Dear Robert[1]:
I guess its time that I got around
to writing to you again—though it does seem a little futile since there is so
little happening that could be considered new worthy. I can’t even relay any
information of the family since they haven’t written for a long time. Marian[2]
did come through with a letter recently though and told of Waltshaving[3]
(sic) to hop a plane for Washington. It also seems that he is scheduled to make
a trip to California sometime in April[4].
Over the week-end of the 6th
of April, I’m supposed to go to Berkely (sic) to attend some meetings too I rather hope the (sic) Walt is out west by
that time so that I can see him too. I think that I’ll be able to get home for
a few days too. I’ll write after I get back again.
Monday five of us went in to
Portland for the second concert that we’ve been able to go to. We heard the
duo-pianists, Luboshutz and Nemenoff. They gave a fair program but nothing
exceptional. At times Luboshutz banged so hard that he nearly drowned out his
wife. On the way to the concert, we passed a cigarette line that was nearly a
block long. Fortunately, out here we don’t have to worry too much about getting
cigarettes[5].
Remember Del Vaniman? Well two
weeks ago he and the planer in the wood shop got into tangle and he came out of
it with the tip of his finger nearly cut off. We took him into the doctor in
town and she sewed it together again and he’s doing fine now. The machine cut
through the bone, which had to be taken out, and now he’ll have finger that a little
shorter than the rest. It was the first accident of our men on that machine but
I understand there have been four others before our time and they didn’t fair
(sic) as well as Del[6].
Except for about two days out of
the last three weeks, we’ve had varying degrees of rainfall. After three years
in Oregon, I still haven’t developed webbed feet. A little California sunshine
would be grand about now but I guess we’ll have to wait a couple of months yet.
Your trip over[7]
sounded like a lazy man’s life—reading and bridge[8]
etc. Now I imagine life is somewhat different though the Ballet Corps[9]
etc might indicate otherwise. What’s the number left to go now?
Well its getting on towards the
time to get lunch for the mob so I’ll be cutting it short. Write when the
spirit moves you and I hope it moves you
[1]
Addressed to: Lt. R. B. Richert
02071698; 99th Bm Gr., 346 Bm Sq.; APO 520; c/o P.M. New York, N. Y.
[2]
Wife of Walter Richert.
[3]
Walt is the brother of Julius and Robert.
[4]
Walter worked in the Quartermaster corps and traveled domestically throughout
the war.
[5]
Unsure if this is apathy is due to smaller smoking population because of camps
remote location or camp received adequate supply.
[6]
It is easy to imagine a planer taking more than a fingertip from a person.
[7]
The Atlantic crossing of Robert to combat zone in Italy.
[8]
Robert would maintain a lifetime association with bridge becoming a Life Master
in competitive play.
[9]
Probably a reference to a touring USO show.
[10]
Return address: Julius Richert; Zig Zag, Oregon; dated March 28, 1945.
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