Somewhere in the Pacific, 1943

Editor’s note: This letter was censored in transit by military authorities.

Dear Jimmy,

I wrote a letter to mom and daddy, but I know you would like to hear from me too, so I thought I’d write this while I have some time. I’m not supposed to talk too much about where we’re going or where we’ve been or what we’re doing because the brass is afraid the Japs might get ahold of the mail somewhere between here and the states.

Anyway, mom and daddy have probably told you I am a Sea-Bee, which means I drive a bulldozer and help build things like air-strips, roads, and generally anything that needs to be built. It is hard work, and dangerous, but usually in a different way than the boys doing the fighting. Sometimes we get caught up in an air raid when we’re on land or a torpedo run when we’re in transit, and it can get pretty hairy when that happens. Don’t worry though, because we fight better and harder and are much more careful than the Japs, so we will be all right.

In fact, I have a funny story about an air raid we got into recently. We were onboard ship on the way from Auckland to New Britain to build an airstrip. I was in the mess with some of the boys having coffee when the klaxons sounded. The Sea-Bees don’t really have a job on ship, so our job was to stay out of the way. All the boys in the mess started running to quarters, and we could hear the Jap planes strafing us overhead. I was headed down to quarters when I felt a searing pain on my arm. Darned if I didn’t think I’d been hit. I just knew I was going to bleed to death, but I kept on running until I got to my rack. When I got there, I looked at my arm and saw a big wet splash on my sleeve. I was moaning and groaning and swearing I was dying, until one of my buddies started laughing and said, “Well, hell, Tolson, I just spilled my coffee on you. You ain’t dying!”

Anyway, the Japs were darn good at missing that day, and we got through the air raid with no problems. One of the gunners even shot one of the bastards down.

You asked me in your last letter about whether there was any women around. Gee, I remember when I was thirteen like you and only thought about girls. Truth is, I ain’t changed much. To answer your question, sometimes when we’re at liberty, we see a gal here and there, either on base or in town. We aren’t supposed to fraternize (that means mess with) the natives, but I’ll tell the truth, some of those native girls are so pretty it’s hard not to give them a dance and a kiss here and there.

I can imagine the look on your face right now, but before you go and give mom a heart attack, I’d better tell you the truth. On that liberty I was telling you about, me and some of the boys went out drinking, and sometime that night I reckon I passed out, because when I woke up the next morning my left arm was burning like fire. I looked down and saw that it was all wrapped up in brown paper. I managed to get the paper off and darned if them boys hadn’t got me tattooed while I was passed out. She’s a real pretty gal in a grass skirt winking back over her shoulder like Hedy Lamarr. I can make her dance the hootchie kootchie, and I’ll show you when I get home.

Well, I guess I’d better close for now. We’ve got a hard day tomorrow, as we have to go up to the base on Hunter’s Atoll and put up a dock for the 101^st Battle Group.

Your brother,

Sgt. Bill Tolson, USN

P.S. Don’t tell mom about that coffee getting spilled on me or me going out drinking or the girls or tattoos. It will only worry her. You can show this letter to daddy, though, because he will get a kick out of it.

--Bill.

© 2025 Brian G Parker