December 9, 1940

Francis Poltrack wrote this letter when he was in the Marine Corps, stationed at Paris Island, South Carolina. He had just learned that he was to be sent to Guantanamo Cuba and would not be able to be home for Christmas. The letter was sent to his brother Ed Poltrack who was in flight training in Illinois. It is an account of a road trip that involved some “screwball driving” and an encounter in a red-light district. The scanned letter is difficult to read because the pages are not sequential. The transcription is much more accessible.

Transcription

Dec, 9, 1940

Dear Ed,

	So here I am. There you are. And he family is home. It’s a sad world. It's a sad world. On Dec. 16, 1940 we leave for Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. There’s nothing left to say, is there? Nothing to say except that it’s a filthy, rotten, shiny, stinky, putrid trick. Afterthought - It’s a dirty trick too. It wouldn’t be so bad if we hadn't expected a leave but we were all looking forward to Xmas leave. If you get home do our darndest to make Xmas a Joy, delightful for mom n pop.

 My romantic roommate decided that he wanted or rather had to see his girlfriend's mother who lived in Gainesville, Florida. A distance of 300 some odd (or odd for some) miles. So we went. I don’t know why I did it but he said he was going to New York A.W.O.L and I thought I might be able to stop him. I ended up approving of his going after I met her wonderful mother. For him an added incentive was the fact that his father was very sick. It was announced previously that no leaves would be given. His punishment will be a week to four month in the brig plus a restriction on all liberties for quite some time. Also no pay. Anyway we set out about 1:00 PM for Florida - (I had 2 bucks and $6 money order). We waited a couple of hours for a bus to get off the island. When we finally got on it ran out of gas after about 200 yards of driving. It was a broken down battle-axe called the Bonnie Kate. When we started for Gainesville (noted for Florida Varsity - very beautiful [illegible]) it was about 5 or 6 o’clock. We stood on the bus all the way to Savannah. From there on to Jacksonville it was okay. Well, there we were in Jacksonville with naught but 50 cents each in our pockets. Gainesville - 80 miles -> After walking around & around a few circles (sounds screwy) a fellow (drunk) offered to give us a life to the main highway whence we could hitch.

After a moment of screwball driving we landed in a den of prostitution. A red-light district which really had all the atmosphere of a village of lost souls. And there we were, waiting in the parlor with 50 cents each in our pockets waiting for the inebriate. (We ended by walking out). Anyway this [illegible] or [illegible] comes up to me and sneers confidential like? “Go Upstairs?”. I says “whuh” means no, honest, I’m broke. Well she plops down on my lap anyway. By that time I feel a nervous twitching come over me so we take off.  We received  short ride from a guy who thought we were police. After that we were picked up by an ex-marine truck driver. A car also stopped - we merely chose the more practical ride. The marine went 20 miles out of his way to get us to our destination. Well, to cut a long story short we finally reached the woman’s home who’d  immediately [signed?] some grapes. The woman’s husband was a foreman over 734 men and they were pretty well off. Her son who makes $75 a week is 18 yrs. old.  I met another woman though [?] who served as a Red Cross nurse in World War I.

She had a nephew who graduated from Annapolis. She served in the Canadian Regiment. Well maybe it was because she was Canadian. The trip back was uneventful. My friend & I parted in Jacksonville, Fla. I got stuck in Yemassee, S.C. but [?] my Sergeant [?] and after he bought me a coke was safely trundled home.
We came across a terrific accident but a bit too late as the victim had already been taken to the hospital. I “seen” lots of pretty women but they only accentuated my loneliness & desire for feminine companionship.  The most beautiful girl of them, I saw on Paris Island. She looked at me & I looked at her and we both looked at each other. It was very sad. I have lots of fun “you-alling” everybody i.e. “southern jive”.

Well, we’ll play the game thriving and not be sentimental - in other words

Merry Christmas and that’s all there is to it

Private Fran