DIY History | Transcribe | World War II Diaries and Letters | Joseph E. Evans letters, 1935-1954 | 1943-12-06 Joseph Evans to Mary Evans Page 1

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Joseph E. Evans letters, 1935-1954

1943-12-06 Joseph Evans to Mary Evans Page 1

Santa Monica Del Mar Club
Santa Monica, California
BOARD OF DIRECTORS
Hernando Courtright, President
Victor Ford Collins
Earl W. Huntley
Willard W. Keith
Fred Metzler
Neil Petree
6 December 1943
Dear Mary Ellen - 
I'm pretty groggy - haven't been to bed for the past 39 hours - so I don't know how coherent this will be. At the moment I am sergeant of the guard for the Del Mar, which is is in that uncomfortable stage of changing from civilian to military uses. I have been on guard (six-hour shifts) practically since my arrival Friday night, and will continue to be until they set up a public relation office - or perhaps I will continue as a guard as long as I am here; I don't know, and I really care very little.
Of all the places I didn't want to get sent to, it was Los Angeles; and it happened just as I was about to ask Rees to get me transferred to Washington or Mitchel Field - and then with 24 hours' notice. Eh bien, c'est la guerre. Now I don't know what to do, so I'm going to vegetate a while - or, I should say, a while longer. Anyway, I had a good time in New Orleans - a full day to wander about in - inspecting the St. Louis cathedral (1794), the [Cabiedo?] with its cell in which Jean La Fitte was at various times incarcerated, the [presbytere?] of the Capuchin monastery, and the French quarter in general - terribly pseudo, I suppose, but fun: the glimpses one gets through doorways or fantastically beautiful sun-bathed courtyards - the things people always say about New Orleans. At El Roso we stopped long enough that we could easily have gone

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Santa Monica Del Mar Club Santa Monica, California BOARD OF DIRECTORS Hernando Courtright, President Victor Ford Collins Earl W. Huntley Willard W. Keith Fred Metzler Neil Petree 6 December 1943 Dear Mary Ellen - I'm pretty groggy - haven't been to bed for the past 39 hours - so I don't know how coherent this will be. At the moment I am sergeant of the guard for the Del Mar, which is is in that uncomfortable stage of changing from civilian to military uses. I have been on guard (six-hour shifts) practically since my arrival Friday night, and will continue to be until they set up a public relation office - or perhaps I will continue as a guard as long as I am here; I don't know, and I really care very little. Of all the places I didn't want to get sent to, it was Los Angeles; and it happened just as I was about to ask Rees to get me transferred to Washington or Mitchel Field - and then with 24 hours' notice. Eh bien, c'est la guerre. Now I don't know what to do, so I'm going to vegetate a while - or, I should say, a while longer. Anyway, I had a good time in New Orleans - a full day to wander about in - inspecting the St. Louis cathedral (1794), the [Cabiedo?] with its cell in which Jean La Fitte was at various times incarcerated, the [presbytere?] of the Capuchin monastery, and the French quarter in general - terribly pseudo, I suppose, but fun: the glimpses one gets through doorways or fantastically beautiful sun-bathed courtyards - the things people always say about New Orleans. At El Roso we stopped long enough that we could easily have gone