Dear Aunty Clara:

It is about 10:30 at night. I came back to the office to type this up because tomorrow morning is my morning off and I will not be able to send you the morning message as usual.

Because I have tomorrow morning off and because tonight was the deadline in getting letters for the men over 38 years old into Personnel, I did little overtime work. All in all it took about two hours.

Incidentally, I was heartbroken today (in the morning mail delivery) for I did not receive any mail for the third consecutive day. That situation was alleviated, however, because just before supper, the mail clerk, Roman F. Burkard called me over and gave me a letter which had slipped thru into the company mail. It was from Myrtle and Mrs. Reed. Will you please tell them that I received it and will answer in the near future?

By the way, my being crestfallen at the lack of mail hit me as a boom-er-rang and I could well imagine how you felt during those days in which you probably waited expectantly for the mailman only to get nothing. It is a lot of fun getting mail, isn't it? And no fun at all to be passed by.

Just before I took off last Tuesday, I carried all my boxes of letters and writing material over to the barracks and stuffed it all into my locker. Since then I haven't opened them up once. My plan of action for the morrow is to clean out and reorganize my locker, do the same for my correspondence files and then begin to study once more on my Army Institute course.

It is just about time that I begin on the Army Institute once more.

Did I tell you that Larry Isaacson has the measles? Yes, he has. It was either Thursday or Friday of last week that he and Barney Frank both came down with them. They have been hospitalized ever since. The one part about it that I don't like is that the day before he became sick, he borrowed two of my Army Institute books which helped him with his course. Now I can't get at them because they are locked in his locker.

Gee whiz, if I only could get started sending out letters to other people once again. Somehow, I just can't seem to get around to them. I always have something to say to you when I sit down to the typewriter and when I am finished saying it, it is either too late to continue writing or I am out of the mood. It is going to prove mighty embarrassing trying to explain what the delay was. Especially to Ray and Mrs. Boyer who have been asking me to write just a little if I can get it by the "censor".

Completed letters to both Pat and Dolores now lie in my correspondence box. Seems as if I'll never get the ambition to put a stamp on them and send them off.

Since this is just going to be a short note, I will not carry it over onto the other side of this sheet. But before I leave it I mustn't forget to tell you what Sergeant Driscoll told me today at lunch. When the latest promotion and reductions finally go thru, there is going to be a big rearrangement of sleeping quarters in the barracks. When the changes are all finished, I am going to wind up sleeping in one of the rooms. That will mean that on Sundays and the like I may be able to bring up my typewriter and write without any interruptions whatsoever. Why, who knows, maybe I'll be able to write a book then.

Immediately after writing to you that I didn't wear my G.I. glasses anymore, I ran into some very close work. I was working on the Service Records and didn't have to refocus my eyes by looking up continually. I kept finding myself edging closer and closer to the work. It was then that I put on the glasses. They are excellent for close work like that. I must remember to put them on from now on for all the reading I do in the future. If they are used in that respect (like you use yours), they will probably serve some good. From time to time I will let you know how I'm doing with them.

Funny, I thought this letter wasn't going to go into a second page and here we are.

Aha, for once I am going to remember my manners and call it to your attention. Will you please say hello for me to Aunty Florence, Uncle Joe, Mr. Gonzalez, the Infiestas and the Reeds and my Dad and Rosana and Rose. If you write to Milwaukee, say hello to them for me too. O.K.? If I don't write them letters anymore, I guess that will be the only way I can get to them anymore (thru you), right? My conscience is beginning to hurt though that I have neglected them and am thinking, seemingly, only of my own self lately.

Jack Molyneaux is trying to get into the Air Corps. In fact, there are quite a few in the regiment that are trying to get into the same thing. Now that I know a little more about how the army is run, I think it could be arranged that once in the Air Corps as a flying cadet a person could swing it to be "E'd", as George was and then, because of past experience in army office work, be sent to the Army Air Corps Administration School from which you graduate in a rather high-ranking non-commissioned grade into the administrative end of the Air Corps.

Jack has been after me to get my birth certificate and letters and apply for it too. Maybe you could send me the thing and the letter Jerry the milkman wrote and if I decide to do it, I will have all the stuff on hand. We can get letters from the lieutenants easily enough to get the required three. I'm not sure, though, whether I want to go thru that trouble or not.

What do you think? Should I try a "Tommy Mashos" or not?

Goomby pleez,   (solong)
/s/ Roman
Roman