"An absolute breach of something or other" - March 24, 1943
Sgt. L. Winsauer
Div. Hq. Co., APO 253
Indiantown Gap, Pa.
Mr. & Mrs. H. Winsauer
Kohler, Wisconsin
Wednesday nite
Dear Mom, Dad, Betty and Pete,
Hello again, way up there where the snow is probably still two feet deep. Spring has set in with a vengeance down here and the last few days have really been beautiful. Warm and sunny and more like summer than merely early spring. The old-timers here however, just shake their heads and say “Just wait, this weather is as false as a plugged nickel, in two days you’ll be wearing woolens and overcoats”.
I haven’t had any time whatsoever though, to get out and enjoy even these few days. Last week we were busy every minute of the day and way into the night from Monday through Saturday—and I do mean BUSY. ‘Sort of rearranged and reorganized the whole Dispensary, from the records to the last little Cathartic pill. Before it would probably take a half hour to dig around in a dozen boxes to find a certain drug, while now everything is indexed and labeled in its own spot where it can be picked up in a matter of minutes. The job wouldn’t have been so bad if we could have kept at it, but we'd have to stop for sick-call every day, and go on our scheduled hikes, and give shots, and run our regular sanitary inspections, etc., etc. However, now that it's all finished, I'm glad we got right after it, for it makes things easier for everyone in the detachment and the captain was really pleased.
I've got my S/Sgt's stripes on now, and feel pretty proud of them, though to admit that to any one here would be an absolute breach of something or other.
'Haven't heard anything definite as yet, as to when I'll be going to Officer's Training, but have passed my physical exam and now must just wait for a quota to come in. It'll probably be sometime next month. Before I go I'll be able to get home for three or four days (I HOPE) and I'm looking forward to that as much as to going to school.
I qualified for both the Chemical Warfare and the Medical Administrative Corps schools. The Chemical Warfare is over in Maryland and the Medical is down in Texas. 'Haven't decided which one I'll go to as yet, but it will probably be the one that sends in a quota first. I'll go to school for three months and, if I pass, will graduate as a second lieutenant. Everyone says the schools are pretty rugged--lots of drill, lots of studying, rough inspections and plenty of really long hikes. It doesn't scare me too much though , because after the swamps of Louisiana, and the mud of Virginia and te sand and heat of the desert, nothing can be so awfully bad.
Jean and I have decided to be married when I finish school. I hope neither you or her parents will feel that we are making a mistake by not waiting. I know you advised us to wait when I was home on my last furlough and I's[ect you feel the same way now. But we've talked it over and talked it over, and though we know there are half-a-hundred reasons (and good ones) against it, we've decided we can lick every one of them, and half-a hundred more. I value your judgement above anyone else's and know any advice you'd give me would, from your point of view, be only for my own good. But this time will you put yourselves in our places, will you stop right here, and think back to that time, a score or so fo years ago, when you, Mom, and you, Dad, decided that you were going to be married. Do you recall the time? And the place? Could anyone have changed your minds at that time or any time thereafter? I'll bet a million they couldn't. Well I love Jean and want to marry her now, more than anything in the world and I'm sure she feels the same way. If we only have a week together and I get sent across, O.K., we've had our week; if it's tough sledding, O.K it's touch--but heck, isn't that all part of the game? After the war's over I'm going back to school and get that old M.D., and perhaps that won't be a picnic, but Jean knows it and I know it--and we both say "So what".
So, we're going to be married.
It's awfully late and I've scheduled a road-march for tomorrow so I'm going to say good-night for now, and thanks a million for the Camels,
All my love,
[unsigned]