On Leyte Beach, October 1944

This is a sketch that Ned included in a letter sent to his parents.  Part of that letter reads:

There they were, the Japs only a few miles away, the beach under fire, stating their wish to help us, also bumming food, cigarettes and clothes.  They were dressed in rags, hungry, homeless and dirty.  Mostly old men, women, and kids.  The soldier's height (6') in comparison to the natives seems a little big, but those people are pretty small.  As the people saw that we were not going to harm them, they went into the barter trade at high speed.  Their prices went from dirt cheap to exorbitant figures.  They must have made enough dough to settle back for life from the army and amphibs.


And here is a letter to Ned from his mother in reply:


The Murray
Sixty-six Park Avenue
New York


March 17, (I mean 15 -- I was thinking about your birthday)


Dearest Ned,


Two more perfectly swell letters came from you this morning, yes, and one yesterday morning with the sketch of you at battle station.  It was most interesting and something we have wanted to know for a long time.  Your sketches of the people on the beach at Leyte were also splendid.  Your photographic sense of lighting is a constant delight to Pappy and me.  And your pen and ink work is beautiful!  This is really how I feel about your work.


Your writing, too, shows constant improvement.  Yes, study your dictionary and watch your spelling in the small words.  That is your weak spot at the moment.  For instance the word existence you spell "existance".  Minor but important on the whole.  Your reading matter definitely. has been varied and excellent.  That you absorb and profit by what your read is evident.  Keep it up, Big Boy!  I like it.


Awfully good news about your ankle improvement.  Again I say thank you for keeping it under your hat.  It showed the sporting sense.  Congratulations!


John's hand must have been pretty badly mangled.  The word "convalescent" has not yet appeared on the hospital cards we get twice a month.  At present John has hospital blues and writes almost nothing.  He did say the horrible periods of glass eyes, bright red scar, red faces, etc. had driven him to drink -- countless cans of evaporated milk!


Letters come in with "nothing to write about" written on them.  Could kick myself for speaking of the current confusion at Jim's.  Dad really is a peach and swell with mother.  Her one fault is being too good natured and letting her daughter and spoiled little grand child impose on her.  She and Jim are alright when alone.


Daddy had copies of three of J's letters made which I shall send to you one at a time.


We still love you.  Be sure of that.


M.