October 11, 1941, 84th Combat Engineer Battalion, Fort Belvoir, Virginia. (Maneuvers, North Carolina, South Carolina)

sketch

Our Company C, one of four comprising the 84th Combat Engineer Battalion, is now attached to the Sixth Army Corps in the Maneuver area, a rather desolate section of North Carolina. Each Company will be broken down further to squads of men, six to ten, who will be assigned to regiments or divisions during the maneuvers. This is a training phase now in preparation for dealing with actual combat conditions. The idea behind the program, we are informed, will be tested in the forthcoming war games, both in North and South Carolina, where the Blue Army (the Sixth Corps Army) goes up against the Red Army (First Army Corps). We are scheduled to be in the field for three weeks, getting into different positions, testing the ability to move, undergo blackout, attack, retreat, and defend against low-level air assault. My health, surprisingly, despite the variety of bad weather we have been subjected to, has been relatively good, although the worst may still be ahead of us. I try with all my strength to maintain dry clothing, but its difficult with the constant downpours which plague this area, flooding small streams, filling the gullies beside the dirt roads, and making everything you do extremely laborious. I'm dirty, soaked to the skin half the time, covered with insect bites, and bruised and exhausted from the hard work of building wooden bridges, corduroying the areas where that is needed (laying logs across muddy surfaces), testing the use of barbed wire and bangalore torpedoes (a pipe-bomb designed to remove barbed-wire), and many other nasty little tasks usually undertaken by the Engineer Corps. I had understood we were primarily camouflage engineers, but I guess in a situation as bad as this, they figure we can be more useful doing something else. One thing I'll never get accustomed to is eating mess (supper) at night under strict blackout, no lights at all, a nightmarish experience. The meal is eaten, but the nature of it is a mystery unless, by chance, you are told beforehand. It goes down, though, the appetite prevails, taking over, and those who can't manage food simply go without, which is not a good idea when you are trying to survive in conditions like this.

For all of us, the best part of mess is the coffee, steaming and delicious, a real pleasure, believe me, always available, its fragrance permeating the bivouac area. Private Higgins, a nice guy from Brooklyn, New York, and I, have become friends, sharing thoughts, and playing chess at night, even under blackout, using that small chessboard you sent just before we left for maneuvers. We manage this by the light of a small candle, buttoning up the entrance to the pup-tent, so that no light can be seen from the outside. It is the only civilized thing going on around here, we both agreed, bizarre, you might say, under these circumstances. I'll be thankful when this operation is concluded--we all share that opinion--mainly because we are so miserable. The experience, obviously, is intended to toughen you for the real combat, which none of us like to think about, which awaits us, eventually, in the future. If there is a direct comparison involved between this and the real thing, I am fearful that I might not measure up to the demands made on me physically, and perhaps, even more critically, the effect on me mentally....

My health, as I indicated, is all right, but I forgot to add that almost everyone else in the unit is is sick, in one way or another, some seriously. There's a lot of dysentery among the men, a factor that complicates everyday duties in the field, to say the least, and they have been sent back to the field hospital for treatment. If I have a choice, which I do not, I'll take a cold every time over dysentery, a condition that knocks you out completely. DYSENTARY MAKES YOU WISH YOU WERE DEAD; you really don't care about anything, no matter what it is. Some of the soldiers in the bivouac here, can hardly put one foot in front of the other, and struggle with the problem only because the prospect of WHAT THEY MIGHT DO IN THE FIELD HOSPITAL IS TOO AWESOME TO CONTEMPLATE. There is no laundry done in the maneuver area, no toilet facilities, no washing, and you are exposed to the worst environment in every respect. I try to keep my mess-kit clean, as well as other equipment, but its very difficult, under these conditions, as you might expect. And further, as most of the other men here would agree, there is far less trust than usual in the Company cooks, who are not in the kitchen because they have admirable characters. Higgins, who is a keen observer of matters like this, told me that: " If this army is to travel on its stomach, we are not going anywhere!' Being subject to this misery, I anticipate the coming Christmas season with more anticipation than usual, and pray that these war games will be completed by the twentieth of December, so you and I can make preparations for the jolly season. I can't tell you how much I count on this--only GOD knows what the future holds--and I am determined to enjoy myelf whenever I can. Rumors are that following the holidays, when most soldiers are issued furloughs, we will be on our way to a port of embarkation, Boston, or New York, and will ship out to some trouble spot. There is not much speculation here, which is strange when you think about it, but it has to be either east or west I would imagine, because these are the areas under aggression. Well, this is pure guesswork; there is a chance, very limited, I think, that we'd remain in the States, which would be nice because I'd get to see you once in a while. If we declare war it would be a different ball game, actual confrontations would take place, and the chances are that there would be less and less opportunities to get home. No one in their right mind can believe we will manage to stay out of this war, the cards are being played out, and right now we are in it, I feel, whether we like it or not. Most of the reporters in the Times Review of the News, agree with this assessment, noting that the country, step by step, is moving toward an outright declaration, which might come in a hurry, if one of our ships is sunk, or the Germans and Japanese attack us somewhere. No doubt we are taking serious steps with Lend-Lease, open assistance to the French and English, all leading to the conclusion that President Roosevelt is preparing the American people to enter the conflict. Let's not underestimate what this means to us, our lives togther, everything we have THOUGHT about during the time I have been in the army. I try to put these dire thoughts out of my mind, but find it impossible, especially here in desolate North Carolina, which remind me of the worst possible scenario. I would imagine everybody back home tries to avoid the reality, but I'll wager there are not too many who cannot see what all these preliminaries are leading to. Anyhow, if all goes well here in North Carolina, I should see you on or about December 20, which would make me a happy man. Right now, as I sit inside the pup-tent in a pine forest, the drizzle comes down steadily, my pen refuses to work on the damp paper, Healy lies snoring softly to one side, and beyond the immediate bivouac area, surrounded by a clutter of trucks, I can see that the Sunday mess is in action, steam from the cooking floats among the trees, soft sounds of talk can be heard around the area, and somewhere, its hard to locate it, I can hear the sounds of a harmonica playing country music ....