, Melvin Freedman had lived in New York and so I was able to see most of the sights and go to the right places. Over three weeks passed, each day filled with hikes, pack-rolling, marking of equipment, replacing worn out items, KP in the huge mess hall, and just relaxing, until the 13th of March when we took our last look at the Camp as we trudged down the long hill to the trains. Across the river by ferry, to the Port. To cheering music by a WAC Band, we climbed the long gangway into the belly of the Ille de France, once flagship of the French Merchant Marine, now serving as a troop ship. Another bit of good fortune, in that I was assigned to a canvas bed on Boat Deck, whereas countless others had to spend their time below the level of the water. Thus it was possible to watch the shoreline and see the "Old Lady" waving to us as we disappeared into the morning fog.

The trip was surprisingly uneventful. We steamed far south into tropical sunlight, then veered sharply north, in a continuous zigzag, with only one real submarine scare. The old Ille is a very fast ship so we didn't have to wait for a convoy. It's a good ship, with little vibration from the huge motors, and its armament was heavy enough to withstand air attacks and give a good account in any other kind of fight. Each day we had boat drill, although we didn't have to move around because we were already on boat deck. However, for several minutes the ship would echo the sounds of thousands of heavy shoes, and the voice on the loud speaker in all its monotone would repeat, "Move on the double time. There will be no smoking; there will be no talking; move on the double time". In the nine days of the crossing we spent a lot of time on deck and the weather was very fine. Four times we set our watches ahead one hour as we travelled east. Finally one evening, the 21st, I believe now, we crawled up the Furth of Clyde, to a point near Glasgow, Scotland. It was a beautiful day, with wisps of fog clinging momentarily to the blueness of the Scottish hills. Little villages nestled between the hills and smoke curled lazily in the morning air. Perhaps we weren't too impressed with all the scenery, but I can assure you we were impressed with the huge sign advertising a particular brand of Scotch Whiskey.

We had to leave the ship by "lighter", a sort of ferry, and in about an hour we landed on the shores of wee 'bonny' 'Scotsland'. It was quite a reception. A band of Highlanders skirled their pipes in the approved fashion, while vagrant breezes lifted the skirts of the bandsmen. The Red Cross was there too, with welcome hot coffee and doughnuts. In a compartmented train we grabbed the last cup of coffee before the engineer sounded the shrill whistle of departure from the little Port town. All that day and into the night we rolled across England and Scotland. About 1:30 in the morning the train slowed to a stop in Chelford, England. Actually I never did see Chelford, because it was pitch dark, blackout regulations strictly enforced, and we were all too tired to do more than tumble out of the train into waiting trucks. It was so dark that a match flared up like a lighthouse. Within an hour we arrived at the new Camp where we were to spend long-houred days preparing for finality. Peover Hall, built in the 18th Century, home of Ladys, Lords, Dukes and Barons, centered in meadows once part of a vast estate but now divided into blocks of farms, was the new home.

Nearby was the antique center of England, the village of Knutsford, and only 25 miles away, the city of Manchester. In Knutsford they located a Red Cross Club for us where we could have more doughnuts and coffee. There were two little theaters in the town where we could see all the old pictures, plus numerous Pubs to quench our thirsts.

In Peover Camp we lived in tents. In the center of each tent was a greedy stove, which gave forth tremendous heat for a few hours of the evening before bedtime, only to be cold in the morning. English weather at any time is rather "nippy" shall we say, and during March, April and May it was even more penetrating than that. We learned how to dress beneath covers, to catch that last little warmth still existing before dashing to the Old-England Style wash room where long troughs accommodated us all. After eating, we were off to work in Peover Hall. So, until June 30th we spent every waking minute, day in and day out with only an occasional afternoon off to visit Manchester, or Knutsford, in planning all the details of the part Third Army was to play. There were countless briefings before huge maps, to show all the various commanders just what part they would play. At first the highly secret nature of everything weighed heavily on us all, but gradually we became accustomed to it all. However, there was no outside discussion of events of the day. On June 6th we heard the great invasion armada of bombers and fighters soar overhead. No one knew the exact date of invasion, so we were all relieved to find that the great event had actually started. Anyway, on June 30th we left Peover Hall for Braemore House, near Salisbury and Southampton. The whole area near Salisbury was sealed from outside contacts; even the people living there had to account for all time spent away from their homes.

On July 4th we left Braemore in a long convoy, past other long convoys, to the Port where we had to sleep in our vehicles one full night before boarding our LST. Then another night aboard the LST while the ship edged out to meet a convoy. Those funny, yet effective, barrage baloons soared high over the ship. I slept on deck in the back of a Command and Reconnaissance Car, shielded from the wind by a great canvas, yet able to peer out at the moon that lighted everything as daylight.

Better close this chapter now and continue on in my next letter. Hope this gives you an idea.

Love, Norb

Bad Tölz, Germany 26 May 1945

Dear Dad:

This is written in a former SS Caserne, deep in the foothills of the Bavarian Alps, south of Munich. Looking out the window I can see tremendous snow-covered peaks as far as the eye can view. It's quite a change from Regensburg, since Regensburg was warm and this place is fairly cool due to the altitude. However, it is very healthy, or would be if it did not rain almost every day. The other night the sunset was breathtaking. All the colors of a brilliant rainbow, casting soft light over the numberless shades of green, stretching from the deep green of grass around the Caserne, to the lighter shades of the forests as they crept up the mountains. In the Caserne we have a tremendous gymnasium, complete with all athletic apparatus, plus fencing foils. There is a great swimming pool, completely tiled, and individual dressing rooms, showers; and the water is heated to take away the sharp chill of mountain springs. So far I have been swimming twice and beginning to get the kinks out of my muscles. My room is directly over the office, steam-heated, and complete with built-in closets. Across the hall are bathrooms with Kohler of Kohler fixtures, complete with bathtubs. The caserne also has an enormous kitchen, all electric, plus a laundry to insure plenty of clean clothing. Actually I have never seen anything to compare with this building, built in shape of a hollow square, drill field and park in the center. There must be thousands of rooms and it would take long hours to explore it all. Oh, yes, there is an auditorium where we can show the latest pictures. It seats 600 or more, seats arranged in a semi-circle, with a long circular desk in front of each row of seats. Huge chandeliers give plenty of light. What a place! Can you imagine the tremendous amount of slave labor that went into the building of this substantial place and the untold wealth of other countries gathered to furnish the thousands of rooms? In their ruthless desire to build an officers' candidate school for the elite SS Troops, they tapped every possible source and facility. Now we sit as conquerors to try and solve the terrible problems of straightening out the shattered lives of millions of people.

Well, now to go on with the story I had started in my last letter to you. I believe I left off about the time we were on the LST crossing the channel in July. The weather was wonderful for the trip and we spent all the time on deck, watching the flotsam from unfortunate craft and all the rubish from the beaches. The barrage baloons reflected the soft sunlight as we approached Utah beach. Watchful fighter planes soared in the skies and we could hear the dull boom of explosives in the distance. Since we came in at high tide we had to wait until the water receded before the jaws of the boat could open for our debarkation. Finally, late in the afternoon, the great door lowered and I came ashore in a Recon Car, through the shallow waters, onto the sandy beaches, past the battered pillboxes that Hitler's legions thought would withstand the onslaught. We assembled between the hedgerows until the convoy was complete, then we rolled for several miles to our initial bivouac area near Nehou, France, on the road to Avranches. It was there we spent the first night in the rain for it was too late to put up our tents. Most of us pulled shelter halfs over cots and managed to wake up in the morning not too damp. Then we had full working days of assembling all the many items needed for the big job. The signal corps had to string wire for contact with other units, mess halls were set up in the open, water supply located, and security guards posted. It was here we heard our first sniper fire, and in an adjacent field the military police flushed a tardy German machine gun crew. Day and night was filled with activity — the nights lighted by flashes of both ours and the Jerry guns. We were fairly comfortable in our dug-in pup tents. We had a battery radio, little cook stoves, and enough blakets to keep us warm. We also tasted our first cognac in a little cafe up the road a ways.

Since we became operation on August 1st, we moved to Muneville le Bingard on July 31st. The next day saw the beginning of the breakthrough of Avranches, the long dash of the armor across the Cotentin peninsula, splitting to speed one column towards Brest. Moving came fast and furious for we had to stay within a short distance of the front lines. On August 2d we hurried to Beauchamps, signal corps having wires in before we arrived. There we took a little time off to practice with our weapons and I got fairly efficient with the 45 — enough so that I could scare a guy to death if I didn't hit him. On August 8th we headed to St.James and Fougeres. The second night after arriving there I was awakened from my sleep. My tent was pitched next to a hedgerow, in a great field. When I crawled out into the open I saw the sky was brilliant, not only from the big moon, but also due to flares which came floating down. There was the throb of many motors and we knew it was a raid. Scarcely a mile away was an important road and we could see the tracer bullets cut the sky and watch the explosion of anti-aircraft fire. Our own machine gun and anti-aircraft crews were completely ready but withheld fire in hopes the planes would not spot us. Fortunately our camouflage was pretty good and there was no firing from our sector. However, the Germans were trying for an ammunition dump a few miles down the road, and two dud bombs fell in the next field. We were lucky because finally the planes disappeared. So back to bed we went.

On the 12th we moved to Laval; on the 14th to LeMans. Remember each time we moved we moved everything and had to set up completely at each place, so I lost a lot of fat and gained some muscle. From LeMans to Braun[e?] on the 20th; then to Pithiviers on the 25th, then to LaChaume on the 30th. It was a ratrace and we were hard put to keep up with the front lines. Down thru part of the Argonnes to Chalons, where we lived in a field that had been a great battlefield of the last war, complete with entrenchments and dugouts, now filled with water and overgrown with weeds. It was here that the fall rains began and the chill of a coming winter began to penetrate. Finally on September 15th we moved into our first billets near Etain, France, and on the 22d of September we moved into Etain itself. We stayed here until October 12th. During this time the Jerries began using their 280 millimeter guns and we were just on the fringe of that, but escaping with no damage. On October 12th our long convoy moved into Nancy, France and we set up in an immense Caserne, with a mess hall and movies every night. Across the Moselle was Jerry, so our blackout regulations were strictly enforced. Occasionally at night enemy planes came nearby and our efficient batteries of anti-aircraft kept them high, or brought them down in flames. Here too, the 280 millimeter guns of the Germans got our range and one night about 18 of the big babies landed in the town. Some damage was caused, but we were still fortunate. One dud landed just a block away and disappeared 30 feet into the ground, so you can imagine the force of the things. So we stayed in Nancy through the first days of winter, and steam heat felt good. Then on December 19th I received word to be prepared to go on an advance party to Luxembourg City, to leave on the 20th. I was, and had been, steno for the Deputy Chief of Staff, so just a few of us took off on a raw, bitterly cold journey to the little Duchy of Luxembourg. Great convoys were moving north, armor and infantry, but we slipped by in our light Jeeps, stopping only to get an estimate of the situation at a Corps Headquarters; then rushing on to the City. At that time no one could guess where the Germans would try to hit, and Luxembourg City was an almost certainty to come under attack. When we arrived we went right to work and worked most of the night coordinating movements of units. Every five or ten minutes the airraid siren would blow and ack-ack would fill the sky to either drive away or destroy German planes. When finally I did get to sleep, the ack-ack would start and we could watch out of big windows the display of lights. That kept up a whole week.

Of course you've read of the prayer that the big boss wrote, and almost miraculously, or so we thought, the skies cleared and our air fleets began hammering the Germans, sending them reeling back. For five beautiful days we watched the show going on — the bombing of Trier and the puffs of ack-ack trying to knock our planes down. Jerry took a beating from then on.

So we stayed in Luxembourg City during the snowy days, taking time off now and then to stroll around and have a glass of beer or two. On March 27th we took off for Oberstein, Germany, into the Palatinate and Eifel land where use of tanks was thought impossible and would have been impossible except to the boss. We lived in a caserne, or barracks high on top of a plateau — cold there, too. Then to Frankfurt am Main on April 3d. We had to go through Mainz, first crossing the Rhine on the longest pontoon bridge in the world. Mainz ain't! There is nothing there but ruins. Oh, yes, I'd forgotten, back in Luxembourg City the Jerries got our range with the 280 again and one shell bounced and exploded in front of our office. Did quite a bit of damage, but work went on. Also in Luxembourg City a bomb or something dropped about a block from where I was sleeping one afternoon, and it woke me up sudden like. My luck held out. No runs, no hits, no errors and I was still on base.

April 11th saw us in Hersfeld, Germany, then on April 22d to Erlangen; and on May 2d we got to Regensburg and saw the war come to an end on May 7th. And now, coming here on May 23d, we are in Bad Tolz. From here — I don't know and your guess is as good as mine.

Got the last letter you wrote from Portland and I suppose you are in Omaha by now. Bet Buddy and the family, plus Pat, were very glad to see you.

Will try to tell you more about some of the things that happened over here in other letters, but just wanted to let you know where I had been in the past. By the way, this is uncensorable stuff, but it still shouldn't be handed around too much. It's just for the family.

Take care of yourself,

Love, Norb *[signature rendered as "Nork" in the scan — almost certainly "Norb"]*

*[page 1 missing]* ...in longhand. I feel very well now and there is plenty for me to do without typing. Then, too, typists and stenos are essential in this theater, so I escape that category and may get home sooner as a result. Now remember, my physical health is excellent — all I needed was to quit typing for a time. Just had my pressure checked today and it was 125 over 80 and that['s] excellent for one of my age.

Would have liked to come home with the "Boss" but there were others far more eligible and I must wait my turn. He's a great man and no one could appreciate it more than we who passed his orders on to the units. I was fortunate in taking part in many major and highly secret plans, and his military brilliance was outstandingly the reason for Third Army's victories. It was a real privilege and a great honor. However, now that the campaigns are over in this part of the world and I have no desire to go further, nor to stay here in this reeking land, I am hoping my points will take me to the states before too long.

This whole land is a cesspool of diseased and disordered brains trying to cleanse themselves of the "fog", yet all too-willingly sinking deeper into self-destruction with the passing of each generation. They look to culture as a picture of a beautiful land, and yet their narrowness of vision confines their thoughts to self-imagined sunlight, not seeing the deepening shadows until too late. It's hard almost to live over here for even a short time without feeling the need for a breath of really fresh air.

American Zone Berlin, Germany 14 August 1945

Dear Dad:

Just received your letter written on Aug 1. It's swell you are feeling much better and I do hope you will relax a lot and try to keep from getting restless so that you will be in shape when I get home. You know if and when the Jap war ends there might be a possibility of my getting home sooner than all of us expected and we sure want to get our fishing in and have a long vacation together. See that you had some good luck in your fishing at Louisville.

I got into Berlin yesterday, by train, since air travel is bad due to weather. A bunch of us settled down in old French coaches and made the trip in a day and a half. Of course we didn't come through central Berlin so the damage wasn't as bad as it could be. Yet all the rail yards are indescribably torn up, with round-houses and a great number of locomotives twisted into heaps of scrap. Hundreds of cars are twisted and burnt and it seems a major job to rebuild even the spur trackage. The main lines are all open and traffic moves fairly fast, yet the loss of equipment is staggering. Many of the cities close to Berlin are only heaps of brick. Can't see how it will all get straightened out, even in ten years.

Saw a great number of Russians. They all have closely-shaven heads and seem to be fairly clean and friendly. They keep their prisoners working hard and stand for no foolishness. I think they will do a good job in handling their portion of Germany. The Russians are not unkind, nor are they brutal, but they will not stand any fooling around.

This will be a terrible place this winter. Already people try to stand near our mess lines to get the last scrap of food before it is tossed into garbage cans. Have seen them pick up bread out of the mud and a cigarette butt, though trampled, is still quickly snatched from the ground. Outside Berlin there are thousands of gardens, yet transportation and the farmers fear over not having enough themselves, plus the ever-present and mighty black market will keep food from the City and this winter will see starvation for many. Even though Germany starved neighboring countries and their brutality is a fact, yet it's hard to watch little children collecting our left-overs. Perhaps we'll get hardened to it all, I don't know. Am planning on getting over to Unter-den-Linden and take some pictures, but there seems to be plenty to do here and of course will have to stick around. Then, too, we all are mostly waiting for news of Japan. Moving cuts off most news and it takes a bit of time to catch up. God grant that it will soon end. The world needs a chance to live once again and the end of the war might help some to eat again. There must be enough food made available to keep people from completely starving, otherwise there will never be a peace. *[one word struck through and illegible]*. Anarchy is a fetid breath that develops from hunger. There is still the stench of death in Berlin and the coming winter can either clear the smell or overpower the air of the City.

Nothing much else to write about. We can make the much-wanted peace for all time here, or we can plant seeds for a future war that will destroy all. If ever we needed wisdom it is here in Berlin, not home in Washington. There can be no "dry-runs"; everything we do here must count.

Love Norb.

P.S. Didn't mail this today at the office, so here's a few more lines. It's now 7:10 PM — about eight or nine hours later than what you have — and we heard that there will be an important announcement by all the Powers, sometime this evening. Perhaps the war is over! I won't hardly believe it. Guess it will take time for it to sink in here. Certainly my 80 points will be good then. Dad, we'll have some real times to celebrate. Saw a show about

*[Letter ends here — page appears incomplete/cut off]*

Hotel Plaza Nice, France 6 Sep 45

Dear Dad:

It's really beautiful here. The weather is ideal and there are a thousand and one things to do. Have had all the fruit and fruit juices I've wanted, plus a little wine and cognac. The last two days I went on some tours; one to Monte Carlo and one to Grasse and Cannes. The busses follow ancient Roman roads, past historic forts and American millionaire homes. Jay Gould spent five million on the Casino which is used by the Red Cross. Saw the place where Napoleon returned to France after his exile, 100 days before Waterloo; saw the Fort wherein was confined the "Man in the Iron Mask"; also the villa where the Duke of Windsor honeymooned with Wally. There are new relics, too, in the Germans so cleverly contrived and the big sea wall of reinforced concrete three feet thick, at La Turbie I saw an ancient place built long before Christ. American rich gave money to build the beautiful road along the beach, to give employment to the French some years ago.

At Grasse I saw Molinard's Perfume factory. Came away smelling like the proverbial rose, and also bought some perfume — about $25.00 worth. am sending it to you to hold for Christmas presents. It's good stuff and smells sweet as I do tonight. Course, if you find someone you wish to give some to, why go ahead and do that.

There are beautiful theaters here and I've seen some shows, but the last days I am here, I'll spend my time in the sun and then go back to Berlin and raise enough hell to get shipped soon. Some ships are leaving with men who have less than 80 points and it's because some outfits, like mine, are trying to hold high-pointers as long as possible. Something should be done to force them to comply with War Department orders. Maybe I'll write to a few people and get things stirred up. There's no reason why low point men should be shipped while there are high-point men available. Publicity is the only thing that will speed some outfits up. Replacements are available and transportation is present. Anyway, I'm going to fight like hell to get shipped soon, or at least get where I can be shipped when my time comes. Wish me luck!

Take care of yourself and I hope to be seeing you soon.

Love Norb.