Friday, May 4, 1945

Dearest Gee.

Didn’t get any letters yesterday or today, honey, but guess I shouldn’t kick after that gob I got the other day. The package is all gone now. We ate noodles and jelly, eggs, fried potatoes and just before the meal we each took a snort of ye olden Taylor. T’were in the neighborhood of a Thanksgiving dinner. We cooked it ourselves because we didn’t like what the cooks had fixed up for chow. Nice to be independent, isn’t it? But that doesn’t happen often enough.

I just wrote Carrie + Rudy and Coe a letter but haven’t got around to Jack and Hilah to thank them for their package. That really is good fudge that guy makes for her. Don’t know how come she doesn’t fix it herself as she always made good fudge — and coffee. But I sure like your steaks, kid.

I hope I get to see you this summer too, kid, but can’t make any plans. I’ll be home when they let me and I sure hope that’s soon. This ending is coming so gradually that when it does get here no one will be excited about it. I haven’t seen a paper but they tell me old Hitler and Muss got what they should have done ten years ago. Every little bit helps.

How’s the back and feet and cold now? I sure hope you can get straightened out. You worry me. Maybe I should trade you in on a new model, or are they all frozen? Don’t guess I could find another one like you tho.

Just finished sewing on these hooks now. Twas quite a chore but it’s done now.

Guess I’ll have to go now. Hope I see you soon, honey. Sure love you and miss you.

So long now.


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