Sgt. L. Winsauer - 36212741
Camp Pickett, Virginia

Miss Jean Johnson
Sheboygan, Wisconsin

Hi Darling,

'Got into Camp this morning (Mon.) at 6:00 A.M., — just in time to stand in revielle, eat chow and then get to work over at the Dispensary. We were busy until now (11:30) with sick - call, and are now taking a break till dinner. Will write tonight.

Love,

Louis

Sgt. L. Winsauer
Dispensary
Camp Pickett, Virginia

Miss Jean Johnson
Sheboygan, Wisconsin

December 21, 1942

Dearest Darling,

I'm over at the Dispensary, so thought I'd bang out this letter on the new portable typewriter our outfit got while I was at home. It's a little Corona and probably not worth a damn, but here goes — 'course any mistakes I make are the fault of the new machine — naturally!

It seemed so damn funny today, even though we were busy as the dickens, I kept thinking "better call up Shorty and find out what we're going to do tonight", then I'd remember where I was and the old heart'd take a nose dive. I'm still living in the glow of the old furlough and can't realize that it's all over — at least for a while.

I slept on the bus most of the way to Milwaukee — got there at about 6:00, checked my bag at the depot and then went across the street to pick up something to eat. After a lousy fish dinner I had a couple of short ones — just to warm me up a little (They didn't), and then got my bag, caught a cab and high-tailed it over to the Northwestern Station. Took the 7:00 instead of the 8:00 o'clock train to Chicago and rode down with two G.I.s who were also going back from furlough. One of them lives in Oshkosh and the other in Random Lake. The kid from Random Lake worked in Sheboygan at the Court House for a couple of years and we gave Oshkosh a going over about the basketball game. Both of them were going back to some camp in Missouri. I had expected to meet this kid, Triberger from Plymouth in Chicago — remember, he's the fellow I rode home with, well he wasn't there (I found out today that he left on Saturday morning) but I met another one of the boys from Pickett, a fellow I had known well when I was in the 45th Med.s. so we rode from Chicago to Camp. He had a quart of some of the best wine I've ever tasted — I don't usually give a damn about the stuff, but this was a dry wine and it went swell. The ride from Chicago to here was lousy, however, the cars were crowded, you had to wait hours to get into the diners, I never could get any decent sleep in a coach, and the train just kept losing time and losing time, till I thought sure I'd be up for court-martial. We just made it though, got into Blackstone a little before 6:00 A.M. Monday, grabbed a bus and were in Camp just in time for reveille.

We've been busy as hell all day, and then after supper tonight, had to go to a two-hour class on the .45 Revolver. Right now I'm pretty well fagged out and aim to hit the hay immediately after a good hot shower. It's not any too warm down here now either, there's about three inches of snow on the ground and though the sun was out all day it couldn't have gotten over 20 above.

Two days now since I've been with you and darling it seems like a month — that is it did, but you know, sitting here just now, thinking about you and the things we did while I was home brought you so close I can almost believe youre right behind me and if I turned around there you'd be, just as sweet and kissable as you were any old night last week — I'm almost afraid to look.

I shouldn't have, cause now I'm back at Pickett and you're up in Wisconsin and I'm tired again, there's a war going on, and ——.

Well sweetheart I'm going to say goodnight for now 'cause I really am tired and maybe when I get to sleep I can dream of a time when the war will be a thing of the past and it'll be just you and I and no more "Goodbyes" or even "Goodnights".

Goodnight darling, I love you

Louis