Dec. 31, 1943

Dear Mom,

Tonight, tomorrow, and Sunday is ours so it’s time for letter writing to you. It’s a pleasure to have time to yourself around here. When I tell you this it’s actual truth, we don’t have any way to answer natures calls for a regular day at the range. It runs full blast from day light when it’s light enough to shoot until dark so you can see how it is. You won’t hear from me much in the next 10 days since I’m concentrating on rifle shooting 100%. It will help me a lot because the Marines are shooting fools. Lots of the boys shove off to the P.X. every night to load themselves with Coca Cola Candy etc. but so far I haven’t been inside one yet. The strongest thing I’ve had so far is coffee and I remain perfectly satisfied. I seen an old timer with service stripes a yard long (he probably has 20 years in) stagger down Wake Boulevard to day and he carried an awful load. All these streets are named after countries the Corps fought in, Tripoli Street, Avenue De France, Guatemala, Honduras, etc. Seeing that tonight is New Years Eve the town will be wild and wily. This is going to be the greatest one I put in for a long time. I keep all your letters and throw the rest away because living out of a sea bag don’t permit keeping anything extra.

Our new barracks on the range are dirtier than the ones we left and as a home it don’t meet standards of any kind. This bunch will be coming in a week even though they try to keep clean. It’s fast and furious in everyway.

I turned in a slip telling where I’m going on furlough, so it’s not necessary to tell you where that is. I got rid of that silly kid when we changed barracks and now my bunk mate is Hank Dryling, a ex-fighter from Cleveland and a good kid. He’s efficient. When I’m not around he does my work, and vice versa. Over here it’s to hell with the guy next to you, over there it’s different.

I miss you lots but the prospect of a furlough in another month or so brightens up things a lot. I’ll bet you’re sorry now for all that hell you used to hand me, or are you? What’s the difference now anyway?

I passed a swimming test last night so up to date they can’t pick on me on any form except stupidity.

Those that didn’t pass are off being taught how and the rest are writing to their mothers, girls, friends and so forth. The lighting is bad here and I’m writing fast so that explains the legibility, it isn’t booze.

To-morrow just for the fun of it I’ll write you again, and maybe the next day, then I’ll have to stop for a while. I know you wait for my letters, every mother does and I wait for yours with equal anxiety. Too bad I can’t write something more interesting to read but this is all I know. I’ll obliterate everything connected with it when I get home so I can have a good time with you and friends around the neighborhood.

Let me know if my clothes have arrived, and also if your money comes in regularly. If you ever saw a bunch of boys in a hell of a hurry to get out of here, you should see them now. They’re just chomping at the bit. Frank sent me 2 more letters which come in handy and says he thinks Viola thinks you are the nuts. People sure like you, there must be something nice about you after all. Strange that in all the years I couldn’t find it. More foolishness. I don’t know whether I’ve gained or lost weight since scales are in the P.X. and I haven’t been in them yet. Now I have 22 bucks and 1 more pay coming. Probably will have to touch you for train fare, garrison cap and medals, before I leave here. Those things are not issued, especially the cap. I look like hell in the cap I wear now and will need the other to go home with. Medals I expect to win on the range and then buy when I qualify. Somebody just offered me some milk and I just refused it - now I thought the smartest thing is to take everything you can get here. I steal all kinds of small articles, safety pins, gun grease, stationary etc. It’s expected you don’t steal things here, you find them after you loose them. It’s a game. For a week I stole the wash bucket of the kid in the next bunk, the following week he stole it from me every day, so you see how we play.

I wear out these pencils to fast so I borrowed a pen. My hair is starting to grow back after being trimmed a week ago. It cost me 25 cents which is all the money I spent here yet.

These sea bags look like potato sacks and are made of heavy canvas with a lock on them. Gradually they are driving me nuts. Everything is crushed out of shape and gets dirty. Hope we have locker boxes at New River. This is the same as the Navy in that respect. We live like sailors and fight like soldiers. I’m glad I’m not in the Navy anyway.

Now we go to shows every day to see pictures on proper handling of firearms and also restricted pictures about what causes war etc. They’re interesting for a while then they become boring.

It pleases me to hear you had a pleasant X-mas. That part about you putting my picture where usually I sit was touching (I mean it), but don’t it serve as an unnecessary reminder. The star in the window could be used to cover a spot you neglected to wash. Otherwise it signifies nothing. Do as you wish though it pleases me when you’re contented.

I hear a measles epidemic followed that flu you had home. Cleveland is catching hell these days isn’t it? Be sure to take proper precautions for you and Mollies welfare and I’ll come out of here better off than any other way.

Should Tom come back repentant and remorseful give him the biggest fish you can get as a present from me. Try and sell the car soon as you can because its value is less everyday it sits there. You won’t get much but take it anyway. Say hello to Mollie Millers, Schogers, Pearl, Mrs. Snyder, etc. because they all like you and me (a little). One of these days Charlie Miller should be grabbed. Bob Schloz told me they got him too. Well I’ll shove off now and in case I miss writing you for a while you’ll know I’m “on the ball.”