In reply to your letter of May 27, 1942, have entered change of address in our files. We thank you. I have referred your complaint as to the lax mail service you have been receiving to our Mailing Department, who in turn referred it to our Transportation Department, who not being able to locate the source of the trouble contacted the Federal Bureau of Investigation, one of our subsidiaries.

I've three free hours now 'till we're due to pull out on another division problem which is going to be just some rugged. It's now 9:00 pm and we leave at 12:15 tonight so I think I'll stay up 'till then. We'll probably drive for three or four hrs. — without lights — and then set up camp somewhere out in the woods, grab a couple hours sleep if we're lucky, and then take off again.

'Just got back from a swell show over at the post theater. The picture was "Shores of Tripoli" and it was a little bit of alright. Have you seen it? Just some Marines and some sweet chicken!

'Had a rugged week on K.P. last week but am hoping it will be my last week but am hoping it will be my last (I'm rapping on wood). An order came out Saturday that from now on Technicians don't have to pull it — and I guess you know that's going to be a little bit of allright one time).

'Was dead tired when I hit my bunk last night but it was nearly an hour later before I fell asleep for thinking of you, and the fun we had while I was home, of the things we did, and the things we left undone. Sweetheart you were wonderful and I'll never be able to find the words to tell you how perfectly swell it was to be with you again.

I just got back to the tent from the kitchen — one more day of K.P. finished with only three more to go. Boy and they're really long days — from 6:00 in the morning 'till 9:00 at night. We've got 6 K.P.s to do all the dishes, set the tables, peel the spuds, etc. for nearly 200 men. Right now I look a mess, need a shave, shower & shampoo, and feel pretty lousy in general.

One more night here at Fitzsimons, and school, Denver, and the Rocky Mts. will be a thing of the past. We had our final exams last Saturday and what with the cramming piled on to the regular work last week was pretty rough. I came though with a lot better grade than I had figured on though (Got a 96 ave.), so we went into Denver Saturday night to celebrate it — and once again I'm on the wagon for life.

There's a healthy black-jack game going on over my bed, and all the fellows say "howdy". I've been playing (was pretty lucky too) but can't keep my mind on the darn cards for thinking of you. Hon' these last two weeks at school are really going to drag — it is the home-stretch though and that's going to be a big help.

This seems to be the last piece of stationery in the barracks so I’m going to write as small as I can to make it do. The post exchange is closed so I can’t get anymore ‘till morning and I don’t want to wait ‘till tomorrow night—that’s the trouble, there’ve been too many tomorrow nights. Darling again I’m sorry.

I’m right smack back in the old routine again and after the couple of days I had at home it’s harder to take than ever. Thanks a million for the Camels (the best cig.s made), they came in plenty handy, but darling you shouldn’t have spent that money on me. What are you going to use for cash this month? I know darn well you’re going to be short, so thanks a hell of a lot again.

HITTING MILWAUKEE APPROX. NOON THURSDAY STOP CAN YOU MEET ME AT CM&STP DEPOT STOP IF CAN DO—SWELL STOP IF NO CAN DO WIRE COLLECT STOP

Darling I got your swell present this afternoon, and don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you. Sitting here this evening I can’t find the words to express my thanks or show my appreciation, not only for the swell case, but for the many things you’ve done for this soldier in the last six months. And ironically enough, this Christmas, it must be with words alone that I express my appreciation.

Darling I got your swell box of candy today, and don’t know what I’ve ever done to deserve a swell fella like you for a girl friend. I’ve got nothing to be more thankful for this year than the fact that I met you, and absolutely nothing to be less thankful for than having to be away from you.

I got your letter yesterday out here at our temporary (?) parking place and the middle of a swamp “somewhere in Louisiana”—and tho I wanted to answer it immediately I didn’t get the chance to write till now. When I saw your handwriting on the envelope yesterday I was more than a little hesitant about opening it, for I fully expected to find a brief note telling me what a heel I was an

Dear Bud, Am just waiting around for a new bunch of selectees to show up—. They are due in camp about 3:00 o’clock. Our company is being assigned about 75 of ‘em and what a time we’re going to have. The life down here isn’t so bad though, because we are permitted to lie around in bed every morning until 5:00 o’clock.

Got both your letters this past week, one on Monday and the other, day before yesterday, on Friday. Hon’, you must be psychic. Monday morning it poured cats, dogs, and little fishes; and Monday morning Pvt. L. Winsauer was put in charge of a detail which was to remove three G.D. tremendous tree stumps from the middle of our drill field.

Up to the time I got your last letter I was under the impression that you were going to be here this week instead of next—probably because you had written me before you knew you were coming South that your vacation was to be from the 14th to the 24th. What happened? Did you get an extension?

Wanted to get this letter in the mail by yesterday morning, but I haven’t had a minute’s time to write until now. Thursday night there was a practice blackout; last night the whole battalion had to listen to Sec. Stinson’s speech then watch a compulsory training movie; and this morning we had our weekly inspection—so no letter writing.

Dear Jeanne, I didn’t get your letter ’till this morning, as I left camp Saturday noon to go to Shreveport (About 120 miles away) and didn’t get back until late last night. Ten minutes after mailing my last letter to you I began to wonder if I perhaps had misinterpreted your words, and by the next morning I would have given just something to be able to have gotten it back.

Darling another week has passed and I’m in trouble trying to decide whether to regard the passing of time as — ”Swell, one month nearly completed,” or “Hell, eleven more months to go.” In either case it looks like one heck of a long time to December and our probable first furlough. This past week was a relatively easy one — that is, it wasn’t quite as tough as those which preceded it. (Something is wrong with my pen, so if you’ll bear with me I’ll finish this letter in pencil.)