16 February 1942

Another misdated letter. It says January even after crossing out the month once and rewriting it, but the postmark is February. Plus, on January 16, Walt was in transit and sending postcards.

The song that is driving Walt crazy, “I’m Walking the Floor Over You,” was released in 1941.


Jan 16, 42

Dear [er est [written above and below line]] Ruth:—

Thanks for the stationary; I couldn’t imagine what it was when I saw the package—I sure was glad to get it—I’ll use it just for you.—(— —- —)

I sent a letter to Beach—it was kind of dumb, I thought—but I sent it any way. I had to write something to him.—I recieved the candy—thanks a lot—I guess I told you that yesterday, anyway thanks again.—Y’know—it’s all gone, all-ready—(We) the fellows make everything a community affair and while I was out with the horses this morning—some “cluck” finished it.—I was going to keep it especially for myself, but they beat me to it.—

I was sorry to hear about Aunt Dorothy—too bad, I hope she comes through all right.

Y’know—theres a (yougg) young fellow


who “bunks” along aside of me—He has a girl back in N.Y.S—He and I usually get the “blues” about the same time on Sun.—When there isn’t much to do—and then we set on the sides of the beds and wish we were back home—He wishes he had married his girl before he left—and you know—in a way I do to—I mean, I really do wish we were married, but under the circumstances—I believed it would be more of a “break” for you if we didn’t—So we didn’t. Gee “Honey” when I think of the possibilities a war can bring about—It sometimes make a fellow pretty disgusted—I guess it does you tho.—and you don’t say anything—I guess I shouldn’t.

Gee Honey—guess I got em, I better keep quiet—Unh?—Yep—

I sure would like to see that new hair-do. Bet you look sweet—Just couldn’t help looking better then best—You’re just made that way.


Y’know—I get so tired hearing guys running around singing,—huming—groaning—whistleling—”Walkin’ the Floor Over You”—(If thats the title) that I could wring their necks—”Boots”—I sure wish I could go (listen) some place with you—and listen to some music we like. Don’t you?

Well the lights just went out—So I suppose you know where I’m finishing this—Ha. I can’t hardly hear myself think theres so many guys in here—, shaving, saddlesoaping their boots—and other things related to the “joint.”

I tell you just how much time I had tonight—I eat supper, came up to the barracks and smoked a cig. and talked to Jack about 5 or 10 min, then I saddlesoaped my boots—shined them—Washed and shaved and then it was 8:45—thus I think you can see the reason I’m finishing this letter [in the [inserted below line with arrow]] “privy” Ha.

You know, the longer I write, the worse I write—I guess it’s because of the possition I have to write in. Right now I have the case you sent me, on my knee, and the paper on it.


I told you yesterday I was going to the show—Boy, am I dumb—(Y’a) You remember that show we went to with Gracie Allen in it—The one where she talked so much and always got everything “screwed” up—Well thats what it was, so I left—came down to the barracks and went to bed.

Well I guess I will say “Good Night” and “Sweet Dreams,” and go to bed.

I don’t suppose that means much, as you said you get these letters about noon—So—well anyway,—I love you—more then ever—’till tomorrow:—

I see you


I love (yoy) you


(— —- —)




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