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"Dear Dorothy, I’m okay and hope to remain so; though I expect I’ll see some pretty rough days. Gee, but I get the lonesomest feeling at times when I think of you, the baby, and home. But this war will be over in the not too distant future. Don’t worry about me, for as I said before, I feel I’ll get back to you someday. Oceans of love, Melvin."
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"Dear Dad, The future is very unpredictable; Battalions of men are shipped out of this camp every short while for overseas. Haven’t told Dorothy everything; only a few rather general ideas. That’s the hardest part of it.
However, the training here is splendid. They give you everything from jiu-jitsu to simulated battle conditions. We fire the following weapons: The Garand Rifle, the Browning Automatic Rifle, the Carbine, the light machine gun, the 60 mm mortar. Learn to take the weapon apart and put it together again. Also have worked with the hand grenade, the rifle grenade, and the bayonet. We hike by the hour with full equipment, go on night patrols and infiltration tactics, run obstacle courses, assault courses, take calisthenics, practice hand-to-hand combat. … You probably would notice some changes in me now.
Your son, Melvin."
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"October 26, 1944. Dearest Dorothy, Your letters have been coming regularly. That last picture of the child was wonderful. Words are inadequate to tell you how much I think of Elaine, the little darling.... We’ve earned a rest. Don’t know how long we’ll be here. But it’s wonderful to eat regular hot-cooked meals again and to sleep warm and dry at night. One day at dinner, I ate 5 large hamburger steaks, besides potatoes, gravy, bread. That morning had 5 pancakes for breakfast, plus other things! Can't seem to get enough to eat! Did I tell you how beautiful you are? Love, Melvin."
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"November 2, 1944. Dearest Melvin, it has been ten days since I received your last letter. It seems so long ago. I’m anxious, of course.
I’ve been quite busy this week - this being the first of the month. We have tests in shorthand about every day; so I have to work. The best I’ve netted in typing is 60 words a minute. That isn’t usual, though. Elaine tries to sing snatches of “Swing upon a Star.” She says practically everything. Last night she said, 'Pooch bark outside,' and he certainly was. She says 'O.K.' and 'Oh, Boy!' Oh, yes, my T.B. shot was negative. Maybe you’ll get a part of your Xmas boxes about Thanksgiving. You should have a good Xmas, as far as boxes are concerned. I'm rather concerned about you. Love, Dorothy and your daughter, Elaine."
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"November 5, 1944. Dearest Dorothy, enclosed is the money order for $45.00 I mentioned before. This will reach you, no doubt, before the other amounts will. I’m still all right. Not much news that I can tell you. By the way, how does our savings stack up by this time? I sure miss you. Did I tell you I heard Bing Crosby (in person) sing 'White Christmas?' That was quite some time ago. During one of our brief rest periods. Nobody can sing that song like him! Say a prayer for me and I’ll be seeing you. Love, Melvin"
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"December 1, 1944. My Darling Melvin, the message came last night. I feel stunned although I’ve been living in fear of such a thing. My great hope is that you aren’t suffering. I know you have been through hell. I told you before, that no matter what might happen, I want you back. You must put forth every effort toward a recovery. No matter what the nature of your wounds - I will endeavor to adjust my life to your needs, and give you all the happiness I can.
This morning as I was leaving our bedroom, I glanced at our daughter. She had her fingers over her eyes and was playing 'Possum.' Finally one little mischievous eye popped out, and she gave me the sweetest smile. Oh, she is a most affectionate child!
Melvin, I know you are getting the best of care. I have great hopes of your returning to me soon. If you are to remain at a hospital, Elaine and I can come to see you, and that will help us all. I love you very much; so do your best for us. I am always thinking of you. Love Dorothy and Elaine."
This final letter was returned - Melvin Johnson had already passed away from his wounds on November 18, 1944.
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