A Letter That Was Never Opened

This post is one I never thought I would be writing. Last night I was going through a box of old photos and "stuff " that was moldy smelling. I doubted that there would be anything I could use for my blogs.
Then I found a sealed letter from my now 101 year old Uncle Leslie to my mother.
It was postmarked March 16, 1942. No return address, no street address. Just her name Mrs. Ray A. Johnson, Nashua, Iowa. The stamp cost three cents. It was from Red Bank, New Jersey.
It was so old I didn't want to open it. I told my husband. "This letter to mom was never opened." He told me to open it. I opened it with my mother's very old, at least ninety years old very long finger nail file.
The paper, of course, was yellow with age and it felt almost like soft cloth when I opened it. It was one of the most almost chilling experiences I have ever had.
It was hand written of course, and written in extraordinary penmanship. They taught that in school then, you know.
I scanned the letter, but I am going to print it for you so that you can understand what he is saying.
Dear Sis, Ray, and Kids:
I received your letter and Mother's yesterday. They are quite welcome, thank you. I haven't written or received one before until yesterday. This week, sometimes I don't know what to writye or I"m afraid I"ll do too much repeating. I go over to the Service Club now and then and get some free stationary/ Your (sp) only supposed to take two sheets of paper and one envelope, but you know how it is, they seem to stick together. (ha) I still have a few sheets left of this. Of course, I still have some at home, that Mom will send when I get out. The buzzer just sounded for lights out, so I had to much my table, (footlocker) in front of the door where the fire escape light shines in. There is a loud specker system in each barracks. Its connected with the Orderly room where are (sp) company commander is. You see there are (sp) four barracks in each company. Who ever has charge of the commanders office has something that looks like a radio he talks into. He can speak to each barracks seperately or all together. Its just like talking over a telephone. When something doesn't go just right here we get a bawling out thru that speaker. Its on the first floor, but I can here it plain up here. I was to Red Bank this afternoon and spent a little time at the U.S.O. Club. Its a place for soldiers to spend their spare time. They have ping pong, billiards, pianos of which one is a player and dance floor, eating counter, bowling alley. I played some billiards. Its fun when it don't cost anything.
A group picture was taken of each barracks the other day by a commercial photographer. I've heard us fellows will have a chance to buy one of them.I had my picture taken, but haven't had time to go and get them. The photo shop is at the main (He stops and writes "over) down and to the right of the page.
Before I continue this very young man was fresh off the farm in Iowa and had always lived with my grandpa and grandma. I have a feeling they were fit to be tied.
(The back side says):
post which is about half a mile. I have to miss chow or there closed up. It seems everything closes early except the eating counters. We've been getting pretty good meals lately. I guess something broke loose because the chow was junk when I came. Some woman makes up the menus for all the mess halls. Every company has a mess hall of its own. Each has that same kind of chow. I like the bread and butter. The bread tastes and looks like home made. It comes in fresh every day. It sure costs Uncle Sam a lot to feed us. I've heard rumors that us buck privates might get $42.00 a month sometime in the near future. Some of these Catholic fellas would spend there week-ends more than ever drinking whiskey. These fellas go to church regular. One of them went to 6 A.M. Mass this morning. We didn't have revielle this morning so I laid abed until 7:30. I even skipped breakfast. I made up for it at noon. We had roast chicken, chicken soup, salad, ice cream. etc. Pretty good meal. There wasn't many for supper because quite a few fellas had week end passes! Each barracks takes there turns at weekends. Our comes next week. Any fella can get a local pass every weekend, but he has to be in at  11.00 P.M. that nite.

I've been going to switchboard school this past week and have one more of it. We have to be able to operate about five different kinds. I believe you would like to work these, Ray.You fool around with keys and cords. Us linemen aren't suppose to operate one all the time, only in an emergency. We have speed tests in setting them up and folding them up.
                                                             Write Soon
P.S. Tell Ray to be careful to not fill up on that jelly. We get jam.
How's the Ford taking it?

I typed his letter exactly as he wrote it. He was twenty-five years old.
That letter was written in March of 1942, my five year old sister was killed in a freak snow sledding accident in December of 1942 and my grandfather Johnson died just two months later in February of 1943.