5 November 1944
U.S.S. Prairie
Dearest Family,
I don't know what strange fate has forced me to write this letter by hand, but I guess the reason comes by way of ack neglect to my fountain pen - which has been sulking lately for lack of attention.
Today I received a Christmas card bearing the good news that I am the owner of a gift subscription to "Life" magazine from H.S. Yenne. Where I once had nothing to read but what discarded matter I could dig up, it looks now as though I am being well taken care of. With my "Saturday Evening Post", "Time" and now "Life" magazine, along with such choice material that mother and everyone sends occasionally, I can no longer complain of not having enough to read.
A month or so ago I mentioned that I had good news for you. - It's not exciting news or a very outstanding event which I won't ever forget - but I am now a little better than I was in the Navy - November first made me a Seaman first class with a fifteen dollar a month increase in pay. I still belong to the Seaman branch, but as soon as Radio rates open - or should a vacancy in the band make becoming a musician possible I intend to jump into the 'artificer branch'.
So Ben Mowery got a twenty day leave from Mare Island Radio Station. Boy, could I make use of 20 days if I were in the States now. Ah, I can dream can't I? We just got
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word from Washington recently that getting back home after 18 months sea duty has been more or less done away with due to transportation difficulties and inconvenience of rotating men, particularly needed men with experience. We have our consolations, though. When our fleet sinks a few Jap ships, and each new island is taken, and steady gains in the Philippines all mean that the ultimate day of Victory can't be but closer than the day before. We on tenders and other auxiliary ships - ships that never see real action, are resigned to the fate that is ours, the job that we know means mending, refueling battle scarred ships. Our consolation lies in the tribute we pay to our fighting brethren, those who do the scrapping, and in the fact that we, the unheralded backbone of the navy have successfully outfitted the fleet - such as we did four months ago and sent them on to win probably the world's greatest naval battle.
It was with pride that we watched part of the fleet return, our fleet - actually our little boys. Some ships limped - blistered paint or sluggish wakes, others bore themselves proudly and maybe in our eyes - the eyes of us who watched each returning unit pass by, we dreamed of being part of a combat ship, fighting great battles, take part in these deeds, win campaign bars, ribbons, medals - But as usual our dreaming was cut short by the old bo'sn pipe and "Turn to on slips work - man destroyers lines on portside, turn to"
Maybe the returning heroes lined their rails, watched our rendition of humbleness and gratitude. Inside, though, each man clasped with memories of agony, blood, hell on water, took painful looks at wounded shipmates waiting quietly to be transferred
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to hospital ships standing by - then to look again at the cheering men of us. No doubt their eyes spoke a slightly different story - "oh to be a tender sailor, stay in port, be safe, no hell to go through -
Then, as quickly as it started, it was over. Destroyers, DE's, Subs hugged closely to their mammoth mother Tenders, like chicks under the strong protecting wing - and on the tenders men had again turned to - fixing the fleet - all in the days work.
Yes, we can hail the Conquering Heroes, but don't forget their non-combatant brothers. Conclusively, though - even as sailors, american sailors, americans, the heart's desire of us all is to get home - return to a normal, free mode of living, marry - have families of our own, to hold dear to our hearts the things we now seek. May God help us in our search to find and hold true these simple faiths. It's all we ask.
Lots of Love,
Bud
P.S. Happy Birthday Dad (Nov 16 - it will be unofficial) In case this letter should arrive nearer to the proper date than the other.