Dearest Folks:
Here it is Christmas Day 1942. That’s just about all I feel like saying—today is Christmas seems enough. I guess a guy should have a lot to feel (good) about and write about but I can’t find any words. The day was an easy one and I spent most of it reading and listening to the radio. For dinner we had everything and plenty of it and we exchanged gifts that were put under the tree in the mess hall.
I started this letter last nite but didn’t feel up to finishing it so perhaps I can tonight. Had some films come in today so here are a few.
I just came back from a show at our open air theater—pretty good too.
And here’s a copy of our paper sort of done up in Christmas style. It doesn’t seem any easier to write tonight than it did last (nite) so I’ll let the rest of the contents suffice for this time. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have time and more words.
Love,
