December 29, 1943

Dear Mom-

That letter I sent yesterday was so short that I’ll add this one to complete it partly.

There’s a parade today, we get another shot, and we pack to leave for the range so daylight hours as you can see are filled with activity. There’ll be little time to even read mail on the range I’m told. Its still raining and damp around here and nothing like what it should be. You must be catching it in Cleveland with all that snow and cold. That big washing I told you about is folded away in my locker box still wet after 3 days because we don’t have an opportunity to hang it up long enough to dry. On the range we eat out of field equipment (mess gear) they call it. Everything we have we transfer from the locker box to the sea bag. Packing a sea bag is an art in itself. Anything you want is always in the bottom and the whole thing has to be dumped out on the floor to find it, then repacked. Its funny to so when you are given 10 minutes. Each day we get more stuff and I’ll have a mountain of it when I get home. Fortunately the rest is shipped in a sea bag to the next station.

Interruption for a few minutes.

I’m back again, and somebody told me we get a test for Private 1^st Class in 5 minutes. That’s the MC for you. If I make it alright, if I don’t alright, to hell with it. That’s my way. Well Mom I’ll shove off now, so write when you can and take care of yourself so you can work your fingers to the bone for me when I get home in Feb. Thanks for taking care of that picture for me.

Love,

Bun.