Jan. 9, 1943

Dear Mom-

It’s just daybreak when I write this and for the last hour I’ve been laying on the barracks floor snapping in (a form of practice) with my rifle. Day before yesterday I hit 4 straight bulls’ eyes at 500 yards out of 4 shots. Damn nice shooting. I wrote to Frank, Henry, and Schager last night. Nally sent me a letter to and I answered it immediately in 3 weeks and 5 days we should be getting off this damn island, if it rains here much more, it should float back to the United States. I’m half enjoying it now that we’re on the rifle range. Rest of these guys have a healthy respect for my shooting. I’ve stayed out of trouble so far which is lucky for me. There’s one thing I’m doing I should stop though, that is smoking like a fiend. Nights when we’re in barracks, there’s nothing else to do and since we’re confined to this immediate area the majority of time. Something must be wrong, Henry don’t answer wonder what it is. You managed to twist my statements about having a good time, when I get back, the wrong way I’ll have one hell of a time naturally because it looks like it will be my last on this side. You see they have to give me this furlough, any other furlough is given at the C.O.’s discretion and they don’t hand them out for at least a year after the previous one. I won’t be on this side that long—that’s definite. Don’t whatever you do judge the Marine Crops by what the army does. They are as different as night and day. But don’t worry about anything. I have to figure out some way to press my clothes before I leave here, we have to look decent when we go and they get crummy on these dirty troop trips. I’m not as clean as I used to keep myself around the house, but our last week here will be devoted to doing very little so I’ll have time to take 2 or 3 showers a day for a week. That ought to be enough to make me sparkle. Glad I still have that suitcase to lug stuff around in it certainly will come in handy. Do you have yourself a car yet? I strongly advise that you do as soon as possible. Take care of yourself and stop that damn worrying about me when I’m here, home, or anyplace else it does us both a lot of harm. It’s me that will suffer the consequences of my actions and you should be disinterested in them. Get it through your head that I’m not a civilian any more and that I belong to Uncle Sam. Let him do the worrying. That is said with express intent to make it easy for you, not to make you feel badly. Remember these are not normal times. You don’t realize as I do now how bad this is—few civilians do. Take it easy though and watch your health. Tell Mollie I said hello and remember what I write you is strictly confidential and not to be talked about with Frank, Pearl, Mame, or anybody else.

Love, Bun