Dear Dad:
I’ll aim this letter at you this time having received a good full page one today. And what a day this one was. I feel like a kid after a day at the carnival. This morning I went over a Ranger Course that took all my strength to finish. I was never so (tired) since the days (when) we used to climb in the mountains. To describe it most effectively I guess it’s about like some of the training pictures you so often see in newsreels. After I finished I swore I was going to hug my bunk for the rest of the day, but a swimming party was arranged and the first thing I knew I went along. The waves at the beach were big and powerful. Its good fun to get in front of one and let it bowl you in to shore and that was okeh till I came down on my shoulder into a rock. The rock took a couple of big hunks of skin off and bruised my arm a little but it feels fine now. I wish you could have been with me today and seen the beautiful ocean and the beach. Although to most of the guys the ‘Paradise of the Pacific’ has become a prison rock to them. It hasn’t for me. The more I see of this place the more I feel I want to see more of the world. As a matter of fact I guess I daydream of many things after the war, maybe pipe dreams and impossibilities but nevertheless I think of them a lot and hope a few of them come into reality after the end. I never become disgusted at Army routines or other things that are different to civilian life, but I do get impatient over the fact that so much of my time is being wasted when probably at no other time should it be so productive. I guess that shouldn’t be a complaint – so many others are faced with the same thing. Knowing that this is the case I am trying to do the next best thing and even the small advantages compensate for some of the loss.
Reading in your letter about K Lackey I can’t but help to remark. I can’t figure that guy out, especially sitting himself in a liquor store and probably thinking up more things than ever to elucidate on. I guess it takes all kinds.
Well Dad this is a good night to pull down the book and study till bedtime. By this time I have read the two volumes you sent and of course I intend to (read) over them again. Those books have become more less inanimate objects and more like friends every day, and the object of my complaint is that I can’t study them all the time. So I guess this is all for this time. Thanks for the long letter today.
Love,
