Sept. 19, 1943

Dear Pauline-

I have left Australia and now am on an island somewhere in the southwest Pacific. I got a touch of sea sickness the second day out. I thought we would see some excitement but nothing occurred.

I had my first glimpse of coco palms at a distance and was surprised to find out how tall some of these coconut trees grow. One morning I threw rocks for a half-hour trying to knock down a coconut. My arm got sore and I quit. Finally a native came along and seemed like he just walked up the tree. He threw down several.

The natives here are black and sport a bushy head of hair. The hair stands straight up off their heads. The men wear G-strings or loin-clothes, and the women grass skirts and a smile. Once in a while you see a woman with well-developed breasts. Most of them are friendly and smiling and eager to oblige.

It gets kind of hot here (about 140 degrees). A nice cold glass of beer sure would hit the spot. Outside of some jungle juice, some cooks concoct. There is no liquor here. Word got around one day [about] a boat docked with some beer on board. One sailor turned down 24 bucks for a case without batting an eye.

Here’s a yarn he told us about at the last port he was in: [The] first [week], when a fly wandered into the beer, they would throw the beer away. The second week, they would take the fly out. The third week they took the fly out, squeezed him dry, then drank the beer. The next week they drank the fly. And from then on, they would catch them and put them in their beer for flavor.

This one is about a soldier that went to a native village, and tried to trade a carton of cigarettes for a grass skirt to send home as a souvenir: He came across some fuzzy-wuzzies and met the chief, after some talking and some motioning of hands. The chief spoke to the girl in fuzzy talk. She started to follow him down the road, so he came back to the chief and told him all he wanted was the skirt, and not the girl in it. After a little more jabbering, the girl took off the skirt and handed it to him. There she stood in her birthday suit and him as red as a beet. I wonder what a box of cigars would get.

Here’s a couple of words and their meanings in the native lingo: Kai- Kai means food. Pom-Pom is what married couples indulge in. The fuzzy-wuzzies say pom-pom is no good – make ‘em too tired next day.

I received your V-mail dated Thursday, Aug. 12, 1943. Those postal checks are lost or are in the dead letter department at the post office, either in Trenton, NJ or Pittsburgh. I’m not worrying about the checks, as they will make them good in due time. I had some personal papers in that package. My army discharge papers from Camp Davis were in that package, [along with] some other papers I just can’t recall.

On about September 18, 1943, I had $200 bucks radioed to you, and you should be notified about it soon. It takes about eight days. When you receive this money, keep $50 dollars and buy yourself and the rest some Christmas presents.

Down here in the tropics, it is very hot and the work details are curtailed in the afternoons. We are constantly reminded of the Malaria disease. This disease is not often fatal but once contacted it takes weeks to recuperate.

We take Atabrine (a substitute for Zuinine) everyday except Sunday, usually at supper. Atabrine doesn’t prevent you from getting Malaria, but it helps control Malaria.

This disease is all due to a female mosquito called Anopheles. Some of these mosquitoes are big enough to make you want to dive in a slit trench. We are issued repellent, and at sundown roll down out sleeves and cover up out legs. At night we sleep under mosquito net and tuck it under the blankets so the mosquitoes have a hard time getting in. If some happen to get in, we put a flash light between our feet and start swinging.

Well, Pauline, I am going to close now and go down to the creek, to wash some of my clothes. You are always harping at me for not writing often. I don’t write often but I write plenty, that is what’s left after the censor gets through with it. You get some and the censor some and I get hell for writing something I’m not supposed to.

You want to remember: No news from me is good news. For if anything serious happens to me, you will hear about it from the War department. So don’t start worrying because of the lack of letters. So long – see you later. Love and best wishes to all.

Your bro,

Pete

P.S. My new A.P.O. number is 503 – tell Ma to play it for a week before Christmas – she might hit. Ask the old man if he would like a drink of coconut milk instead of a shot of whiskey and say ‘hello’ to Mary and Frank.