Robert D. Davis



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WWII, World War 2, letters, Army, poisoned liquor, Detachment


World War, 1939-1945; United States--Army


Davis writes that he and his friend got schnapps. He mentions to his parents that there have been cases of poisoned liquor left behind for American soldiers. Davis then describes how great his Detachment is, mentioning that they have received a commendation from a general. Davis writes that their Detachment is well known and that non-coms often dine with them, including (to his amusement) the top mess sergeant. He writes that he brought a girl to be tested for venereal disease and that he has picked up a lot of new vocabulary.


Pfc. Robt D. Davis, 18107121

CoE, Det. I7E3, 3rd ECA

APO 658. c/o Postmaster. N.Y.

Mrs. R.L. Davis

1619 Boston

Muskogee, Okla.



8 February 1945


Dear Folks:

How’s everything? Its all going O.K. with me. I got off a few letters tonite; one to an army friend, another to the Rygel’s, and this one to you. I think that I will write Harold a note later. Yesterday I got a huge batch of letters, about 20 from you, and one from Brigit and Harold. Glory be, the good old New Yorker is coming thru’ in remarkable time. For the first month, I’ve already receive three copies.

The other day we got hold of some Schnapps, which is Rye whiskey. Because we wanted to be sure of its purity (there have been cases of poisoned liquor left behind from American consumption), we tried to have it analyzed; but there were no chemical laboratories handy. So we, rather cynically I thought, gave some of it away, and let another, wildly happy crowd, sample it first. There were no bad effects observed, and so we began to celebrate tonite. Unfortunately I am on Charge of Quarters in the office tonite, so I must miss the festivities in progress in the Enlisted Mens’ quarters.

Now I think I’ll brag a little about our Detachment. Its absolutely tops, and I’m very glad to be in it. We’ve got a good Commanding Officer, who knows how to get the job done, and who doesn’t mind complimenting you when you do a think all right. The Enlisted Men are all swell guys, and the entire outfit functions together like a clock. We have received one commendation from a General, and we are standing in very solidly with the Division to which we are attached. All the officers and men of this Division (which, incidentally, is a very famous one ) knows us, and we have integrated ourselves by such items as handing out radios to the troops, and having the top non-coms down for dinner at our splendidly set table. (The best, and funniest, case, is the top mess sergeant for the divisional headquarters. Because we draw food items from him, it was good to woo him assiduously. We did. He had been down to our house several times for dinner, and there’s no doubt that he’s highly pleased with the service, and range and skill of the cuisine, and probably, with our blond waitress. His first meal with us was our lavish New Year’s Eve dinner, and he couldn’t believe his eyes. Also, besides the comedy of the highest cooking man in the group being glad to sneak away for some home cooking, perfectly understandable, there is the inexpressible bewilderment that the good Sergeant, Himself way up the road of stripes, has, when he considers that 5 Pfc’s and a Corporal are eating and living so damn well.)

This morning I took a girl to be tested for venereal disease. In the last few months of work, I have squired a vast amount of new words that one wouldn’t learn in an unrealistic college course. Its incredibly muddy up here.

Love, Bob

Letter from Germany, 1945 February 08


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