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Dear Gene:

The Sabbath has rolled around again and Don didn't keep his promise. Didn't see you in church as I promised. It is a long hike and I didn't feel up to marching over to the main camp. I've decided you can't have religion and then kill Japs, so I shall concentrate on the latter and more important of the two.

Wrote a long letter to the folks last night as time was at a standstill There are so many things I think of to write about but my memory seems to fail me when I get the pencil in hand. I realize these notes are becoming like our grub -- tasting alike. Tell me what you would like to hear about.

Used my last 3 stamp to send you the "Leathernecks" which may interest you. This happens to be the anniversary week of this group, having been organized in 1775. That's a lot of fighting in the last few years. The marines have to be out of another world to withstand boot camp. The bunks are just like I expected -- damned uncomfortable. Then, too, it became cold here last night and you wake up chilled. Tonight I'm due to wear my socks to bed. Also I think I will revert to weekly baths for the water is cold.

The more I think about technical training the more undecided I am. That takes so darned long to complete that I perhaps would lose a chance to get across. I have my eye on a line company for yours truly would actually like to see some hand to hand scraps and really be in on the kill. On the other hand such training may be of great value in later life when the second great depression hits us in the teeth. Damnit all, Gene, I'm a little scared of that one.

Anyway it's much more pleasant to think of a fishing trip with you. That is if you think you could stand a trip to the wilds with a Bohunk guide. I intend to save some dough for somekind of an outing and I can think of no one nicer than yourself to take along.

I often wonder how the dogs are getting along at home. The coon hunting season will open the 10th and I would enjoy being there for the event. You truly be a widow for a while if you were married to me at hunting season. The pheasant hunting takes over on the 12th and they do make a tasty morsel as you will perhaps recall.

Shined my shoes this morning and forgot half of one shoe. It makes no difference anyway for as so as you go out into the dirt the polish disappears. It's a crime, too, to have to wear greens in such a place. They sure will look like hell when we do get some liberties.

Got a Sunday paper this P. M. and was pleasantly surprised to find Iowa trimmed Wisconsin 6 - 0. Saw Cornell skinned Monmouth. Jack has been playing good ball at full for the frosh and Walt, as usual, is carrying on their H-- tradition for the varsity. The folks sent some clippings and the boys are doing right well.

The time draws near for noon chow. Hope we can see to eat for there was one sweet fog this morning. Had flap jacks but it should have been spelled flop.

Hope this finds you in good health and the best of spirits. Will can the gab until the morrow.

E-mail: shelly@cat-sidh.net