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In 1943 I was drafted into World War 11 right out of Madison High School, Rochester, NY. This is my story as told in the letters I wrote home. They’re all here, all 192 of them. Spend some time with me as I describe my experiences in basic training and then off to war. They were written in an attempt to help me feel close to my family and to let them know what was going on in my life. It’s the first time I was away from home and I have to confess that I was homesick. My folks were Esther and Jacob Kaplow. We were four children in this order: Arnette, Ruth, Bob, and myself.

Gas Chamber

In 1994  Senator John D. Rockefeller issued a report revealing that for at least 50 years the Department of Defense had used hundreds of thousands of military personnel in human experiments and for intentional exposure to dangerous substances, including mustard gas.  Little did WW11 soldiers know the danger they were exposed to while in their Stateside camps.

Coming from a northern climate, Ben is having difficulty adjusting to the weather in the South.  He writes that, “we’re going thru the gas chamber tomorrow.”  And in a subsequent letter, he will describe the gas chamber experience and the lecture that followed while sitting in the hot sun.

July 17, 1943
Camp Croft
Friday nite

Dear Folks,
Here I sit, on my bed, smoking my pipe & listening to Spotlight Bands & shooting the bull at the same time with the fellows.  Almost like home but not quite.  Had quite an easy day today, a lot of lectures on various subjects & also close order drill with the whole company (about 200 men) in the broiling sun, & I do mean broiling especially in the middle ranks where no air penetrated.  And at the lectures the air makes us so sleepy that we can hardly keep awake.  We get put on detail if they catch us, but so far I haven’t been caught yet, although I’ve caught myself dozing.
   
Well, it’s almost the end of my second week of basic training & I don’t seem to mind it as much.  Maybe that’s because it hasn’t been as tough this week.  I think we’re going thru the gas chamber tomorrow & on a 3 mile hike next week.  I don’t know if I’m going into town this week or not.  My two Sun Tan uniforms are in the laundry & my other one is 2” long.  If I can baste it up inside the cuff, I might go.  Although I should stay in Sunday & catch up on correspondence & sleep.  I haven’t noticed any loss in waist line.  Perhaps that’s because whenever I get the chance, I go to the P.X. & gorge.  Also couple of fellows got cakes, cookies, candy, etc.  So as a result I’ve still got my weight.  Well, it finally happened.  So you’re closing on Sunday from 2 on.  I never would have believed it.

I finally had to move down to the latrine because lights went out.  There’s the usual bunch taking showers, washing & defecating.  Say, what’s that you say about me getting up at 5:30.  Don’t be so good to me.  Here’s the schedule.  Up at 5:00 - make bed, sweep, dust, & wash, fall out for reveille, go back in & finish up work.  Fall out to police up grounds.  Breakfast at 6:00.  Go out to drill area between 6:30 & 7:00.  Work until 1:15 when we have orientation in Barracks - then mail call & then chow.  About 12:30 - out again until 4:30 (a rest period for 10 minutes every hour.  It sure comes in handy.)  Then take a brief (very) shower, change to Sun Tans & fall out for retreat at 5:15.  Then supper at 6:00 & if we have no detail & after we clean rifle, shoes, etc., we have the nite off. (I was a human lawnmower tonite.)
   
So, Mr. Stiles spilled the beans, huh?  Well, to tell the truth, this was the first year I ever skipped & only about 3 or 4 times anyway.  It was mainly during the winter when we were afraid to be late because the bus was late.  Keep up the good work with the U.S.O. Ruth.  I never used to think much about it, but since last Sunday, I think it’s one of the best things for a service man away from home.  Even if I haven’t gone to a dance yet, it was a comfort to walk in, listen to radio, play games, rest, & eat.  I really appreciated it.  The fellows are saying now that A.S.T.P. men have to sign up for 5 years after the war.  If that’s true, I’m not going to be an A.S.T.P. man.
   
I wonder how long Uncle Louie & Sam & Dad would love to have a farm if they had to work it.  Answer me that, will you. Don’t forget to send those slippers, also siscors (excuse spelling).  Well, I’m getting tired, so until next time,

Love, 
Ben

P.S.  There are about 6 Jewish boys in my barracks & plenty in camp.  The reason they rush us so is so that we won’t have time to get homesick.  It works.

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