3 October 1943
S/Sgt R. Wallis
353rd Bomb Squadron
301st Bomb Group (H)AAF
So help me, this makes my fourth attempt to write to you in as many days. I manage about three or four lines and something comes up that causes a halt. Regardless of what happens now I’m going to finish or know the reason why.
Your letter of fifteen September arrived a few days ago and from the contents I gather that you’ve heard some good news. The worst part of the situation is that it seems to have come from me. I refer of course to this business about my coming home soon. I don’t quite remember writing such a thing to you as fact. In the first place the censors would not allow that kind of dope to go thru the mail. My asking you for your phone number might have given you the idea. I wish I could remember just what I did write. Well anyway, lets’ not get too excited whatever was in the wind has died down for the present. I do feel that something will happen in the near figure, but whether it be good or bad I can’t rightly say.
This typewriter finally took to heart what I said about dropping the !hj. That particular key just broke and I have just spent thirty minutes trying to fix it. Of course you notice I didn’t succeed. After this I won’t say another word about typewriters.
Had a talk with a real American girl yesterday, the first one I have seen for ages. She was a member of the Red Cross- dropped in with a friend to cheer up the boys a little. I had the good fortune to sit at the same table with her at supper. As it turned out they were holding a Bingo game for us in the evening with prizes and everything. I wasn’t exactly in the mood for Bingo so of course I didn’t go. What I really intended to do was write a letter to Harriet but that never came about either.
I wish these people would stop bothering me, in a minute I’m going to pick up this typewriting and go off in the field somewhere. I swear this place is worse than the grande central station at times. How nice it must be to be able to retire to the peace and quiet of your own home. I’m fed up with everything and I mean really. I have been in this mess so long now that I sometimes wonder whether I ever knew or did anything else.
Well I’m sunk now for sure these guys won’t leave me alone. If anybody can think with all this chatter going on he would have to be a wonder.
I am still looking for those pictures of your and of course that extra special one. At first I was going to call it a birthday present but that way things look now Christmas would be more closer to the truth. You have probably discovered by this time that my handwriting leaves something to be desired. Any resemblance to scribbling is not purely coincidental. Need you wonder why I always use a typewriter.
Would you believe it. I think I’m really going to finish this letter. Before it gets away from me I had better say so long and God bless you. The next time I write I’m going to climb down a well. If that don’t work nothing else will.
Keep the home first burning —