Everything here is AOK and OSIAS (Our Sergeant Is A Shit-head). They showed us The Road to Morocco last night until Marantz fell asleep at the projector and the film melted. So what’s the griff on Dorothy Lamour? Is she or isn’t she? Will she or won’t she? Could you nose around a little and find out? I figure if I can’t ask my co-best man, who can I ask? (And if she wants to come to the wedding with me, tell her yes.)
Semper Fi, Mac.
Your buddy,
Stuke
P.S. Charlie decided it was time to learn a different song on his sax (which we could have told him a year ago, huh?). So he picked “Elmer’s Tune”. Know what? The way he plays it, it sounds just like “In the Mood”. And he couldn’t play that either.
P.S.2. Deke Marantz has a bucket full of stories about rooming with Charlie in Springfield, so now we get the other half of it. Deke finally chickened up and admitted that maybe he did piss on the toilet seat a couple of times, but it was better than Charlie who missed the whole toilet and pissed on the floor.
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Dear Charlie,
Me and Hazel went to Tiffany’s on 5th Avenue and bought the wedding bands (we used your ring from Springfield to get the right size). They cost a lot of dough and since you probably can’t swing it on a buck private’s pay, we lent you the money ourselves (I put in 3 smackers). While we were there, we saw Ethel Merman buying a big green necklace and she said to Hazel, “He looks a little young to me, dear.” So Hazel said back, “Who doesn’t?” Then we left.
Rachel’s been letting me buy her milk and eat my lunch with her, but I still couldn’t think of anything to talk to her about. Then I had a great idea. So yesterday in the middle of chocolate pudding I said, “I need your help. My buddy is getting married and I’m one of the best men, but I’ve never done it before and I don’t know what I’m supposed to wear. What about my blue pants and the shirt with stripes?” And she said, “Oh no. You have to wear a suit.” Well smokes—of course you have to wear a suit. Even a blockhead knows that. But she didn’t know that I already knew. So now we talk about different kinds of ties and shoes and etc. One question. How do I get her to change the subject? We’re almost down to underpants.
Joey
P.S. They’re building Dauntless dive bombers at the Navy Yard and they needed helpers but they told me I was too short. So I snuck in under the coffee wagon and wound up on the assembly line until they threw me out. I even put in a rivet.
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Dear Joey,
There’s more than one way to skin 2 cats with a stone. But your on the right track. The best way to get girls going is to ask them something you already have the answer to. Then they will think you are dumb and they are smart, and as long as you don’t tell them the truth you can get away with murder. But be careful. What if she had even lousier taste than you do and told you to wear yellow pants or etc.? Because if you didn’t do it, you would be right back where you started, only worse. See what I mean? It can get dangerous out there. And don’t worry about how to keep them talking, on account of that is the one thing they always do better than we do. It comes with the turf like long hair and girdles. So when you run out of ideas just say the first word that comes into your head—even if it is “uranium”—because they can do at least 20 minutes on just about anything. Oh yeah. They also like it when we use colors to talk about their body parts, such as “your eyes are as brown as” or “your teeth are whiter than” and similar types of crap. But this routine has 6 or 7 rules that go along with it and if you do not watch yourself it can be like walking through a mine field. So don’t try it until we practice and I say your ready.
Last thing. Never try to win a fight with them. They are always right. If they say that Abraham Lincoln was Chinese, they are right. If they say that Babe Ruth played for the Cardinals, they are right too. Get use to saying “Smokes, I didn’t know that.” Otherwise you will never get laid as long as you live.
I need to hit the sack. We have another run tomorrow in the early A.M., I think to Colarado. We finally figured out that they only do such things to us to see who croaks and who doesn’t. They probably have money on it. But there is a word for this now. TUMBS. The Usual Marine Bullshit. The only reason I have time to write this at all is on account of we were suppose to see your buddy Citizen Kane tonight but when they opened the can the middle reel was somehow gone. Rose Bush my ass.
See you next week.
Charlie
P.S. They said that Capt. Colin Kelly sank the Haruna all by himself. What did I tell you? This thing is practically over already.
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WASHINGTON, February 19. President Roosevelt today signed into law Executive Order 9066, authorizing the military to designate strategic areas from which any and all persons may be excluded in order to maintain national security. The move was prompted by the widely felt belief that many of the 110,000 Japanese-Americans living on the West Coast are engaged in sabotage and other fifth column activities designed to weaken the nation’s defenses against Imperial Japan. Although no actual or overt acts of espionage have yet been uncovered, California Attorney General Earl Warren stated, “The absence of any domestic sabotage shows just how devious their plotting really is, and provides almost certain proof of their guilt.”
It is expected that all Americans of Japanese descent now residing in the coastal areas of California. Oregon and Washington will be required to move inland for the duration of the war. At present, there are no plans to evacuate the area forcibly or intern U.S. Japs in detention camps—although Gen. John L. DeWitt has indicated that the only way to protect American citizens against the Yellow Peril is to “lock them up and throw away the
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TOP SECRET
The Green Hornet
C/O Craig Nakamura
Baywater Hotel
1756 Ocean Avenue
Santa Monica, California
Dear Hornet,
Guess what? The Normandie caught fire and burned up while it was still tied to the harbor, and nobody knows how it happened yet but they think it was spies. By the time Charlie and I got there it was lying on its side with steam still coming out of it, and the stacks were so big they almost reached the George Washington Bridge. Smokes, it was keen! The only clue I found was a wooden leg on the dock that had gunpowder on the foot. And you know what that means. Let’s not tell anybody though. We’re in enough hot water with her already.
Me and Stuke had a Bachelor’s Party for Charlie last night at the Metropolitan Club even though they made me go home before the naked girl got there. (Her name was Darla and she called me honey after they found me hiding in the closet.) There was an open bar but they only let me drink Coca Cola and water until I remembered that vodka looks just like water too. (It also makes you puke a lot faster than Slow Gin Fizzes, but I didn’t know that yet.) The only bad part was that Mel Ott brought Leo Durocher with him, who I’ve maybe swapped two words with in my whole life and both of them were fuck you. But Charlie said that if he could stomach FDR for 3 hours then I could handle shooting the breeze with Durocher for crying out loud. So I got you his autograph. It says “To My Best Friend Craig” and I had to spell “friend” for him. I told you he was a dope.
One other thing. Since Rachel started trading her peach cobbler for my peas, I figured it was time for “Love Hate Marriage Friendship.” But look what happens.
FRIENDSHIP
HATE
If I use my middle initial I can get to “Love” and “Marriage” but only if I don’t count the period, and that isn’t allowed. And if I use my whole middle name, then I have to use hers too and it goes right back to “Friendship” and “Hate”. Help me cheat.
Charlie’s getting married tomorrow morning and he’s not supposed to see Hazel before then. So it’s my job to keep him from chickening out tonight. This afternoon he ate a hot dog and threw up, and then he did the same
thing at dinner from a cheese blintz. I asked him if girls are scarier than the Phillies and he said yes.
The Shadow
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Man About Town
by Winchell
Banks and MacKay—Double Play!
Loose lips sink ships, but the lid’s been blown off the military’s hottest secret since Mata Hari batted those luscious lashes and stole France. Private Charlie Banks, the former muscle behind the New York Giants who’s now playing ball with Uncle Sam, surrendered his post to curvy charmer Hazel MacKay with a hush-hush ceremony in Brooklyn yesterday. And it only took him two years to pop the question. Who’d’a thunk it? So what happened, Charlie? Finally get over those cold feet? Guess after this the Japs’ll be a breeze.
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Dear Winchell,
Like you would know. Why aren’t you in the Army you deadbeat?
Chas. Banks
USMC
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INTERVIEWER: Donald M. Weston, Ph.D.
SUBJECT: Joseph Charles Margolis
Q: I never saw anybody shake so much in my life.
A: Smokes, I was nervous. What if I dropped the rings?
Q: You did.
A: Only Charlie’s. I got more sweat on his than Stuke got on Hazel’s so it slid easier.
Q: What did you whisper to him when he forgot the vows?
A: “Japheth.” It was a private joke. That’s how come Rabbi Lieberman started coughing. He was the only one who got it except for me and Charlie.
Q: You know, I’ve told three people that I met Charlie Banks and Hazel MacKay but nobody believes me.
A: Now you know how it feels.
Q: And why were you so worried about Aunt Carrie? She was a champ.
A: You weren’t looking at her when the minister said “To live is Christ.” If she’d squeezed her hands any harder she would have broken her fingers.
Q: She certainly fed him well enough.
A: No, she didn’t. He got the smallest matzoh ball and no lox. Charlie bet me 25 cents that she was going to make him eat in the bathroom.
Q: By the way. Why didn’t you try to sneak on the honeymoon? I thought for sure you’d take a stab at it.
A: I did. But they were wise to me. Before the train left for Niagara Falls they checked all the cabinets. I need to come up with a couple new tricks.
Q: That shouldn’t be tough for an old pro like you.
A: Then how do I keep him from going to Camp Pendleton tomorrow?
Q: You don’t.
A: How come? I got him to take me on a road trip, didn’t I?
Q: This is different.
A: Yeah. I know.
Q: Joey, do you remember when he stood up for you at your Bar Mitzvah?
A: Smokes, like I wouldn’t?
Q: Well, now it’s your turn to do the same for him.
A: You don’t think he’ll forget about me, do you?
Q: Joey, nobody could forget about you. Especially Charlie.
A: Maybe I better make sure. Just in case.
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OPEN THIS ON THE TRAIN
Dear Charlie,
In case you don’t remember, this is my Check List from that first game in Boston when I didn’t even know how many sons Noah had for Pete’s sake. I guess it isn’t much of a going-away present but there are two reasons for it. First of all, if you put it inside your helmet before the fighting starts, maybe you can pull it out between bullets and it will make you laugh. And second of all, it will remind you of the brawl with the Bees when I kept Paul Waner from poking you in the nose. (If I hadn’t saved your ass he would have knocked your head off.)
Your buddy and
your best man,
Joey
P.S. So far Tommy Henrich hit three home runs in spring training and Mickey Owen didn’t hit any. Also Bill Terry is gone so they asked Mel Ott to manage the Giants and play third base at the same time. Aunt Carrie really let him have it because she thought they were punishing him or something. She said “So next you’re selling peanuts too? Why don’t you put your foot down?” I don’t think she gets it yet.
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Dear Joey,
You have got something up your sleave and it must be big on account of I can’t figure out what it is. We just crossed the boarder into Arkansaw and I already have lost $41 in poker to Stuke and Shiloh and Marantz and Sgt. Block due to wondering when your going to pop out of a duffle bag or get dropped from an airplane onto our caboose or mail yourself to Camp Pendleton in a cardboard box with holes in it. I knew something was fishy at the Pennsylvania Station when I had half of the USMC stationed in every door to make sure you would not dress up like a foot locker or etc. and smuggle yourself onto the train. That took alot of work—and you did not even try. And what about when we left? Hazel cried. Your Mom cried. Even Aunt Carrie cried for Christ’s sake. And then there is you. “Take care of yourself buddy.” Oh yeah. And the hand shake. That’s it? Aren’t you even going to miss me??? I thought you would of at least turned up with a couple of diseases and a fake letter from your doctor saying you would croak unless I stayed. Whatever happened to hiding out on troop transports and showing up on Guam with me and enlisting with phony papers so we could ship out together and all the rest of those things I said I would kick your butt for if you even tried them? What are you—too old for that now? Well if this is your idea of growing up, forget that I told you to be a man. I don’t think your ready for it yet.
I guess I am blowing off steam and it probably should not be at you. So I’m sorry. But these are things you think about when you find out that Corregidor and the Phillipines are almost gone and you ask yourself “What in Hell did I get myself into?”
Charlie
P.S. Thanks for the up-date on T. Henrich. Make sure you tell me when his birthday is too so I can send him a greeting card.
P.S.2. There are 800 of us on this train and only one chow car. We had to start lining up for breakfast at 6:30 in the A.M. but by the time I finally got there they were calling it lunch. SABUS. (Screwed Again By Uncle Sam.)
P.S.3. Sgt. Block got assigned to our unit after the shmuck we had on Parris Island blew out all the vains in his throat and got sent back to his fish market in Baltimore. When we found out about it at Roll Call I said to the man next to me (who I never saw before) “I wonder who our new Asshole will be” and he said back “Me.” But he does not look like a sargent, he looks normal. And he did not gig me for calling him an asshole ahead of time either.
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Teacher’s Comments:
Three weeks ago we began reading Julius Caesar in class. Given the fact that, of all the Shakespearean heroes, this one actually was a Fascist, I had little hope of slipping it past Joseph without at least a preliminary filibuster. Naturally, I was somewhat startled when nothing of the kind occurred. In fact, he requested the “Friends, Romans and Countrymen” speech for his own and promptly delivered it with the kind of aplomb normally associated with the Barrymores (the sober ones). The applause that resulted was well-deserved, and when I complimented him on his performance, he replied. “Thank you, ma’am.” Thus emboldened, I even went so far as to compare some of Caesar’s weaknesses to those of the current President of the United States—and when that too failed to elicit a rebuttal from Joseph, I merely assumed that I had lost my sanity. O, merry madness!
I suppose we have Rachel to thank for Joseph’s abrupt turnabout. Simply put, they cannot keep their eyes off of one another—although Rachel has managed to preserve at least a few shreds of practiced indifference, like a tattered flag fluttering in the breeze. They generally utilize Study Hall to pass a series of covert notes back and forth to one another whenever they assume I am not looking. It’s hard to tell from where I sit exactly what the score is—but I think Rachel is losing.
Janet Hicks
Parents’ Comments:
Thank you for en
couraging Joey to do well. We knew you would come around sooner or later.
What does Mr. Hicks do for a living, dear?
Ida Margolis
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Dear Charlie,
Could you please read these and tell me what they mean? I tried to figure it out six different ways and I still can’t.
Dear Rachel,
Your pupils are bluer than marbles, your skin is whiter than the dawn, and your hair is browner than a field that somebody just plowed.
Love,
Joey
Dear Joey,
That’s disgusting. And stop it. I’m trying to study.
Rachel
Dear Rachel,
What if I asked you to go to the movies? Would you let me take you?
Joey
Dear Joey,
I don’t know. No. Besides, boys don’t like Barbara Stanwyck and I do.
Rachel
Dear Rachel,
I love Barbara Stanwyck. And I’m sorry about the time I threw the yellow snowball at you.
Joey
Dear Joey,
If you send me one more note. I’m going to tell Mrs. Hicks. But maybe.
Rachel
Maybe what? Maybe she’ll tell Mrs. Hicks or maybe she’ll go to the movies with me? And if she was really trying to study, how come she kept looking backwards to see if I was still writing to her?
This is a lot more complicated than I thought.
Joey
P.S. And Barbara Stanwyck is a pain in the ass. Maybe if somebody threw a pie in her face she would learn how to lighten up a little for Pete’s sake.