Found a little more of this paper so I’m gonna make use of it. The envelopes are finished.
Got seven letters the last two days. Your swell airmails of Nov. 7, 9, and 11th; a nice one from Mom of the 8th; a five pager from Mildred of the 2nd; a Christmas card from Jack and Hilah; and a v-mail from Chick. Had quite a reading bee for awhile. I think for the first time you really took time off and explained how you were getting on with your treatments and what the future holds. Was certainly glad to get all the inside dope. Honey, isn’t there some way you can slack off on your work anyway. You seem to be scared to death to use that eighty-five coming in every month and why I don’t know. You know that’s why it’s being sent home. I’m glad you want to save it, but not at the expense of your health. I don’t know the expenses you have now, but if you can get by on that maybe I can add ten bucks to it a little later on. It always looked to me like you made unnecessary work for yourself anyway. Sure wish I could have a little heart to heart talk with you, there are a lot of things I’d like to tell you and talk to you about that I can’t begin to tell you in a letter.
I sent your package off yesterday. Wanted to send a few more things but the censor wouldn’t let me. I’ve got your Tabu perfume in there (hope it doesn’t break), a handmade belt, a beaten-up beret, some picture folders of Nice, Menton, Cannes, and a dago dictionary that I hope I never have to use anymore. Had to put quite a bit of paper in for ballast. I also have a Yank magazine I wanted to send but forgot to put it in so will send it separate. It has a lot of pictures in it of the Force. In fact, the cover is some of our guys.
When I was in Nice I had the works done on me in a barber shop. They call themselves coiffeurs or something like that. I had just had a nice hot shower (damn near clogged the drain) so high know my hair stood straight in the air. The barber took me in town and when he got down I was pretty hard to recognize. Thought for awhile I was back in Geneva’s Beauty Parlor. I smelled, believe me.
So my pappy is buying your cigarettes. That is something. How is he doing for his Prince Albert? Can he get that? If he ever has to do without that I don’t know what will happen.
Don’t think so much about those pictures I send home. You’re getting yourself all worked up. I’ll do the worrying at this end.
Honey, I sure love you, and miss you. Hope we see each other soon. I’m getting awful tired of this.