September 25, 1945

Dear Mom,

            Your September 18 letter came yesterday.

            I am glad to hear you’ve had such good luck with the garden- gosh- I wish I could be there to help you harvest and eat it all. Here’s the latest on my coming home – it’ll be next year - probably March and probably no later than April or May. The official date is between January 1st, and June 30th for men who leave 45 to 59 points – I have 53 – just about half way between. If I had 7 more, numbering 60 – I could go home before Christmas. But, it’ll be late winter – I’m quite sure. Be seeing you then.

            As for my Christmas packages, you had better send them here – maybe I’ll see my third Christmas here after all. The only way to be in the Army of Occupation are those with 44 points or less – V J Day. But, that doesn’t mean they won’t send some fellows like me over there for 3-6 months. I don’t much care, though I’d like to see Germany – especially when I know it would only be for a few months. As for my work in the Army being essential – or my training well – any dumb Germany prisoner of war cold do the same – just one each man-power. But, I don’t quite relish the idea of seeing the winter in a tent in Germany. Some fellows live in tents maybe and some in places and some wherever the Army dumps them. I’ll just take it as it comes. That’s the best thing to do—all I can do anyhow. I don’t mind much what I do now—because I have to do something because tension mounts as late winter and going home time approaches.

            Say now, what courses does M.I.T. offer? Please ask Dad. I’m still thinking about going back to school. I might go to Springfield to take a Phys. trig. course. But, I’m still skeptical about education as a profession. There’s not enough money in it! I don’t want to be rich, but I don’t want to be a pauper, either. We’ll have a nice long talk and look the field over we’ll find something.

            Please give my love to everybody.

                                                            Your loving son,

                                                                                    Chuck