Rosa – Winter

Letter Pages & Envelope

Notes:

By December 1954, Cpl. Richard Rosa finds himself in the final week of a training course, writing late at night while on fire guard duty. His letters reflect a shift from the restless monotony of summer into the disciplined fatigue of winter training, as he works hard, gives instructional talks, and looks forward to finishing simply to get some sleep. Despite the cold—temperatures dropping sharply with only light snow—his connection to home remains constant. He writes about hunting season, family routines, and the puppies waiting for him, while carefully directing how gifts he’s sent from Japan should be distributed. Mail continues to serve as a vital emotional link, with letters and unexpected packages lifting his spirits. As Christmas approaches, Rosa sends cards to nearly everyone he knows, apologizing for not writing more, and quietly expresses his hope that the holiday is a happy one back home—even as he prepares to make the best of it from afar.

Transcript

Dec 18, 1954
11:30 P.M.

Dear Mother & Dad,

Since got the time so I thought I’d write. Its 11:30 Saturday night and I’ve got fire guard. I have to stay awake until midnight, then the next guy takes over for an hour.

There still isn’t much to write about. I’m working pretty hard down here and boy, I can feel it. I’m glad we’ll be getting through so I can get some sleep. We are now in our last week here. Most of this week is student instruction. I gave my first talk yesterday morning, and it was better than I thought it would be. I got a 76 on it. On the first one they mark you way down, so as to give you room for improvement. I have my lesson plan for my next one just about finished. I have to touch it up a little, then study some more then give my class Monday.

Well I never finished this letter last night as the lights went out, so I’m doing it now. I’m on C.Q. now, and I’m just getting comfortable again. I came in the orderly room this morning at six o’clock and the stove was off and it was freezing in here. Lit the stove then a kid came and relieved me so I could go get chow. Just got back, and it wasn’t much of a breakfast. I have to stay in here until noon, so I’ll finish this letter then work on my talk.

I think I told you I finally got some mail, and I really got some. I can’t recall just how many I got but it was a real pile. I also got two packages. One from Aunt Mary the other one from a girl from Mechanicville. I really never thought of getting anything from her. Her folks have a store there so that was probably one reason why she sent it. She even sent this writing paper & envelopes, as if I need them. I’ve got a huge box full of writing paper back in the Btry.

In another three days I’ll be all through with this place. We are scheduled to graduate this Thursday morning. I should pass without much trouble. If I get good marks on the next two talks I’ll be all set. I have passed all the tests we have had so far, and only have three gigs. I wish my marks were a lot better than they made out. If I did that I’d make it before I leave here for home. But you know as well as I do that it doesn’t make any difference whether I go home a Pfc.

I finally received a letter from Sayfrid and boy, he really must have it made over there. He really rubbed it in talking about the nice posts, barracks, huts, with heaters, the showers. It’s just like riding a letter. I have to write him today I think because he has the money he owes me and doesn’t know my N. number.

I also received letters from Bobby Mullen, Uncle Nick, Bobby, Mrs. Eiser, and of course from you, Dad, Carol,

I haven’t received that letter about the hunting yet come, so I figure you didn’t get that buck this year. Well, Dad, we’ll try next year that’s all. Did any of the guys down the shop get one? At least you didn’t say you got a shot at that spiked horn. How’s the dogs doing on the rabbits? Have you taken them up at all yet? How’s Dwell coming along? I hope Momma doesn’t spoil him before he learns how to hunt. You should be teaching Pepper the tricks of any of them. But I guess that’s hard, as they say, to teach old dogs new tricks. Have you any pups left there now, or have you sold all of them?

Well, how’s everything there at home? I suppose your doing your last minute shopping. How does downtown look this year? Have they got it all lit up or not? How’s the weather there. I should think that you do have snow for Christmas. We have hardly none at all here.

It snowed last night, but not very much. By this afternoon it will be all gone. It is making up in coldness what it lacks in snow tho. A couple of mornings it was really bitter out. This morning is mild tho.

I’m glad to hear that you got those packages alright. I think you are only missing one package and that has another leather jacket and the silk pictures in a tube in it. Now on those silk pictures I want you to pick the best ones and keep them. The ones that aren’t so good you can give away. You can give one to Aunt Mary, Aunt Agnes, and one each to the Grandmas, when you get them. Also I told Uncle Nick that I got Beverly a little robe. I think the smallest one of the ones I sent you can give her. If I recall it should be, one of the two, of the small white ones with red trimming. The other is for Linda, unless Uncle Charlie still wants a small jacket for her. Aunt Mary never told me how much she wanted to spend on a doll, so I still haven’t got one for her.

I sent out all the Christmas cards you sent, and it took care of everybody to the T. I sent just about everybody one in my little address book. I couldn’t find time to write to anyone so I hope you will explain it to the grandmas, Uncle Nick, that I have received their letters. Also Aunt Mary for her package. I got her package at the right time too. I ran out of shaving cream and was going to get some at the PX that night, but I opened it and found a big can of lather.

Well, there isn’t anything else to write about so I’ll close for today. By the time you get this letter Christmas should be here. I hope it was a very nice one for everybody there at home. I’ll try and make it the same over here. I’ll write again as soon as I get the chance. Until then keep writing.

Your Son,
Dick

Letter Pages & Envelope

Notes:

Written in January 1955 from a snowy, mountainous post in Korea, this letter captures Corporal Richard Rosa’s mix of frustration and quiet adaptation to army life in the uneasy lull after the war. He describes strict movement restrictions that make the base feel “like a prison,” along with treacherous winter conditions that turn even short walks into careful, slippery journeys. Yet small improvements—like the installation of an oil stove—bring real comfort, and his routine fills with familiar rhythms: trips to the PX, letters home, haircuts, and the informal economies of cigarettes and local services. He chats about prices for electronics and pearls, asks after the weather and household updates back home, and even sends along instructions for using chopsticks, hinting at everyday cultural encounters. Beneath the complaints runs a steady current of connection and practicality, as he manages taxes, watches for mail, and looks ahead to the day he can leave military life behind and reclaim his independence.

Transcript

Jan. 19, 1955

Dear Mom and Dad,

I don’t know if I got any mail yet tonight or not because the mail hasn’t got in yet. It will be in a little late tonight. This place is like a prison. You can’t go out of the area unless the Colonel or Major signs the trip ticket. You might just as well be a prisoner here in this outfit. Supply is the only people allowed to go out of the area during the day without a Sgt. or higher along. I’ll be glad when I get out of here and the Army so they won’t have to tell me what to do and when to do it.

So how is the weather there? Have you still got all that snow? I take it it doesn’t go away overnight.

We got some real snow now, and I don’t think this will blow away or melt. It started last night and stopped about noon today. It looks like winter now. This morning I happened to look at the big mountain range in back of us and I could even see the tops of them, the snow was coming down so hard. Everything is slippery now, and it’s really been walking. We are situated on a hill, as you can see from the pictures. I walk a little ways and going from one place to another you have to be careful or you’ll be on the ground sooner than you know it. It isn’t as cold as Dad said when it snows that’s one good thing. It is fairly nice out tonight. I thought I had good luck.

Anyhow, we finally got our oil stove set up last week and it makes all the difference in the world. We have them on seven and it’s really hot in here. It’s better like this than having it cold in here. Tomorrow we have to change the 55 gal. barrel we have on the oil stove.

In one of your letters Dad asked me to find out how much a slide projector would cost. Well there is one in the PX now and they want $45 for it. It is an Argus automatic I think. Can you still get things from Mr. Calvo or has he stopped getting stuff wholesale?? If you still can get things from him why don’t you see how much he can get one for. Also I mentioned a tape recorder. It has two speeds and a two hour reel. Can he still get watches cheap?? I was going to buy a watch here the other day. I thought I’d wait and see if he still can or not.

They also have some nice cultured pearls. They are Japanese and go for around $30.00 to $45.00.

Right now I’m sitting at the table eating cookies and drinking orange juice.

I am sending my income tax return to you. I wasn’t sure how to make the return out and if I did it right the $27.50 will come back. We haven’t got any forms over here. I am also including an article on how to use chop sticks!

I got a haircut today. We have a Korean cutting hair now and he does a better job than the kid we had. I can keep it like it is now. It won’t look too bad for awhile. The haircuts I was getting were bad. I didn’t care as I figured it would grow in before I rotated. I’d like to have the sides longer but I can’t. Right now it looks like I had it when I was home last.

Have you got the dryer hooked up yet? That will be alright once Mom starts using it. It would be nice if you could fix up the cellar up so that Mom could do all her work down there. The only real thing that is in the way down there is the furnace.

In one of your letters you mentioned that you visited the Dominicks and said Mrs. Antonetti sent me a money order. So far as I know I never got one from her. The only one I got was from Aunt Flo.

Well I think I’ve written all I can for tonight. It is 10:30 already and I’m tired. I came back from chow and layed down and what do you think happened, yes I fell asleep. I didn’t wake up until 7:30. I went down to the PX and wasted some time there. There isn’t much that I have to do. I bought cigarettes for one of the Koreans that gets my clothes washed. They sell them on the black market and get twice as much for them. I do get my clothes all back pretty fast so I can’t complain too much.

Well I’ll write tomorrow night if I can. Write soon.

With Love,
Dick

Letter Pages & Envelope

Notes:

By late January 1955, Rosa’s letters carry a quieter, in-between feeling—less strained than February, but no longer carrying the energy of earlier months. This one opens with a small disappointment that says everything: no mail. He checks, finds nothing, and simply decides to wait another day, a reminder of how central those letters from home have become to his routine. There’s a brief lift when he mentions receiving a package—corned beef sent from home—but otherwise the tone stays subdued. He notes the weather with cautious optimism, enjoying a stretch of milder conditions while already bracing for the cold to return, and looks ahead to spring and, more importantly, April, when he expects to leave. There’s also a subtle unease creeping in—his friend Danny is about to leave, and Rosa realizes he may soon be on his own in a role he doesn’t fully understand, admitting he doesn’t “know the first thing about supply.” Even the small details—tuna and crackers for a late snack, complaints about chow, feeling “always tired”—build a picture of routine wearing him down. It’s a transitional letter: not yet as heavy as what follows in February, but clearly moving in that direction, as he counts time, adjusts to change, and keeps his focus fixed on getting home.

Transcript

Jan. 24, 1955

Dear Mother and Dad,

I went to the movie earlier tonight, but I had already seen it. So I went down to the mail room to see if there was any mail and I found out that there was no mail at all for D. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow then for your letters. Oh yes, I did get the corned beef you sent. It came in this afternoon. Funny I did not pick it up until I went down tonight.

Well, how is everything there at home? I hope everybody is still in the best of health. Is the weather still cold there? We are having some nice weather for some reason. I hope it doesn’t decide to turn real cold after this. I’ll be glad when spring starts to roll around. I’m waiting so much for April to get here. Danny, the kid in supply, will be leaving the day after tomorrow and I’ll be left alone. I don’t know what I’m going to do! I don’t know the first thing about supply and I’m stuck with it.

As you can guess, there isn’t a thing to write about tonight. I just thought I’d write a few lines before going to bed. It seems like I’m always tired now. I just took a break to eat some tuna & crackers with the rest of the boys. The chow here is still as bad as ever in the messhall. They have stew too much for me. It would be nice when I can eat what I want.

There isn’t anything else to write tonight so I’ll close for now. I’ll look forward to getting a letter from you tomorrow.

With Love to all,
Your Son,
Dick

Letter Pages & Envelope

Notes:

By February 1955, Rosa’s tone has shifted again—quieter, more fatigued, and edged with impatience. Stationed on gate duty, his routine now revolves around broken sleep, early mornings, and long, cold hours in the snow. The weather dominates the landscape, with steady snowfall and deepening cold mirroring his mood. Unlike earlier letters filled with small curiosities and observations, this one feels stripped down—focused on waiting, counting time, and enduring. He asks about home as always—weather, family, the dogs—but the questions feel more like anchors than conversation. There’s a growing restlessness beneath the surface, especially as he mentions how slowly the days are passing and how “miserable” things have become. His reference to “the 40” suggests a mental countdown—something he’s holding onto as a way through. It’s a letter from a soldier nearing the end of his time, worn by routine, weather, and distance, quietly looking toward the finish line.

Transcript

Feb. 19, 1955

Dear Mom and Dad,

I thought I’d write a couple of pages before going on the gate. There isn’t anything to write about really. It started to snow last night and turned to snow early this morning. We have quite a bit of snow now but it hasn’t stopped yet. It will probably snow all night from the looks of things. How is the weather at home, still cold? Is the snow all gone yet?

I got a letter from Jackle Nick this afternoon. I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to write him. I’m not getting very much sleep now that I’m on the gate. It wouldn’t be too bad if I didn’t have to get up at six in the morning and relieve the guy, so he can go eat.

I got a couple of papers last night. I’ve been meaning to tell you to stop the Star, but I keep forgetting it. They don’t seem to get here too regular. There’s no sense in paying for another month. So, when you get this letter, call and stop it. It’s too early for the mail tonight. I’ll have to pick it up before I go on gate. It will probably be late because of the snow too.

Have you heard from the old folks. Uncle Nick said they were all in the best of health. If I ever get a chance I’ll write them a letter. Are the dogs still hunting good or haven’t you taken them out? If you had snow, it is probably too deep for them.

The days are slowly going by. It comes to the 40 much faster. I’ll be glad when this month is over. This place is getting miserable now. I wish there was a way to get away from here for about a month.

Well, I think this is all for tonight. I’ll try to keep writing every day if possible. Until then—

Your Son,
Dick