A Basic Private in the Infantry

August 12, 1942

Another day finished. The weather was better today. It only rained five or six times. The problem was easier for us because my company was in reserve all day. But when you haven’t much to do your mind works too hard. Mine seems to be working overtime continually. I wonder at my plight. Why am I a basic private in the infantry? All my friends have made something of themselves. All but me. Can there be something wrong with me? Did Dad spend several thousand dollars to put me through school for nothing? Does my B.S. degree mean nothing? At home I was at least something. Here I’m the lowest of the low. Why? I don’t think I’m dull or stupid. Some of us have talked about it, among ourselves. We know we’re in a bad spot. Thrown into a National Guard outfit in which everything is cut and dried. It’s useless to try to get ahead. you haven’t a chance. If you weren’t fortunate enough to have been born in a certain town in a certain state, you’re licked. 

Two letters from Jane today and one from Mother. My God, how I love and miss them. I answered Jane’s letter and must write Mother soon.

Just ducked out the back of the test ‘case they come around looking for a water detail. All well. 

To bed.