Although I’m still in too much of a whirl to write a very good post, I am going to see what I can do with this. Anyway, you won’t be able to say you haven’t heard from me since I left N.I. P.S.—right now, I feel as if someone had taken my bread away from me, if I may use that appropriate old German saying. Do you follow me?
You are probably wondering what has been happening to me these past few days. Frankly, I am too!! Well, for one thing, I’m definitely back in the Army! And, although I find that life unpleasant at the Moment, I no doubt will get used to it again. Leaving N.I. and that excellent base and my well-settled life there was exactly like leaving civilian life for the service all over. It will take some time for the shock to wear off, as it did the first time.
Let’s see—I last wrote home on the 1st of July— that was my last letter from N.I. Our transfer orders came out the next day, and we three boys (Bob, Herb, and I) were all packed and ready to go by late Monday night. I said goodbye to Ireland at 3:00 p.m. the next day (Tuesday, July 3rd). We did some fast talking and used our influence to the utmost, with the result that we were able to swing a deal and fly over here instead of fooling around with a train-boat-train trip of some twenty hours duration. Our plane landed at this base only 70 minutes after we took off from Langford Lodge. And so, at 4:10 p.m. last Tuesday, we three found ourselves at Burtonwood, England.
In other words, the transfer came off as anticipated. Much as I hate to think about it, I guess I’ve seen the last of Northern Ireland and Langford and Jayne. I’m just a wee bit disgusted, you might say. But I’ll get over it. I had to leave that place—another few weeks and there won’t be any men stationed in Ireland. Only time will tell if we made an error in requesting this transfer. I have never liked the idea of volunteering for anything in the Army. The whole idea we boys had was that we might possibly get a better deal this way than if we merely sat back and let the Army do what they pleased with us.
Having the two other boys with me has made things easier. They feel the same way, I’m sure. Although I have already run into some of my acquaintances at this place, only the three of us left Langford at that time to come to this exact spot. We should continue to stick together, if things proceed according to plan.
This base is known as Burtonwood. It is a huge, sprawling base, made up of a number of widely-separated areas, or “sites”, as they are called. For all practical purposes, it is really about eight or ten bases or depots situated in the same general vicinity. Compared to Langford Lodge, it seems quite a mess. Whereas Langford was neat and orderly, this place gives the impression of being disorganized and dirty. There has been plenty to eat so far, but otherwise the living conditions are poor indeed. Of course, I am comparing these facilities with what we had in N.I., which might not be quite fair. Our base in N.I. was without doubt one of the best, if not the best, overseas base of the Army, in practically every respect. On the other hand, this place falls below even the average Army standard. It is the most unsatisfactory camp I have yet been stationed at.
If things work out as they should, we boys will not be here too long, which will suit us fine. In the meantime, we will put up with it. It can’t be too terrible—many thousands of GI’s have been living and working here for more than two years, and they seemed to have survived. It merely goes to show that a person soon gets used to new conditions.
Now to tell you exactly where I am. Burtonwood is located about midway between the large cities of Liverpool and Manchester (in northwestern England). (Don’t you find that I tell you “more things” now that censorship has been relaxed?) Both Liverpool and Manchester are about eighteen miles from some part or other of this vast Air Service Command installation. The particular site where I am living is near the outskirts of the city of Warrington. Get out that map again, folks!
I am now assigned to the 31st Statistical Control Unit—no more Sta Compl Sq! The A.P.O. (635) remains the same.
This evening, I wrote a fairly long letter home to Mom, dad, and Bonnie. I wanted to let them hear from me before this but simply couldn’t get going. I did start a letter last night, but decided in the middle of it that it was not a satisfactory one to send home, so I tore it up and let the job slide until tonight.
I couldn’t promise them more than two letters a week so long as I am stationed at places like this. Doing the things in longhand is a long and tiring job for me, so much so that I will do anything to avoid it. By walking a couple of miles I think I will be able to get a hold of a typewriter the necessary two nights each week. I know lots of boys who do worse! I won’t be writing Cleon much at all now—so I’ll ask Mom and Dad to send him their letters!
[letterstohome copyright 2008]