Murray to Rosa, First day in the army, August 30, 1943

Monday, August 30

Dearest...

So far, so good.

After the bus pulled out our group walked to the wrong information gate where a MP stopped us. He made a phone call and in due time--I'm getting used to waiting already--a truck came for us and, feeling a little silly and a little important we climbed aboard. 

One nice thing at this building was the arrival of Nate Krems--the brilliant Jewish kid we knew at the University of Washington. He was supposed to be with a Seattle delegation but was sidetracked somewhere along the line and as he put it, wound up "demoted to front-row Hoquiam."

Krems, son of the founders of the Seattle weekly The Jewish Voice, and a magazine editor himself by age ten, was a Seattle Times reporter while still in high school and entered UW at thirteen. He earned degrees in both journalism and law. He and Murray later learned that his Army classification was delayed because the officer in charge challenged the dates Krems had provided for his education. He didn't believe a twenty-nine-year-old in 1943 could have started college in 1928.

We sat around for quite a while until it was lunch time--and past--and then we were marched to the mess hall. It is a cafeteria and bigger and noisier than any in New York. The food is served on a tray with dents in it for each course and a big sign warns

TAKE ALL YOU WANT

BUT EAT ALL YOU TAKE

The food was good: hot hash, beans (green), fried spuds, salad and cookies. Bread, butter and coffee were on the tables. The cracks about the food were good--but not justified. "Now I know where the Army mules went" drew a good laugh because everyone wanted something to laugh at. 

After lunch we went back to the room we had been in, and a private first class gave a short talk on how nice we would find sergeants and such, and a reminder that desertion was punishable by death. Then we filed out and were given our pay record and a card on a cloth string which we have to wear at all times until we are shipped. It shows we are newcomers--who could miss us?--and means we are not expected to salute.

A private marched us to our barracks and told us to pick out the bed we wanted. I lost a race for an upper and now have Nate's fanny clearing my noggin by an inch or so as I write.

...

The best crack I heard today came from a Pole Nate knew. He's waiting for an expected Language & Areas assignment and he's been waiting quite a time. He had been in the Polish army so Nate asked how he thought the two armies compared. He clutched his balding head and moaned, "Ah Christ, this not is an army even yet."

...

All my love Nunny. I hope I've seen you before you get this. M