October 17, 1944: A Little Snooty

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, October 17, 1944.

Transcription:

My Darling,

The folks left this p.m., and we had a very nice visit. Last night, I didn't get to see them till a little past nine, and since I had to make bed check at eleven, my time with them was rather limited. I was very glad that I got to see them, for I feel now a little better acquainted with them. They invited me for dinner today, but I didn't think I could be there on account of the fact that we have only one hour lunch time, that the Service Club is one mile away from my barracks, and that I am not supposed to leave the company area between reveille and retreat anyhow. However, it so happened that during the a.m. I got a dental appointment for 2 o'clock; so I could find time at least to see them off on the bus, which left at 1:10pm.

Philip really took them around. He had the car of some lady here on the campus and showed them all over the place. It had been the first time in an army camp for both your mother and father, so I guess they got a big kick out of it.

Honey, your mother told me you had to spend the night in Leavenworth after our last meeting. Did you miss the bus, or what happened? Tell me about it, will you? I remember now that you never wrote to me how you did get home that night, and when.

What do you think of this letter of Winton's? It certainly is too bad that I did not get to see him before he is leaving. He is a strange guy; I don't know whether I am glad about his engagement or not, for even his letter indicates that he will be very selfish even in his married life. I feel very sorry for Peggy; Winton is and can be very charming, but he also can be extremely arrogant and often loses his temper. Also, I fear that the fact that he is being loved was too strong a motive in this engagement. I wished I knew Peggy.

Well, darling, I guess we can plan tentatively on a week from this coming Saturday. The trouble is that I don't get off till after retreat, i.e. six p.m. The last train for Kansas City leaves at 5:35p.m., so we cannot meet then. Could you get the Saturday off? In that case, you could either leave so that you can catch the Missouri Southern out of K.C. at 730a.m., which gets here at 11:59 (noon), and spend the afternoon with Phil, or you could come on the same bus as your folks did, which gets to Joplin at about 6p.m. There are always buses from Joplin to Camp Crowder. I could meet you in Joplin but it is difficult to get hotel reservations there while you can always stay in the guest house here at camp. Think it over and let me know soon what you want to do. Also, it may not be weekend after next but the following one; that depends on my company commander and on the fact that there are others who may want a pass at the same time. Anyhow, we can settle everything else and leave just the date open. I can hardly wait for the day when I can see you again, hold you in my arms, kiss you, and talk things over with you. 

The strangest thing happened. One of our platoon lieutenants looked extremely familiar to me, and he seemed to recognize me too without being able to place me. Finally, we found out: he is, or rather was, one of my Signal Corps pre-Radar students. Quite a coincident, isn't it? Now he is teaching me. He is a swell guy and makes an excellent officer. 

Today in the morning, we had some rather dry lectures. It is a little discouraging for me to see those lieutenants go over everything hundreds of times to get it down to grade school level, and I am getting awfully impatient with the slowness of progress. But, there are guys in our platoon who are dumber than I even expected a person could be. This basic is the nursery school of the Army. Then, we had an hour of drill. That part I usually like; don't know why, probably because of the great amount of rhythm in it. Can you believe that there are guys in our platoon who have to hold a piece of gravel or such-like in their left hand so they can tell where "left" is? Well, there actually are some. 

In the afternoon, after seeing your folks off and sipping a cup of coffee with Philip, I went to the dentist. I was lucky in getting a doctor who apparently knew his business very well; today he filled two cavities, and Saturday I have to go back for some more treatment. I got out of the clinic by three thirty, but somehow or other, it was close to five when I got back to my company. Naturally, that got me out of calisthenics. Too bad, ain't it? 

When are our wedding pictures going to be ready? Do you think it would do any good if you wrote to Wolff about it? I am terribly anxious to see them. Also, Rog ought to have his pictures ready by now. Did we ever pay him for them? 

It's getting late and I need some sleep, haven't had much lately. So long, honey, and write me a real long letter. 

Lots of love,

Tom.

P.S. Please return Winton's letter.

Opa got some time with the in-laws, a novel thing that he seems laissez-faire about despite the fact that not too long ago they didn't attend the wedding. Something must have eased out. I'm wondering if it was just the sheer fact that it was a done deal, combined with (what I hope were) good reports from Phillip (Grandmother's brother who just happened to be stationed at the same camp). Seriously, that's some good luck for Opa. Opa seems to be confident and the in-laws seem to be cordial, so, that's nice.

As for the rest of the letter, my husband Jason said to me: "hey, you didn't inherit your grandfather's teeth genes." I am notorious for bragging about my good teeth. I'm not even kidding, but when you have as many genetic mishaps as I do- you take pride in the one that went right. NO cavities, ever. In Opa's defense, I told Jason that he did grow up in post WW1 Germany when bread lines and rations were a thing. I doubt he got a great start for his teeth. Now that he's in the Army, he's getting ALLLLL the dental. The same thing happened to Jason when he decided to skip out on dental care after college, through his two years of teaching and through three years of seminary. Our first year of marriage, and his first year in a while of dental health care coverage, he had a LOT of dental procedures. It still cost a bunch despite this "coverage."

Opa is being a little snooty in this letter. But I gotta be honest, this isn't a shock to me, he was always a little bit of an intellectual snob. Education was always a big deal for him, his family, and consequently mine. My Grandmother was the same, although maybe more tactful about it when she encountered folks who weren't as "smart" as she was. Think about it though, she was a female born in the 1920s, currently working on a master's degree. From Kansas. She was not typical. I think Opa had his moments when he was humbled by his own intellectual shortcomings, but overall he was used to being one of the smarter people in the room. 

Writing this I actually just thought about the fact that he had Alzheimer's at the end of his life. Opa's posture and pride in being an intellectual made all of us worry about how much he would struggle and get frustrated when his own mind betrayed him. By some miracle, he was quite calm and accepting of his condition, and worked to do what he could and let go of what he couldn't. We all said he became almost child-like and sweet, still him, but a child-like version of him. When I read his earlier letters, full of wonder and philosophical expositions, I see some of that same child-like quality.

Opa talks a little gossipy about their friend Winton and his new serious relationship. At first I thought he was being a bit much, but doesn't that come with the marriage territory? Who else will you talk shit about your best friends with? I'll forgive Opa because I'm pretty sure he didn't think anyone but Grandmother would see this letter, and I don't know Winton, maybe he was a little hot-headed. 

I still marvel at how little Grandmother and Opa saw each other in the beginning of their marriage. I think the reason they survived at all is that they were both working on something, they both had goals, and they supported each other in those goals. It was a very egalitarian marriage!

October 16, 1944: Cheap Gifts and In-Laws

 

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, October 16, 1944.

Transcription:

October 16, 1944

Dearest,

This is the day. Just one month ago did it happen, and in some respects it seems as though a decade had passed since our wedding day. Be it to the fact that I had been looking forward to our marriage for such a long time, or be it because we practically had been married long before that time, mentally, spiritually, and almost physically, the state of being married seems to be a perfectly natural one as though I had been used to it for a long, long time.

In other respects, of course, the time which we actually lived together was cruelly brief, and it will be quite a long time before we can make up for it. Let's always keep in mind that we are so much more fortunate than those millions of people who are separated by thousands of miles of ocean water or even by death.  Naturally, the fact that there are so many who face much worse than we should not improve our lot, but it makes us feel ashamed when we have pity for ourselves.

Today, we started our basic. Mostly lectures in the forenoon; about uniforms, military courtesy, first aid, and the Articles of War. In the afternoon, we had extended drill and calesthenics. My muscles have become awfully stiff, and I am glad to have this chance to get limbered up a little. Here is one thing you will like: they started today feeding us vitamin tablets. Tonight, after retreat, we were shown two training films: one on war bonds, and the other on the negro soldiers. There were fairly good pictures, but naturally I was anxious to get away in order to see your folks. I am at the Service Club now, they haven't come yet, might get here any time now, though.

Honey, the locket I am sending you is a very cheap one, but the only one I could find that was in my price range. I don't know what it is made of, but if it starts corroding, use nail polish on it. I'll try to get a better one soon.

Won't it be a surprise if you came with your folks tonight? I know, though, that this is impossible.

Good night, darling; I'll talk to your folks tonight.

Tom.

Opa celebrates his one month anniversary (I know, not really a thing) with... his in-laws. They were not at the wedding, and I'm not even sure if they are all-in on Grandmother's choice to marry. I think Grandmother is in grad-school and that is why she can't also visit, but I was sad with Opa that she won't be there. 

When Opa wrote that basic started today, my first reaction was STARTED?! But I suppose he's just been living on base until his class of recruits is up for basic training. I don't really understand it, but as a military brat I do know one thing: military timing is... different. 

I watched part of the military films Opa referred to- and they are surprisingly not awful. I get the same feeling after watching or reading a lot of these PSA type films and articles: why haven't we made more progress by now? This is a deeper question that I'll explore in a different context, but I wanted to at least raise the question here.

I also giggled a little at the cheap locket that needs nail polish to shine it. Bless it. Opa was always giving Grandmother gifts, some perhaps a little nicer than others!

October 15, 1944: Tomorrow our Basic Starts

 

Postcard from Opa to Grandmother, October 15: 1944.

Transcription:

October 15, 1944

Dearest,

Just a brief note so you hear from me. Your call from Topeka just got through; I wished you could come up with your folks. Phil was as excited as I never saw him before.

This has been a busy day: K.P. since five in the morning. Tomorrow, our basic starts.

Love,

Tom.

This was a short note, sweet that he keeps writing every day. My takeaway: tomorrow basic starts. What?! What have they been doing this whole time? Is he just now going into basic training?? I'm so confused.

October 14, 1944: POWs in Missouri

 

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, October 14, 1944

Transcription:

October 14, 1944

Darling,

This has been a long day, and I actually did do a little work. In the morning, we hauled some truck loads of gravel to the infiltration range. I had my hands bandaged in gloves and that way could work fairly well. In the afternoon, after some fooling around, I swang a paint brush. There were several prisoners of war working close to me, all Germans. It was a great temptation for me to speak to them. Although there is no law against it, I believe it would be an unwise thing to do so. I had fun listening to them, especially since they did not know that I understood what they said. When they started to sing some of the old familiar German songs, I must admit that a lump came into my throat.

Tonight,at 7pm, our company commander gave us a little orientation lecture. He is a young guy, about my age, lieutenant, with a Polish name: Tetkowski. Apparently, a swell guy. His talk was as unmilitary as he could possibly make it, and it showed that he was interested in the work for its own sake. I think I am going to like him. The only thing I didn't like was the fact that the lecture took till nine o'clock, which took away the best part of Saturday evening.

Tomorrow, Sunday, I'll have K.P. Apparently they think I need some practice in that kind of work. Well, someone has got to do it.

In the mail today, together with the enclosed letter from my friend in California, was one application blank (preliminary) for naturalization, which I received as an answer from the Kansas City Immigration Service. This deal is to be a long, drawn-out procedure, but I think there won't be much trouble.

Glad you went to the doctor. You should have expected that the doctor wouldn't have the diaphragm on stock; are you embarrassed to go to a drugstore for it?

I am tired and have to get up early for K.P. tomorrow, so I think I quit now. Tomorrow's letter may be rather brief too, for a similar reason.

Lots of love,

Tom.

P.S. Please return Gerd's letter.

This letter has a lot of nice little insights into Opa's life and the cultural milieu of the day. Grandmother is potentially embarrassed to buy birth control at the drugstore, and sadly I think we're still a little embarrassed about sex and birth control as a societal norm. It have a lot of opinions about this, but it isn't the point of this letter (or even my point about this letter), so I'l move on.

I am surprised that the naturalization process for Opa (and I suspect anyone) who has literally joined the United States military, is still so long and drawn-out. Opa knows it's worth it in the end, after all, this is the main reason why he joined. 

Opa doesn't talk much about his family or friends in Germany. My guess is that's because there is nothing new to talk about: no news is coming or going from the war-zone civilians in Europe. I suspect Opa easily avoids this topic as a method of self-preservation. I do this. If I know I can't do anything to help or change something, I cope by putting the whole situation in what I like to call a "black cloud." It's basically compartmentalizing, but I like to imagine a black-hole in space that has its opening just above my head in a dark cloud, perfect for when I need to throw something in and forget about it. 

I don't think Opa has forgotten his family and friends, absolutely not. In fact, his friend in California and Gerd (who I don't know but have a guess) are likely both Germany-related contacts. His whole endeavor to get citizenship is not only for his own survival, but so that he can sponsor his mother when everything is over. I don't think he has allowed himself the chance to entertain that she might not be able to come to the US. He faces what is in front of him, making choices based on the best case scenario and planning for the worst.

The part that intrigued me the most about this letter was the German POWs. I didn't realize that there were POWs on American soil. I suppose I should have known that, but like so many other things I have been ignorant about, I just never thought about it. I did some light searching and found this documentary about the POWs. 

Opa's response to them seems pretty natural: tempted to talk to them but deciding against it in the end. When he said that he had a lump in his throat when hearing the old folk songs of Germany, I got a little lump in mine. Nazis or not, Germany was still his home. The language, the stories, the songs, all of that was the backdrop of a childhood which was, for at least ten or so years, a good one. It's hard to compartmentalize when the black hole spits out a reminder of what you've tossed. Haven't you had that moment? When you catch the scent of something, the melody of a special song, even a familiar phrase or word? It catches you by surprise, evoking a response before you had a chance to shove it back into the abyss. 

I keep thinking about how war dehumanizes. We look back and think in terms of good vs evil, axis and allies, etc. In this weird conjunction of military troops and POWs from enemy territory, what is actually present is a group of humans, each with their own stories, songs, and black holes of memories. 

Opa is standing on the bridge between the two, wistful but moving on.

October 13, 1944: Rare Hosiery

 

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, October 13, 1944.

Transcription:

October 13, 1944

Darling,

This is Friday the thirteenth; ought to be a lucky day and sure enough, I got a nice, long letter from you. Who is Mrs. Stone? The family sounds interesting.

I guess you did the right thing by buying the silver now; how large are the monthly payments?

It's terrible how this war piles tragedy upon tragedy, like the case of that boy's stepfather. You are right, honey, we must be thankful that nothing has come to us yet except temporary separation. Also, we will have a chance to be together every once in a while, and I can hardly wait for the first time.

Right now, you are probably on the way to the doctor's, and I hope he behaves himself and won't hurt you.

Every night, especially now where I see Phil and Johnny who know you and with whom I can talk about you, I am tremendously tempted to call you. However, it does cost just a little too much money.

Thanks for forwarding the letters. The name of my friend in New York is Hanna Liebes, her address, 63 Riverside Drive, New York 24, NY. She would be very pleased if you would write her, but wait a while; she might send a present.

By the way, I am not quite as bad as you think I am. I did write to the Shelley's, even though it was just a few days go; also my soul was full of repentance for that delay.

This morning, I managed to keep from doing any work till almost ten o'clock; at that time, we were called out with cartridge belt, helmet liner, and leggins, and had a good hour and a half of drill. The afternoon has just begun; I doubt if I will again be successful in avoiding work. (It's not that I don't like to work; it's only the fact that the work they give us to do is so ghastly nonessential and designed for no other purpose but to keep us occupied.) I think I can utilize this time of waiting to much greater advantage by hunting up some quiet corner and reading a good book. Right now, I am reading a textbook on Frequency Modulation. This is a field in radio which has a great future.

Well, it didn't work. Ten minutes ago, some corporal came in and called us out. Right now, we are waiting for a truck to pick us up, which may or may not come.

Well, the truck came, and I did the first piece of real work since I have been in Camp Crowder. We went out to the anti-aircraft rifle range, fixing up targets etc. The sergeant asked if any of us could install a loudspeaker. Well, I violated one of the seven of my army principles, and volunteered. it was a huge public-address system loudspeaker, to be installed on top of a 40 - feet pole. They gave me a safety belt, a rope, and pole-climbing spurs, and I climbed my first pole. Going up wasn't so bad. Up there, I did my work, which took me about half an hour, then took off my safety belt, and climbed down. When I was about 10 feet above the ground, my spur let go and I slipped. I made the mistake of holding on to the pole with my hands, so when I landed on the ground, my hands looked like a mess. Bloody, and more than a dozen splinters in them, some of them half an inch long. It didn't hurt very much, though. I pulled out the big ones myself, wrapped a handkerchief around my hand, and kept working, so you see it wasn't so bad. When I got back in, I did go to the doctor, though, for the hand started hurting again. He pulled out splinters for almost an hour, cussing all the time, for he wanted to go home. My hands are okay now, just look like a mess.

Camp Crowder has a newspaper which in every respect conforms to the common dirty journalism practices. The P.X. is starting a Christmas bazaar today. In the paper it was announced that they had a limited number of pairs of genuine silk and nylon hosiery for sale. The bazaar was to open tonight at 7:00pm. I got there at 6:15, was one of the first, and waited till 7:30, when they finally opened. I didn't know your size, but I think I would have guessed fairly correctly. Well, they had neither nylon nor silk hosiery; the whole thing was just a newspaper gag to get people to go to the bazaar. I can't remember a time when I was quite so mad.

Saw Phil tonight again; he told me some of his experiences as M.P. Many of them rather exciting, but I know I wouldn't want the job. Phil must have been doing an excellent job, though, for his idea was to help the boys rather than to get them into trouble.

Today is G.I. day like every Friday, which means that we have to scrub the barracks. However, due to my bruised hands, I got out of that. You see, even an accident has some good results.

I think I shall keep up on my studies a little. If you should see in one of K.U.'s bookstores an inexpensive pocket slide rule, I wished you would get it for me. Don't spend more than a dollar or at the utmost two dollars for it. Or $1.50 you should get a fairly good one. Be sure it is not made of cardboard, though, and don't waste much time looking for it.

I haven't found either field jacket or cap yet and don't expect to find them. From another soldier, I got a second-hand cap which almost fits me. It is not very good looking, but enough to pass inspection.

Good night, my dear, I'll see you in my dreams.

Tom.

Opa writes to Grandmother, listing the ins and outs of another day in the life of a soldier with no real assignment. His ability to get to know Grandmother's brother Phillip is a nice happenstance. 

There is something constant about the way humans live, work, and play. Here, in 1944 during a war and tragedies all around, there is a small base with men who go to shows, drink beer, steal jackets, have minor accidents, and line up for the hot commodities of the day... in this case rare hosiery. That made me laugh.

Time continues on and despite the cause and effect of the world's happenings, we still do life about the same as we always have. I'm not sure what to make of that other than to appreciate and enjoy the time I have and not get too fatalistic about the current causes and effects that surround me. 

October 12, 1944: Wit, Humor, and a little bitterness

 

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, October 12, 1944.

Transcription:

October 12, 1944

Dearest Crystal Ball,

This is my first anniversary: one week at Camp Crowder. I guess Johnny and I are going to celebrate it somehow or other. There is a variety show here in the Service Club, but neither of us is sufficiently interested in legs to waste an evening looking at them, so we will probably end up by going to a movie.

Remember that good-looking officer's field jacket I had? Last night, while Philip and I were at the Service Club, I hung it up out on the clothes rack, and it was stolen, together with my cap. There is a slight possibility that someone took it by mistake and will return it, but I doubt it. If I don't get it back by the time of our next clothes check, I'll have to pay for a new one, or approximately ten bucks. Even then I won't get one which looks as nice as mine did. It made me sick. I'll have to buy a cap tonight, for I am not supposed to go outside without cap.

This afternoon, I caught up on one badly needed sleep. I just took a chance on it, hit my bunk at 1pm and slept till five; no one objected. At night I saw Johnny and Phil again. Phil reminds me an awful lot of my uncle; a man with lots of experience behind him, who still has kept some of his wit and sense of humor, but who has become more serious and even a little bitter by the series of unhappy events which life so often forces upon this type of people. Yet, Phil jokes a lot and seems to be well-known and popular around this place.

My eyes are still bothering me a little, but by tomorrow they should be completely all right. By the way, I don't think I would like your extended correspondence with Johnny too well. If you want to check up on me, you will just have too come here yourself. You could come to visit me every day if you want to, but I think it would be better if we saved that money for the time I get my weekend pass, don't you? If you have a chance, though, to come here in someone's car, by all means do so!

It was nice to get your long letter today; I wished I had taken this afternoon to writing to you instead of sleeping, but I didn't. I'll try to write more this weekend.

Love,

Tom.

Opa is most likely referring to his Uncle Kurt in this letter. Kurt is Ella's younger brother, the baby in that family. I'm guessing Philip had the same charm and laissez faire sense about life. Kurt was a bit of a ladies man, and I don't know if Philip was similar in that way or not. 

Either way, Kurt had indeed suffered a lot of hardship by this time in his life. In 1944 (if I've got my dates right), he had just escaped a concentration camp and was working on a British ship as a cook. He had fathered two children in 1939 (with two different women) and sometime in the mid 1930s, his wife had disappeared to Russia with her family, never to be heard from again. She didn't leave him so much as she was forced to join her family, and they had to sever communication to protect him. It is assumed that they died in the gulags.

I'm not sure exactly what Philip's hardships were, or how exactly he reminded Opa of Kurt, but it sounds like he still had a charm and wit about him that endeared Opa to him.

I want to say I can't believe Opa's jacket was stolen, but if it looked good and the penalty for not having an item of clothing was at least $10, I can see a number of reasons why it would have been stolen. We have a sort of fairy-tale ideal of soldiers, but we forget that they are a normal bunch of humans who for many more reasons that just valor, decided to join the military. Like any group of people: they're not going to be perfect, no matter how you dress them.

Opa and Grandmother have been married almost a month, and they've barely seen each other. Opa is hoping for a weekend pass soon.

October 11, 1944: Blurr

Letters from Opa and Philip to Grandmother, October 11, 1944.

Transcription:

October 11, 1944

Dearest,

This letter is apt to start in a peculiar setup. I am at the hospital for an eye check; they gave me some eye drops, and these drops are making everything appear extremely blurr. Right now, I can see only the lines I am writing; the words are very indistinct. They say it is going to take several hours before this effect ceases.

Probably, I am to get one or two pairs of S.I. glasses. I won't wear them much, though, for I don't want to look any more like a moron than I do already. Right now, I am waiting for the examination; thought I'd utilize the time.

Last night, after I mailed your letter, Johnny came and we went to see the show "San Diego, I love you." Awfully cute and funny; see it if you have a chance.

Slept through reveille this morning, but did get up for breakfast. (Missing breakfast would be too great a sacrifice even for Morpheus.

A while ago, we were issued a whole slug of stuff, including a bayonet. Yesterday, this bayonet was taken away from us, indicating that we are not going to have any bayonet practice. You can't imagine how glad I am for that, for in my estimation, bayonets are slaughtering instruments of more cruelty than any others. I'm getting a headache, so I had better quit and finish this when my eyes are normal again.

Your letter came a few hours ago, and with it those of Spohns and Philip. I can't do any work today on account of my eyes (good excuse, anyhow) so I went over to the prison office (there ain't no z I prison) to look up Philip. He is a swell guy, much nicer than I had expected from your description. We had a good talk together, and now I am at the Service Club. Philip will come up here after work, and we will have supper together. It is too bad you can't be here too; better buy some ice cubes and put them on your ears, for they will need cooling off.

I don't have your letter here to answer it but I didn't think there was anything in it which was intended as a question. Don't worry about my swearing, since there is nothing to worry about. I'll write to the Spohns one of these days; not only for the wedding gift either, even though this decidedly plays in as a mighty good reason.

Philip may be going home around the 19th. I hope he stops in Lawrence, which he probably will. Too bad I can't go with him. On my first weekend pass, however, we might go together. By the way, he is a corporal now. 

Well, my eyes start hurting again. The next time they dope me like this, I'll quit my job. I decided anyhow to send a petition to the colonel which would state that Company A of the 27th Battalion be granted an honorable discharge, with $10,000 mustering-out pay, and a monthly pension of $500 for life. A general survey has revealed that most numbers of my company would be in agreement. I, however want to wait till after I get my citizenship, while the rest of them do not see any need for that. I am sure the colonel will have no objections, aren't you?

Write me a long letter, darling, and be as sweet in my dreams as you are in reality.

Lovingly,

Tom.

(over)

Dear Marjorie,

Was surprised and happy this afternoon to have Tom come walking in the office and introduce himself. We have spent a very pleasant afternoon and evening visiting, eating and playing ping pong, which by the way is a new sport to me and it's needless to say who won the games. Tom seems like a very nice fellow and I find him very interesting and feel sure we will be the best of friends. I'm awfully glad he landed here. I hope some time you can come down and see him soon so that I can see you too. Now that he is here I still don't expect to hear from you often as I will be seeing Tom every once in a while.

Best of Luck and with Love,

Your Brother

Philip

I started laughing when I realized Opa was writing this with dilated eyes. You can tell by his handwriting and some of his small errors. Opa needed glasses for as long as I knew him, so perhaps this was the beginning of that truth being known. He seems to think glasses won't look good on him, but he quickly adjusted. I thought he looked very dignified with glasses on. 

Opa's mention of his relief in skipping the bayonet and its cruelty was an interesting aside. It reminds me of his pacifist origins, still in there even in the middle of army life. 

Grandmother's brother, Philip, was in the army, and at the same base as Opa now. Opa introduced himself and they seemed to get along well. Philip was much older than Grandmother, 17 years older. For Grandmother, he was almost like an uncle and not a brother she knew very well. He was the oldest in her family of six children (two of whom died as young children). Grandmother was the youngest and only girl. That helps explain Philip's letter to her: sort of formal and paternal. It is sort of a "small world" thing that Opa and Philip should be meeting on base like that. 

I'm reminded of the quick and small wedding Grandmother and Opa had, hardly any of Grandmother's family was there, including Philip. I can't imagine meeting my sister's spouse for the first time a month after they were married! 

Also, I realized that Opa still hasn't gotten his citizenship, his main reason for joining the army and hanging in there when things are bizarrely inefficient. I'm waiting for that big day!