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Sunday P. M.
Here it is Sunday and we have been busy all day. Didn't see you in church as I promised for I had to take another test. They called out all men with any college training to take a general test for Raitar or some such name. The initials of certain words go to make up the name. There were 500 to begin with and they eliminated all but 70 in the first test. I got to stay on and then the 70 of us took two more tests pertaining to math and physics and I believe I did O. K. 40 are selected to take further special training. They give a months review of math and physics here and then one goes as a P. F. C. to Logan Utah for 6 mo. technical training at the Ag. school. The Sarge said only about 5% failed and that being due to diversion (namely women). In this you learn to operate and repair somekind of secret detector machine that directs artillary fire and costs $300,000 per each. If lucky enough to get thru this, you come out a master sarge. Keep your fingers crossed or don't you want me to get so close to those beautiful Utah college women.
Didn't get back until chow time and this P. M. had to stamp blankets, pails and sweat shirts, wash our dungarees as I had no time to do so yesterday. Just stopped long enough to go to the Corporal to recite or illustrate the hand signals in combat. Then, too, I had to shave as I nearly had a 5:00 o'clock blackout.
Sent the Chevron to Cec & Tete which may have the lad's name in that they spoke of. Please tell them to read the paratroop piece over carefully.
Can't figure where all the time goes as it is nearly chow time again, and that _ _ _ _ _ _ bugle is always piping up in the middle of the night. I'd love to kill the bugler or someone behind the general idea. Have to sand the mess kit again to scour it free from scum. Must say son long, Mills, and don't fall off any nags.