Things are quiet and actually restful....

Rest Camp in the Pacific
March 3rd, 1944

Dear girls,

In my last, which went free by slow freight, I explained that we were only allowed to send one air mail letter a week, but since I have found out that I’m the one that has to enforce the regulation – well, here we go.

Things are quiet and actually restful. We had our first liberty a few days ago, and though the town is small and quiet, it felt wonderful to get away for a few hours, and do just exactly what you want to do. Gee, a woman. The first woman white or black in almost two months. That’s just about as close as you can get to them around here, too – just see them.

There have been many changes made in our outfit – most of them caused, not by casualties, but by Col. Hart’s belief that we have been too long in our present jobs, and need a change – new faces. Also the fact that Headquarters Washington has changed the organizational setup of a company. What used to be a separate heavy weapons company – heavy machine guns – is now a part of our rifle company – to that new platoon is added my section (3 squads) of light machine guns. And my mortar section has been slightly increased – my command now consists of the mortars, and Company Headquarters personnel. Which suits me fine. Our Battalion Commander wanted to make me T.Q.M. – a job peculiar to the Marine Corps, concerned with Combat loading and unloading of ships. I would have had charge of all the supplies for the Battalion. A responsible job and all that, and someone has to do it, but I didn’t want it. It meant leaving my men, and the Company, and I like working with the mortars – and it’s too far behind the lines. So the Captain and I screamed like wild Indians, and I stayed. But most of the rest were juggled, and they were all very unhappy about it. I think it’s a Hell of a theory myself.

Today is March the fourth, and my thoughts are with you, Mother. So much has happened since – to all three of us – but somehow that relationship which he founded has not changed, but only grown in strength – your love for him – and from it our feeling of family, of unity and love.

If he were living – I’ve said that a thousand times – he’d be in this with me, and we’d be so proud of each other.

All my love,
Phil