Official Edgar Rice Burroughs Tribute Site Since 1996 ~ Over 10,000 Webpages and Webzines in Archive presents Volume 2747 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF JAMES H. PIERCE ~ XVII

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1943

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Edgar Rice Burroughs
c/o G-2 First Island Command
Somewhere in South Pacific
APO 502
20 January 1943 Joan, Darling:

I'm still "Somewhere". If I could have a word from home, it wouldn't seem so far. The nearest I have come to it lately was when Jack Rice, the photographer with whom I flew in a Fortress several months ago, blew in here a couple of days ago. He had seen Hulbert two weeks before.

A Colonel Nelson, who has just come in from Guadalcanal and is on his way to the States, will have a short stop-over at Hickam Field. He has promised to look Hulbert up and tell him that I am still alive.  Wasn't it swell about Hully's promotion?   I can't recall if I wrote you about how we heard of it. Anyhow, Hully came in December 4th to spend the night with me and the following day. Just before dinner, Harriet Brown, who lives at the Niumalu, phoned me that she had a guest in her apartment who wished to meet me. I told her that Hulbert was with me, and she said to bring him along and we'd have a high-ball. When we got there we found that her guest was Major General Willis H. Hale, Hully s Big Boss - a very swell person.   He touched Hully's gold bars, and said, "You can take those off. I promoted you this morning."   So we all drank high-balls to the event, and General Hale wrote in my autograph book, "On the day of Hully's promotion."

Yep, I hide my head in shame. I am an autograph hound. I have filled two books and am about to start on the third. I've got privates, Pfcs, corporals, sergeants, lieutenants, captains, majors, colonels, generals, nurses (pretty ones), an American Consul, two governors, Australians, New Zealanders, Englishmen, Frenchmen, and I hope to get a cannibal.   Practically all of them mean something to me. I don't ask for any that don't.

As a War Correspondent, my dear, your Dad is a flop; but he's having one hell of a good time. I work hard at it (being a correspondent; not at having a good time), but what I send in is tripe. I am occasionally up at 4 A.M. and off for a story in Bouncing Baby, my jeep. I have recently gone up with parachutists and watched them jump, and. the other day I rode for two or three hours over steep, narrow, and precipitous mountain trails with a pack artillery outfit. It was great being back in a saddle again. I have met many swell people and made numerous friends. The Army couldn't treat anyone any better than I have been treated. From General Harmon down they have done everything possible for me. If you want to start a whispering campaign just tell 'em that this outfit of Harmon's is tops and doing a swell job at the front. And you'll be stating a fact.

There is one thing I miss here more than another. That is being clean. I have only four khaki uniforms with me. I haven't space for any more. Two are in the laundry. One got soaked in the rain yesterday and covered with mud, and I got mud on the one I am wearing right after I put it on. And I am invited to a party tomorrow night by Commander Burroughs, whom I interviewed yesterday. He commands a Carrier Group of four squadrons. His branch of the family comes from New Hampshire. A very nice chap. In addition to being dirty, I am all bitten up by spiders; and I think I hate fleas. At least, a kind friend suggested that I might.

Am enclosing some pictures I thought the children might like, though I don't know why. I have never been to Ballarat. The pictures were sent to me, God only knows why, by a doting Australian mamma who wants me to get her baby daughter a job in Hollywood. I was in Australia for a couple of weeks and broadcast there several times, with the usual kick-back - people writing to ask me to do things for them. They should have written to God or Admiral Halsey. I can't do anything for them.

A great deal of love, Darling, to all of you at home.
Papa
(written)
P.S. Many happy returns of the 12th!
P.S. It is now 11:00 am, Wed. here and 5 P.M. Tues. in L.A. It doesn't make sense.

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1298 Kapiolani Boulevard
Honolulu  T H
March 5 1943

Joan darling:

On my return to Honolulu, I found two nice letters from you, of December 13 and January 15.  You could not have sent me anything for Christmas that I could wish more than your continued love and mistaken belief that I am a great guy.  Anyway, I like to have you say it.  And I am just as proud of you, dear, as you seem to be of me.

I wrote Jack yesterday; so won't repeat here, as I know he will show you the letter. Joan. you just can't imagine how wonderfully every one has treated me.  As you know, I have always been just a little bit cynical about homo sapiens.  But now I guess that I shall have to admit that God made a pretty good job when he whittled him out.  And for me, the best of them are our own people.  After spending three solid months with Army, Navy, and Marine Corps men of all ranks and grades I am so damned proud of being an American that I am on the verge of bursting.  They are friendly, they are intelligent, they are ingenious, they are courageous.  I know that there are morons and heels among us, but they are outnumbered a thousand to one.

The aborigines on the islands love us.  They hate the Japs and they are not particularly crazy about non-American whites.  Our boys laugh and kid with them. and they'll work all day for us for food and a package of cigarettes just to be with us.  They are a simple, likable. childlike people.  If they stewed you for dinner, it would not be because they disliked you.  Quite the contrary.

I was walking along a road on one of the islands when I passed close to a couple of women.  I smiled and nodded, as I did to most of the natives I passed.  The woman nearest me was a horrible looking, toothless old bag.  As she passed close to me, she pinched my leg and smiled coyly.  Who says the old S.A. isn't working?

I had a grand time on a destroyer.  Spent a month aboard her.  The Executive Officer shared his cabin with me.  He ranks next to the captain.  I sat at the Captain's right at mess.  We chased subs and dropped depth charges.  It was quite exciting.  They gave me the run of the ship.  It was fun standing on the fantail when depth charges were dropped or being on the bridge when we were entering a harbor. And ladders!  I was running up and down 'em all day.  I am convinced that there is nothing wrong with my heart.  Over the loud speaker would come the command, "Stand by for submarine attack!"   That gives one's heart a few extra beats to the second.  Then, if I didn't go aft to the fantail, I'd scamper up three ladders to the bridge as fast as I could scamper.  When the charges detonated, the ship would jump and shudder.  Just to give you an idea of the force of these charges of TNT:  Another destroyer dropped charges two and a half miles away, and our ship shook.

I bought some junk for the kids and you.  And I mean junk.  But it is from far places.  If I ever get caught up with my correspondence, I'll wrap it up and send it along.    Lots of love!

Papa

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EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS. INC.
TARZANA, CALIFORNIA
1298 Kapiolani Boulevard
Honolulu T H
April 6 1943

Joan darling:

Your nice letter of January 29 has gone too long unanswered. I don't know why. Now I can tell you a couple of the places I visited, as statements have been released in the press to the effect that we have troops in both these islands, and I was also allowed to broadcast the same to the Mainland recently.

I spent some time in New Caledonia. My letter of January 20 to you was written from there. I was quartered in a hotel in Noumea, the capital; and was sort of officially attached to G.2, Headquarters of the First Island Command, under Major General Bush B. Lincoln.

Was also in Australia for sixteen days. Had a swell time there with plenty of good food, something I had not been accustomed to for more than a year.

I was twice on Vita Levu, one of the Fiji Islands. The last time I spent twelve days in Suva. The islands are British. The native Fiji police and East Indian Sikh police are very colorful. The newspapers recently published the fact that there were some American troops there.

In a former letter I told you about the old lady who pinched my leg. That was the first time I visited Vita Levu, and was at the other end of the island from Suva. The old lady was a Fijian, and doubtless in her youth ate people. She looked like she still might.

It seems a little tame and dull here now, but I don't expect to be given another assignment. There are too many correspondents out now. However, there is occasionally something to relieve the monotony. Yesterday, Brig. General White took me to Lieut. General Delos C. Emmons picnic at Waialae Country Club. On the way, we stopped to pick up a friend of his who was going along with us, and had cocktails at her apartment.

I have never seen so many silver stars gathered together before. There were about two hundred guests, and most of the men seemed to be generals. I knew many of them, and many of the other officers and civilians. The Pfluegers, of whom you have doubtless heard me speak, sat at the next table. I know hundreds of people here. I wish that I had a better memory for faces and names.

Supper was cafeteria style (buffet to you), and consisted of hot dogs, ham, potato salad, potato chips, and all the other things that are piled on plates. There was also coffee and beer, but no hard liquor. General White furnished two of his Negro soldiers who pattered and danced. The dancer, whose name I have forgotten, was a big time night club entertainer on the Mainland. He certainly let himself go in front of all those brass hats.

There was also dancing for the guests to an army band, and the party closed with a picture - Tripoli. I think - with Dorothy Lamour, Bing Crosby and Bob Hope. There were some funny gags in it but otherwise was not so good.   On the way home we stopped at the lady's apartment for a nightcap. It was, altogether, a very pleasant evening.

"Willum" White is one of my oldest friends here. I met him in 1935 during a former tour of duty he had here. He was a major then.

Had a talk with Major Shelton yesterday, and asked him how Hully was getting along. You know. you can't get a darned thing out of Hully finer than statements to the effect that he is a wash-out and a no-good. Shelton said that he is doing a swell job. that there isn't t another photographer in that outfit that can touch him. He says that Hully is a really top-notch photographer and that his work is appreciated by men in high places. When they have important photographic missions, they sent Hully. He also spoke of Hully's conscientious attention to details and duty.   I was not surprised but it was nice to hear it. And Shelton knows, as Hulbert is directly under him. They office as well as quarter together. Their desks are backed up to each other so that they sit facing each other. There is a little lettered name plate on Hully's desk: "1st Lt. Hulbert Burroughs". They have a nice office and nice quarters - all new and modern.

Wilma Bird, wife of the Capt. Phil Bird I introduced to you by letter, had a baby recently, Anne Carol; and Phil has been doing handsprings ever since. I'll bet that baby has been toasted a thousand times. Wilma is home now, and I went up to see them Sunday with some other friends.   Phil said some time ago that inasmuch as he had been introduced to you. he was going to write you. Phil has been staff duty ever since he has been here, but yesterday he was given command of a battery. He said that he had had an extra cot put in his quarters for me. He has done a great deal for me since I met him, and I have seen more of the Army because of him than I possibly could have otherwise. He used to cart me around almost everywhere he went.

Yea I got the picture of Jane, Jack, and John Ralston. He is a cute little rat. Looks something as Jack did when a baby.   Ralph wrote me that Jack is working for Douglas. That is fine. I  know that he will make good. Like Hulbert, he knows his profession. I am glad he is not doing that newspaper page any longer. That work was too hard on his eyes, too exacting in the matter of time, and had not much of a future.

Love to you all,

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EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS, Inc.
TARZANA, CALIFORNIA
Honolulu
April 9 1943

Dear Mike:

Shortly after we dropped anchor in Suva harbor, a native Fijian paddled alongside in an outrigger canoe, bringing native fruits, vegetables, and other things to sell to the sailors.

I went aft to the fantail of the destroyer to see if he had anything I wanted.  He did.  He had a war club that I immediately thought you might like.

The sailors were crowded so thick on the fantail that I couldn't get near the rail, but a sailor got the war club for me.  And I am sending it to you by parcel post.

Suva is a town on the Island of Vita Levu, the largest of the Fiji group.   Get your mother to show you on the map where it is.

Until not so long ago the Fiji Islanders were notoriously savage cannibals.  They are a fine looking race, beautifully muscled, tall and strong.   They have long hair that sticks straight out in all directions.  They are fond of Americans, and always have a ready, engaging smile for us, greeting us with, "Bula-bula!" and a sort of salute that looks like a hitchhiker's gesture.

I have some more junk for Mamma and Joanne.  Some day I may get around to sending it on.  No longer having Ralph and Pete and Mildred to do things for me, things sometimes don't get done very promptly.

You will soon be nine, and I am told that you are a very fine boy. I wish that I might see you.  Take good care of your Mother.

Lots of love!
Your grandfather,
Edgar Rice Burroughs

To
Master Michael Pierce,
Los Angeles, California.

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EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS, Inc.
TARZANA, CALIFORNIA
1298 Kapiolani Boulevard
Honolulu T H
May 15 1943

Joan darling:

Your Air Mail letter of the 20th April and your 3 cent letter of April 26 arrived together yesterday. Also a letter from Joanne dated April 24. It is usually a waste of postage to try to send it by Clipper under present conditions. I haven't had a letter come in by Clipper for weeks.

Your letter to Phil Bird came with the others. I took it out to his battery yesterday. He was thrilled to death with it. Read it aloud to me. It was a very sweet letter. Thank you for writing it. He said he would reply to it immediately.   I collect magazines and books for Phil's battery and take them out occasionally.   Yesterday, one of his officers told me of references to me made in letters home by a couple of the enlisted men. One of them, referring to having seen me at a recent battery dance, wrote "but you're liable to meet anybody here."   Another: "He's terribly old. He must be sixty."

Am going out there to another battery dance this afternoon, taking a girl with me - maybe two. The dances are held for the men, but the officers dance, also.   At the last dance I saw a buck private cut in on a lieutenant colonel. The girls are all colors except coal black - Chinese, Korean, Hawaiian, Portuguese, and white.   The boys are, of course, from all parts of the Mainland. Just watching is a lot of fun. They serve beer, sandwiches, and hot dogs.

Phil has made an excellent record since he took command, and has received commendation from his superior officers, including a "superior" from his commanding general on accuracy of battery firing.

You say I should keep a diary. I do. At Hulbert's suggestion, I am writing up my recent experiences in the South and Southwest Pacific areas. It will make extraordinarily boring reading, but Hulbert asked for it. The Lord only knows when I will finish it, and the chances are that you won't have to read it until after the war is over; as parts of it might not pass censors, although it seems innocuous enough to me, and is certainly out dated.

Was very sorry to hear that Jane has chickenpox. Hope Johnny doesn't contract it, but he probably will - or has. It must be over by this time.

As far as I know (in reply to your inquiry), none of my stories appeared in Mainland papers. Until today, I thought they were so rotten that United Press wouldn't release them (and they were rotten). But today I received a letter from George Carlin, General Manager of United Feature Syndicate, a subsidiary of United Press, in which he says: "The United Press reported that the stories you sent were swelL, but somehow the subscribing papers did not come through with the promotion and display anticipated. This was probably due to the press of big war news, especially from North Africa."

That made me feel a little better.  A few that were run here seemed to be very well liked.  I was just getting onto the knack of the thing when the Navy refused me transportation to Guadalcanal.  Perhaps I am just as well off.  I was more scared of malaria than I was of the Japs, and malaria caused more casualties down there than bullets - both among our own troops and those of the Japs.  The worst part of contracting malaria is that one may be subject to recurring attacks for the rest of one's life.

Hope your Victory Garden is more of a success than any of my gardens ever were.  But it probably won't be.  If the damn things come up at all, there are always a million pesky pests to devour them before you can.  I was once successful in growing strawberries at the Mecca Avenue Place.  And the quail came in and ate them all.  I couldn't do a thing about it, because nothing could induce me to kill a quail - as you probably recall.

Thanks a lot for your letters.  I look forward to them.   Haven't heard from Ralph since his letter of April 2nd.

Love,
Papa

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EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS, Inc.
TARZANA, CALIFORNIA
1298 Kapiolani Boulevard
Honolulu 42 Hawaii
August 3 1943

Joan darling:

Received your letter of July 17 yesterday, and it was good to hear from you again.  I know how you feel about bills.  The first of each month used to be a terrific headache for me.  But no more.  I pay cash for everything.  It is a grand and glorious feeling to meet the dawn of each new month knowing that the sword of Damocles is not hanging over my head.  I am enclosing a check for $100 which you may use if you wish to start you on the road to that beatific condition.   There is just one rule to follow: Buy nothing for which you cannot pay cash.

Life here has ceased to be very exciting.  I am ashamed to say that outside of a little bridge, a little poker, and an occasional cocktail party I do nothing.  I cannot think of anything to write.  Whatever creative urge or ability I may have had has apparently vanished. My main occupation is reading the Encyclopedia Britannica.  In five weeks I have gotten as far as CLOOTS. JEAN BAPTISTS DU VAL GRACE, BARON VON.   I still have a long way to go.  Have also been reading a brief history of the Pharaohs. Inasmuch as about all that is known of them is taken from eulogistic inscriptions from their tombs, temples, and other monuments, inscribed there by sycophantic biographers who would have lost both their jobs and their heads if they had told the truth, I am not as deeply impressed as I might be.

Just at present, when not engaged with the Britannica, I am reading the autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini, a great artist, but also a lecherous braggart, a liar, a thief, a murderer, a traitor, and all-in-all one of the most scurrilous of all historic characters.

Pope Alexander VI and his bastard son, Caesare Borgia, are two other choice products of Italy into whose putrid lives I have again been dipping.  I can say this for them, that their villainies fascinate one. The Pope's illegitimate daughter, Lucretia Borgia, has been much maligned.  She was the most decent of the lot.  Or perhaps I should say, the least indecent.  Benito, Edda, and the other Fascists had an all-time low mark to shoot at, but they have done pretty well. I am waiting for another assignment, which I shall not get.

Lots of love,
Papa

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EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS, Inc.
TARZANA, CALIFORNIA
1298 Kapiolani Boulevard
Honolulu 42 Hawaii
October 2 1943

24
Joan darling:

I'll start this reply to your nice letter of September 17, which I found in my mail box this morning; but I shall have to finish it to-morrow, as I must go back to my quarters and listen to the California-USC game, which starts at 11:15 A.M. Hawaii War Time.

Thanks!   My eye was perfectly O.K. within a week after the accident. I ran into Dr. Holmes, my occulist, on the street yesterday; and he told me again how lucky I had been and that he had been very much worried about me at the time of my accident.

And I don't need anyone "to take care of me" - period.  I sew on my own buttons, and when the holes in my socks get too large, I throw the socks in the waste basket.  I have even done a little of my own washing on occasion and also some of my pressing.  It takes a long time to get these things done here, and often they are not done any too well.

I never want for company, as I keep a stock of library books on hand; and no one can lack for company who has a good book to read.  I wish that you might see the long list of books that I have read since I started to keep a list of them in August.  Then, of course, I have some social contacts - bridge, poker, and parties.  I have not been in so great demand for the last named since August 10th, when I stepped onto the wagon temporarily. (And now for football.  Aloha!)

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Monday, October 4

I didn't come down to the office Sunday, as I had expected to do. Watched several sets of paddle tennis at the hotel until noon.  Then Lt. (j.g.) Bob Kahn phoned me, and I asked him over for lunch.  He said he had a friend with him; so I told him to bring him along. Kahn had a letter of introduction to me from Hal Thompson (Rochelle's husband).  Kahn brought not only his friend, Capt. Fred Baumstark, USMC (Marine, not Medical), but also a present of a full quart of Bourbon; so I stepped down off the wagon before lunch.  After lunch, I telephoned Mildred Rathbone, who lives with Leila Langford a few cottages from me, and asked her if I could bring a couple of friends down to meet her.  She said, "Come on; we are just having a drink." We found Capt. John King there.  He had brought in two quarts of Bourbon the day before.  I had played bridge with him and Mildred the previous evening until 12 or 1 o'clock.  So we stuck around there until Mildred and King went out to get some lunch.  Mildred told us we'd be more comfortable on her lanai, and to stay there until they came back.  So we brought my bottle of Bourbon and stayed.

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busy.  Brig. Genl. Landon of the 7th Air Force, with whom I have become very well acquainted, brought in a portfolio of Hully's pictures for me to see.  They were all good, and many of them magnificent.  One very cute one was of a little Polynesian boy, stark naked except for a soldiers tin hat.  He was a beautiful child with enormous brown eyes.  In honor of that occasion, I stepped down from the wagon, after a month and a half, to join the general.  He is a very swell person, and only a few years older than Hully and almost as good looking.

I sure am proud of Hully when he comes in to visit me, he is so damned good looking.  All my friends at the hotel are crazy about him. too. Few men are blessed with three such children as mine.

Was invited to come to the dedication of a library at an Army post on the Windward Side.  Last Monday, an officer brought me about five hundred souvenir programs.  He wanted me to autograph some of them; so I autographed them all.  But when I read one of them, I damn near passed out.  I'll enclose one for you.  Was told that they would like to have me "say a few words".   The program, as you will note, indicated that I was guest speaker and was to deliver an address!  Jesus, lover of my soul!   To make it all the more horrifying, a really impressive audience turned out.  The colonel commanding the post was there. There were lieutenant colonels, majors, captains, lieutenants, ladies, enlisted men.  I did my best, which is anything but hot; but I got a lot of laughs.  It was a very generous audience.  They sent a sedan for me.  As a rule I am transported in a command car or a jeep, neither of which is the acme of comfort.

Just received a letter from George, dated August 30, the day following his seventy-seventh birthday.   It is difficult for me to realize that he and I are so old.  He says that he is really beginning to feel his age now, and that he can no longer do the work that he used to.  Edna's nurse, whom he kept on after Edna died, helps him.  Without her help, he says. he could not keep his place going.  His letter was very cheerful.  He leads a quiet, contented life with his chickens and his pedigreed Cocker Spaniels, which he breeds and sells.  He says that he never hears anything about the family, and asked me if Emma and Jessie were still alive.

I really didn't start out to write a book, but writing you is the next best thing to visiting with you; and I get a lot of pleasure from it. Were I a praying person, I should pray daily that we may all be re-united soon.  It is the one thing that Hulbert and I look forward to.

Lots of love to you and the children!
Papa

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Edgar Rice Burroughs
Tarzana, California
1298 Kapiolani Boulevard
Honolulu 42 Hawaii
November 2 1943

Joan darling:

I don't wonder that I haven't heard from you lately.  I just looked in my files and saw my last letter to you - October 2 - nearly three single spaced pages!   But I promise not to do it this time.  I just feel like visiting with you.

Haven't heard from Jack since his letter of July 13.  But I know that he is very busy.  I shall write him soon, as I shouldn't wait for a letter from him for an excuse.  How I wish I could see you both!

A reputedly well known Mainland photographer, now here, told a friend of mine that Hulbert is doing the finest war photography that he has seen.  His name is W. Eugene Smith.  They say he added the W because there is another Eugene Smith here.

Last night I dreamed that I was married again.  To whom, I didn't find out.  But I knew I was married because I was sitting at a desk with a pile of bills, making out checks.  I woke up with a headache. But what a relief when I realized that it had been only a dream.

My most recent letter from Ralph was the most optimistic and cheerful letter that I have ever received from him.  It added to my now normal state of cheerfulness.  He has done a wonderful job for the corporation and for all of us.  I hope that you full appreciate what he has accomplished against great odds and also his almost unbelievable loyalty to each and every one of us.  I am confident that Ralph could have his pick of many jobs that would pay him far more then he is getting and at the same time be free from all the many griefs he has shouldered for us.  He is highly intelligent, and his integrity has been proved beyond the shadow of a doubt.  Shannon saw to that, and is convinced by incontrovertible evidence.  We should give Ralph every possible support within our power, not only because he deserves it, but because if we lost him, God only knows what would happen to the corporation - and that is going to mean a lot to you children in later years.  It has meant a lot to all of us for twenty years.

Just phoned Phil Bird to ask him to dinner, but the colonel told him he couldn't leave tonight, as he (the colonel) is going on pass; so I am going up to have dinner with Phil.  He has asked me several times if you ever received his letter.  He has been hoping for one from you.  His address: Capt Phil Bird, Hq, 2nd Bn. 64th CA(AA), APO 958, c/o Postmaster, San Francisco, etc.   Their baby must be a hundred years old by this time, it seems so long ago since the regiment and a war correspondent were toasting her... frequently and raucously.

I let you off easy this time.

Lots of love!
Papa

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Edgar Rice Burroughs
Tarzana, California
1298 Kapiolani Boulevard
Honolulu 42 Hawaii
December 28 1943

Joan darling:

Thanks for the Christmas card and the little note of good wishes. It made good time, arriving on the 27th.

I met a Lieutenant Hall the other day who said that he met you in Los Angeles when he was stationed there. Had dinner with him at his mess. He commands an AA battery. A very nice chap.

Have been entertaining a couple of Marine captains just back from Tarawa. One of them, Don Jackson, I met with Hal Thompson in Noumea a year ago. His home is in Santa Monica.   I sure met a lot of people on my trip down there, and every now and then one of them pops up in the news: Lt. Col. P. L. Hooper of Galveston mentioned in the taking of Tarawa, New Britain, the other day.

********* Well bless my soul look whose here--an old admirer of yours who loves you good but never hears from you—you guessed it—Phil Bird. I just came into Ed's office to interrupt his day and take him to Pearl Harbor with Me. He tells me he is too blankety blank busy to go but I'm not giving him a chance, and am taking him anyhow. We certainly wish you could make arrangements to get yourself over here and are looking forward with a great deal of glee to our coming meeting after the war. Best wishes always, Phil

******
December 29

Now to continue where Phil interrupted me. Yesterday I read of the death of Brydon Taves, UP Bureau Chief. Australia.  He was killed in an airplane crash in New Guinea. I met  him in Sydney. Frank Cubel, Mutal Broadcasting correspondent, whom I met in Noumea last December, was killed in that plane crash at Lisbon. Dick Tregaskia (Guadalcanal Diary), whom I also met in Noumea, was badly wounded in Italy recently. The destroyer McKean, which came back from the South Pacific with my destroyer, was torpedoed and sunk off Bougainville last month. I knew her officers quite well, especially her skipper. He was not lost. We spent a lot of time together at the Grand Pacific Hotel in Suva, and I also had dinner aboard the McKean. This morning's paper ran an item saying that Lt. Col. Philip F. LaFollette, former governor of Wisconsin, landed at Cape Glouster with the Marines last week. He was the first officer I met when I landed on New Caledonia. And so it goes.
(over)
True to his word, Phil kidnapped me yesterday and took me to dinner at the Officers' Club at Shafter. Then to Pearl Harbor and Ford Island. On the way home we stopped at the PH Officers' Club and the Outrigger Canoe Club on Waikiki Beach.

In the evening I gave a little dinner at the Outrigger. There were sixteen of us. The Birds were there. Phil gave me a swell Ronson lighter - one of those with a wind guard that you pull up in a gale. My party was a little short of girls, there being but six. But they liked that. Among the guests were three Marine captains, an Army Lt. Colonel, a Navy lieutenant, and a G-man, and, of course, Capt. Bird. After dinner, Leila Langford asked us all to her Apartment at the Niumalu, where there was much singing to the accompaniment of a uke played by Don Jackson, who, individually, is all the entertainment any party needs.

Leila Langford painted the originals of the anthuriums and gardenias that I sent you, Jane, and Jack. She also colored the photographic reproductions. The framing was done at the shop of Floye Garrison, our top portrait photographer. She and her husband. Sterling Adams, were also at my party. He is the G-man I mentioned. They are all wonderfully lovely people, and Leila and Floye are beauties.

I hope my reference to going to dinner with Phil at Shafter and then giving a dinner later didn't confuse you. It's not my fault. It's the Army's. It has its dinners at noon.

In my last letter to you I mentioned playing poker at Shafter. During the game I acquired a $25 check. It bounced back on me the other day. I told Phil about it, and he promised to see the officer who gave it. Yesterday, when he came in, he was wild eyed. A $50 check that he had come by in the same game, issued, by the same man, had bounced back to him. Now he's really going after the guy. It's a court martial offense. An officer can be cashiered for it.   And, speaking of poker, I got into a nice game Monday evening and won $100.

Hulbert has suggested that in my writing I talk too much about myself. I guess he's right. But if I talk about other people, that's gossip. And anyway if I just talk about myself  I'll never be sued for libel. I hope you don't mind. There are really a lot of interesting things to write about here, but they'd never pass the censors. If they are of military interest, I never mention them unless they have appeared in the press.   When you write me, I always want to hear about you - what you are doing and even what you are thinking.

Lots of love and a Happy New Year!
Papa

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