Thursday, January 13, 1944

Dearest Gee.

I’m losing track of the dates, kid. I thought yesterday was the thirteenth and now somebody tells me differently. Oh well, I’ve got nothing but time anyway. Got three more letters last night. One from you dated Nov. 30 with the newspaper page in it, thanks; one from Rudy and Carrie — a Christmas card and letter with a buck in it, first one of those I’ve seen in some time, and last, but not least, one from Mildred dated the same time as yours and written in Campbell’s [Candy Shop]! I wrote Chick a letter last night. Reckon he’ll be wanting to get some mail of some sort soon. Yes, his division has made quite a name for itself. I don’t think you’ll ever read anything about us. Not that we aren’t doing a good job but I think you know what I mean. Whenever you don’t even dare discuss the weather no telling what they’d do to you if you started talking about this outfit and the war. I don’t want any glory anyway, if they just get this over with and let us all come home. That’s enough for me. How was Christmas with all the kids? What’s the matter that Billy [Bruns, his teenage nephew] doesn’t write anymore? He could sure have a good time here. Sure love you and miss you. Be good.

So long now.

Snook

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