Tag Archives: Trumbull
Trumbull – Dear Turkey Eaters (2) News From Dan – November 26, 1944
Daniel Beck Guion
From “somewhere in France” the following very welcome message arrived (from Dan): “Roughing it again! (In a manner of speaking, that is) a good excuse to write a letter! I am sitting on an army cot in an abandoned Nazi barracks, somewhere in France. The pale light of a kerosene lamp acts as a monitor to my flailing pencil. In the corner, a wood stove adds its pungency to the heavy odor of kerosene fumes, while a group of boys are playing cribbage on an improvised table in the center of the room. On the door, Jerry has left “Conchita”, a hard looking Spanish beauty, smoking a cigarette and staring impersonally toward the doorknob. Standing beside the stove is a burlap sack, plump with coke which we found near an abandoned gun sight. It will keep the chill from our slumber about 2 o’clock in the morning. After I have finished writing this letter I shall pay a visit to the café half a kilometer down the road. We shall sit in the kitchen talking to the proprietor whose husband is a prisoner of the Germans. We shall sip a glass of rather innocuous beer and lament the departure of more exciting spirits which accompanied Jerry back to Germany. We shall hear of the interminable air raids which, until recently, have been the daily lot of these French villagers for months before D-Day – – air raids launched by the British by night and the Americans by day – – bombings which brought both hope and despair with each explosion.
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In this café kitchen, our illumination will be the bright jet of a carbide lamp, with a useless electric bulb hibernating in its socket waiting the day when current will again course through it’s filaments. At about 10 o’clock we shall bid good night to our hosts and return to our barracks – – return to our bunks where we shall slumber until the cook awakens us in time for breakfast. I have finally received one of the packages you sent last August. It was the one containing a French grammar, some hard water soap, chocolate, tobacco and Kodachrome film. I am continually amazed by the uncanny knack you have of sending me precisely the things I most appreciate. Each item mentioned above is priceless in this part of France where even our army rations are monotonous and sketchy. We dream of visions of such rarities as fresh milk, ice cream, fresh eggs, bananas, lettuce salad and a hundred and one other things that used to be commonplace and taken for granted – – a bathroom with hot and cold water and plenty of light for shaving, a bed with a mattress and two sheets, and a radio beside it, plenty of clean clothes and a place to keep them, an automobile to drive and freedom to go where you wish and stay as long as you want – – no checking out on “pass” and returning for bed check! Oh well, as the Frenchmen say, “Ca viendre!” which means in literal Yankeenese, “It won’t be long now.”
Tomorrow, Grandpa will write a short note to Dan and we will hear from and read Grandpa’s response to Dave’s letter.
Judy Guion
Trumbull – Dear Turkey Eaters (1) – Opening Remarks and Shortages – November 26, 1944
Alfred Duryee Guion (Grandpa) . This picture shows a usual Thanksgiving or Christmas Dinner at the Trumbull House.
Trumbull, Conn., Nov. 26, 1944
Dear Turkey Eaters:
“I see by the papers” that you boys, who are temporarily in Uncle Sam’s employ, all enjoyed a traditional Thanksgiving with all the fixin’s, and by the way, was going us one better at home as we were unable to get either turkey or cranberry sauce, which is quite satisfactory if our lack means that you all really did “get the bird”. I have not yet heard the details of Ced’s holiday repast but if his last letter is any criterion, he too, gets things in Alaska we cannot get in Connecticut. For instance, he writes of a punch made from lemons. Now you may recall that in my last, I plagiarized Lewis Carroll a bit in that memorable passage where the Walrus said it was time to talk of ships and shoes and sealing wax and cabbages and Kings. Well, there is just as strange an assortment of items that are unobtainable here. There is the aforementioned lemons, which have been entirely unobtainable here for several months. Some attribute it to the black market, some to the fact that most of our former supply has come from California and the shipment from that point in refrigerator cars ties up so many of these limited supply of specialized railway equipment needed for men of the service that they simply have not been shipped. Then too, the recent hurricane destroyed the Florida crop, although Friday I was able to get a few Texas lemons that had just arrived. There is also a shortage of such diverse items as clothes pins, safety matches, linen sheets (cotton), canned salmon, cigarettes, canned corned beef, camera films, refrigerators and candy. There are of course many others, supplies of which appear on sale for a day or two, are bought up rapidly and again disappear for long periods. It gets so now that when you see anything on sale that you have formerly needed or may need in the future, unless you immediately buy it, you’re out of luck, when during the next day or so, you return again to make the purchase. Right now there is a shortage of anti-freeze. I should have bought a few, weeks ago, when I had the chance. All I have in the car now is what was left over from last year and it needs to be strengthened for very cold weather. Oh well, time will cure all these things.
It was a real Thanksgiving week for us here in the main as far as letters from you boys were concerned. Lad was the only one we did not hear from and that wasn’t his fault. (Lad has shipped out and Grandpa does not know where he is going or when he will hear from him)
For the rest of the week I will be posting a long letter from Grandpa with news and notes to four of his five sons, all involved in the war effort.
Judy Guion
Trumbull – Dear Boys – News About Various Family Members – May 24, 1942
“As you can see from the postmark, Ayer, Massachusetts, location of Ft. Devens) I am now a member of Uncle Sam’s Army. However, I have not the faintest idea as yet just what will happen or where I will go. We got into Hartford about 7:50 and started immediately to pass through (no info) the physical. I passed O.K. At present, we are enroute to ________, and, boy, it sure is a rough track.
More later. AG”
Trumbull, Conn., May 24, 1942
Dear Boys:
A postal card from Lad reveals that he is, and expects for the next six or eight weeks, to be at Ordnance Replacement Center,
Aberdeen Proving Grounds, Maryland, Co. B, 1st Ordnance Training Battalion. I am awaiting further details to learn whether this was his choice, based possibly on the fact that his experience with moving heavy equipment with Socony-Vacuum or possibly the use of diesels in transporting big guns, or whether he was just sent there willy-nilly. I asked Harry Robinson one day how he became deaf and he told me that during the first World War, they sent him to Aberdeen and the concussion from the firing of the big guns was what destroyed his hearing.
No news from Dan, merely a request to have Barbara (Barbara Plumb, Dan’s girlfriend from Trumbull) bring down with her his Alaskan slides which he had promised to show to several interested parties in Roanoke Rapids (Virginia, where San is Receiving Army Training). Barbara left Thursday night and expected to arrive Friday morning, returning to Bridgeport
Daniel Beck Guion – (Dan)
in time for work Tuesday morning. I hope to receive, even though it be secondhand, more detailed information from this tantalizing individual who merely writes he now has a specialists rating carrying with it a boost of $20 in his pay, but what the rating is for, how obtained, etc, is left to the imagination. He also refers to the possibility of making application to Officer’s Candidate School, but beyond that bare fact no more information is vouchsafed. He does mention that he has applied for a furlough early in July, which he will not know definitely can be granted for some time, and announces he has definitely decided not to use his car down there.
Dick has just received card notification from Draft Board that he is in Class 1. He informed me today he has decided to see what can
Dick Guion
be done about transferring him to a day shift again. He is losing weight due to lack of sleep, which is harder to get in summer day times, and the reflection of artificial light from the pieces he works on affects his eyes. He still spends most of his spare time at Stratford (where Jean Mortensen lives) in spite of the gas rationing restrictions.
Dave, for some time, has been hopeful of making the grade as President of his sophomore class, but finally lost out. 
He took his defeat in the sporting spirit. Lately he has been seeing a great deal of Natalie Slawson, at whose house he calls, whenever the parental discipline is a little off guard.
Aunt Betty manages to put in a pretty full day divided up between caring for her flowerbeds, darning socks, washing dishes, cleaning house, etc. She says she is not over doing things but I would rather she took it a little easier.
Biss and Butch
Elizabeth, due to gas rationing restrictions, won’t be able to use the car as much as formerly, so probably will not visit us as frequently.
The sewer drain, under the cellar stairs, sprung a leak and backed up in the cellar and I spent as much time as I could spare from dinner chores this morning and after dinner this afternoon, in digging up the ground to find where the break occurred and trying to fix it, with only partial success.
DAD
Tomorrow, i will begin a new weekend series but I haven’t decided what it will be. Tune in tomorrow and find out.
Judy Guion
Trumbull – Dear Tripartite (2) – Bits and Pieces of Trumbull News – May 17, 1942
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Sample Gas Rationing Card
Well, gas rationing days are over here. Dick, (Paul) Warden and I each obtained a ?-? card but Zeke could only get an A-3, so Elizabeth will not be visiting Trumbull so frequently as of yore.
Red (also known as Don Sirene) came home this weekend and informs me he was turned down by the Naval Reserves and the Marines, so he, too, will be in the Army. Charley Hall however, he says, made the grade, due presumably to his engineering training. Red’s roommate received some notice asking if you would like to work in Alaska, and immediately Red sent to the same source for a similar application.
“The Good Times” – 1939 Arnold Gibson (Gibby), Charlie Kurtz and Carl Wayne – The Red Horse Station
The Ives and Carl and Ethel (Wayne), are intending to take a trip up to the Adirondacks and get in some fishing. Carl has not decided whether he will try to keep the station going under all the new handicaps, or not.
No words of cheer to the old base last week from either of the three absent sons, so I am much in the position of the radio announcer who keeps on broadcasting without knowing whether his message is getting across to his audience or even whether he has an audience.
My business continues in the doldrums, some weeks the expense of doing business exceeding the income and some just enough over to make me feel it might be worthwhile to hang on until things take a turn for the better. I’ve just got enough tenacity of purpose in my makeup so I don’t easily give up, I guess.
Cora Beach died last week. Mrs. Burr Beach is now running the library. Jimmy Smith has been ill in the hospital but I understand is home again and better. Lad went down to see the New Rochelle relatives just before he left and reports all well.
Enclosed with this note, Ced, old dear, is a birthday card from Aunt Betty, which she asked me to address and send for her. Dick is over getting Dan’s car filled up with gas in the hope and expectation he might come back with Bar (Barbara Plumb, Dan’s girlfriend) who goes to visit him on the 22nd. Dick just finished and sent in his questionnaire last week and has now received a card to fill in as sort of an occupational guide to enable the Army authorities, I suppose, to fit him in where his experience and training would seem to promise best results. He spends about half his time in Stratford (where Jean Mortensen, his girlfriend, lives) these days, although from now on, the gas rationing may possibly cramp his style a bit.
Lilac Bush
This will probably be the last week for the lilacs but the iris are coming along nicely, and is also the grass, particularly after last night’s rain.
The news stream got down to a trickle in the last paragraph with a few drops left for this one and has now ceased entirely as I shall also, with the usual greetings (I shall forbear saying anything about writing soon, as being entirely superfluous). So with best wishes from the home folks, I shall sign off, as usual, from
DAD
Tomorrow and Thursday, Lad’s first letter to Grandpa, telling him of his experiences since saying good-bye to his Dad at the Derby Railroad Station. I’ll finish out the week with another letter from Grandpa to the three boys, all in service to Uncle Sam.
Judy Guion
Trumbull – Dear Tripartite (1) – Lad Joins The Army – May 17, 1942
Trumbull, Conn., May 17, 1942
Dear Tripartite:
Spring Bulletin No. 1 – Saw mosquito, sank same.
Yesterday afternoon, my entire remaining army of sappers and Miners (accent on the sap), being awol, I had the alternative of cutting grass or cleaning oil stove burner in the kitchen, and, as it seemed to be threatening rain, I selected the latter job which I finished and then lit the fire. About 10 o’clock it really started to rain, not a little sissy sprinkle but a steady business-like downpour, distinctly audible from where I sat in the kitchen listening to Raymond Grame Swing. The drumming beat of the raindrops continued, accompanied by gurglings as it rushed down the leaders, and to its obligato, I went off to dreamland, being rudely awakened at ten minutes to three by the sound of the Trumbull fire siren, accompanied, a few minutes later, by the arrival of the apparatus itself right in front of our house. Beams of light stabbed the rain and darkness, car after car arrived, smoke drifted in through the window, men shouted outside. My oil burner flashed into mind. Was this history repeating itself? A light appeared under Dave’s door. Light blasted out from Warden’s apartment. A crowd seemed gathering in front of the house all the way from Laufer’s to Pack’s. Dave and I peered out of the windows. There was a light also in the cottage, but Dave finally discerned a ladder up against Pack’s house, which solved the mystery. Apparently they got whatever fire there was under control quickly, and about half an hour later the neighborhood returned to its wonted quiet.
Alfred Peabody Guion (Lad)
Wednesday last, Lad woke me up a little before 5 A. M. and after a hasty breakfast we started off in my car for the w.k. rail road station in Derby, from which I saw my engineer son (Dan left in January, 1942, just 5 months earlier) off to the army camp. This time, however, there was much more of a crowd, the station yard being pretty well crowded with cars. I learned later there were about 80 men in all in the group. A voice said: “May I have your attention for a minute, please”, and then went on to announce that he was the leader of the local draft board, gave them a brief talk, introduced the mayor of Derby, an ex-service man himself, who also gave them a little pep talk. It was then announced that booklets will be distributed to each trainee, and to expedite delivery the two leaders who had been appointed were asked to assist. Mr. so-and-so and Mr. Gwo-yon were asked to step forward. I looked at Lad but he said it was not intended for him as he was not a leader. However, when the booklet was passed out with his name on it, the same pronunciation was given, and when later, Lad went into the station to get his ticket, the girl informed him he had been appointed a leader. His duties were to see that the men were properly entrained, etc. The only way I could figure it out was that probably, in going over Lad’s questionnaire, they noted that he had been in charge of a group of men in Venezuela and had also taken the police training course, both of which would qualify him for the job. As this seemed to indicate he would probably be busy and the absence of a father would relieve him of one additional burden, I said good-by as the train pulled into the station. I have not heard from him since, but the plan was for the boys to go to Hartford for their final physical exam, thence to Camp Devens and parts unknown. Lad did not sell his car. The Buick people would not give him even six hundred dollars for it so it now reposes in the barn awaiting more favorable days.
Tomorrow, I’ll finish this letter from Grandpa to Ced, Dan and Lad, all away from home now. Wednesday and Thursday, a letter from Lad to Grandpa with his version of his first weeks in the Army. I’ll finish the week with another letter from Grandpa to his boys away from home.
Judy Guion
Army Life – Hi There, Family – A Newsy Letter From Marian and Lad At Aberdeen, Maryland – November 15, 1945
Lad and Marian Guion
Thursday
11/15/45
Hi There ! Family —-
Back to the Army routine again — seems quite familiar, and no matter where we move the routine seems exactly the same.
We have a very nice room with private bath and separate entrance in an apartment building, more or less. By that I mean that there are about four apartments (ours is the only single room) all attached to the main house. Sounds peculiar but it isn’t. Dick, have you been doing any house building down this way on the Q.T.? We have a hallway and the bathroom that has that unmistakable R.P.G. touch. It goes like this:
My drawing doesn’t really do it justice. It’s much more of a booby-trap than it looks. I think the hallway is 2 ½ feet wide – it can’t be much more.
But we like it – however if we are going to be there much longer we are going to try to find an apartment, ‘cause eating all our meals out is much too expensive.
Lad is being transferred into a new company today so we’ll know a little more about our plans in a day or two. We heard that he would remain in this new holding company until the 50-point deal gets straightened out. Then he would get his discharge. But we will believe it only when we see it.
The Army picked yesterday (November 14th, their 2-year Anniversary) to give him an influenza shot, so he didn’t feel much like doing any celebrating. We went to a USO dance but came home early. But at least we were together, for as it worked out, he couldn’t have gotten a pass to come home –
I’ll write again when we know a little bit more — Love to all
Marian and Lad
Tomorrow and Sunday, more Summer Thoughts.
Judy Guion
Trumbull – Dear Dan And Dave (4) – A Morale Booster Shot – November 12, 1945
Page 4 11/11/45
Dear Dave:
Got your letter this week, old son, dated Nov. 1st and wish I could say something that would lift the morale a bit, but I guess it will take more than words to accomplish this. Only a trip home apparently would be the effective remedy for your trouble, although the fact remains that all the concentrated love and affection combined from all of us and our sympathy in your predicament and the fight we know you must be putting up to do your job right anyway, may help to let you know we are with you in spirit. Disappointments such as you are facing now do come to us all from time to time through life and the best way I have found to meet them is with a smiling face, hard as it may be to smile, and resolutely look at the pleasanter phases of the matter rather than let yourself dwell on the darker side and feel sorry for yourself. This is one of the times your character is being tested and how you meet the challenge this time successfully will make others that may come later easier to bear. I know this sounds a bit preachy but there is truth there nevertheless. I am going to try to see what I can do to start something here along the line of your suggestion but it would be far safer for you not to count on any favorable result from my effort. One of the things that will help, and for which I am glad, is that you are busy. I hope you will continue to be so because that will give you not much leisure to brood over your enforced stay in Manila. Bring up that sunny good nature and sense of humor you have in reserve. The sun always shines sooner or later, no matter how violent the storm. When you feel too low, count over the things you have to be thankful for (which incidentally, is a good Thanksgiving Day exercise) and you will conclude that things might be a lot worse at that. We want you and need you just as much as you want to come home but we are trying to carry on cheerfully and make the best of it and in the old Guion spirit, we expect you to do the same. Don’t let the Army or the Signal Corps down but keep on keeping on so that in the days to come you can look back on this time and say to yourself that in spite of everything that got even older men down, you “fought the good fight”. Of course it is quite obvious I am trying to give you a moral shot in the arm as it were, but just the same, I believe it all and know from my own experience it is true, trite though it may sound.
You have been so good about writing that I will understand if your job keeps you from sending home letters as frequently as in the past. Last week I mailed you a box with a few eatables in it, which I hope will reach you before Christmas. The camera situation is still bad. Ced has brought back with him a bunch of shots he took in Alaska, which we have not seen yet, but he says they are pretty good.
Well, it’s pretty near my bedtime (10:30) and I haven’t yet had any supper, so I’ll close with Happy Thanksgiving Day wishes to you.
DAD
Tomorrow a note from Marian as they re-enter military life.
On Saturday and Sunday, more Summer Thoughts.
Judy Guion
Trumbull – Dear Dan and Dave (3) – Packages For France – November 11, 1945
The Trumbull House after a very bad snow storm
"Greatest Generation" Life Lessons 
