Monday Afternoon
5 June 1944
Dear Mom, Pop, and Don:
Your mail has really been coming into me fast lately—the last letter that I received was the one with the picture of you, Dad, and Don—I also received the other pictures of the family five days ago. I’ve received all your letters mom—the only thing I haven’t received is the packages—I’m sorry they didn’t get here in time—I’m leaving in a few hours and I don’t know when I will be able to get my packages—but one of these days they will find me.
I was sure glad to hear that everyone at home is well and doing so good—I’m in mighty good health myself—just as tough and mean as ever. I have received so much mail lately that I want to be able to answer every one who wrote me. Its sure swell to get lots of mail—This Joe gets more mail than all of us—But he has so many relatives that write him I don’t see how he keeps up the correspondence.
I read in the papers today that some are sent a message by mistake that the invasion had started and everyone in the States got all excited—well, the message was a few hours early—Right now some of our boats are on the way and in a few hours I will be joining them. The weather is a little bad right now but I hope it calms down before we leave. Mom, don’t worry about me because the good Lord will take care of me. I probably won’t have a chance to write you for a few weeks, but as soon as I get the chance I will sure drop you a line letting you know I’m okay. With all the protection we have I don’t believe we will have too much trouble—Well, I’ll know pretty soon any way—We are all in very good spirits, joking, and are very anxious to get it over—I guess the British people think we are crazy because we do such crazy things—For instance, a lot of our men shaved their heads and all the officers, including yours truly, cut our hair as short as we could—My hair is about three-fourths of an inch long—No one seems nervous or excited—we are very confident that everything will come off okay. Of course I could be mistaken and the Germans may give us a heck of a licking, but I don’t believe they will.
I sure hope your intuition is right about me coming home pretty soon—I will probably stay in France for two or three months—until things are pretty well set up. Then I may be sent back to the states or down to India and in to the Pacific. If I get back home, they will have a tough time getting me away again—I’m not homesick or anything like that but this overseas work isn’t worth the extra ten percent we get. I’m planning on getting home for the Home Coming game at S.M.U. this fall—that will be about the first part of November—about six months from now—So keep your eyes open for me.
I haven’t heard from Pat or Buford in so long—When Pat comes home with his “wings” give him my congratulations and tell him to stick around Dallas because I’ll be home one of these days—He, Buford, and I have got to take up where we left off before this war. Really two swell fellows.
Mom, Pop, don’t worry about me because I’m sure I will come though this thing okay—But if I shouldn’t, I don’t want you taking it too hard—I want you to be proud of me—hold your head in the air and be proud—But I’m coming back—you can count on that.
I better close mom—have a few things I must do before we leave---Give all the relatives and friends my best wishes. Tell Don, that I don’t want to see any fat on him when I get home—I want him to be in tip top shape for football season next fall.
Well that’s all folks—I’ll write you the first chance I get—Love you all and hope to see you soon—
Your son,
Stormy