Dear Folks:

I’ve neglected you for the past three days but a combination of circumstances were responsible, not altogether my own laxity.  Anyway to recover a lost round here goes.  I can easily imagine what is uppermost in your mind.  Bet everybody was having a swell time all day for the home circle with the wedding and the following fiesta.  Well that’s for you to give me the lowdown on—so I’ll give you the dope as it happened on my holiday.  The day coincided with my pass day so I slept in until nine o’clock, then loafed around until noon.  We were all epicurean artists.   They had everything from legendary soup to nuts—with about two pounds of turkey per head.  We even inveigled a quart of wine to use in the sauce.  When I got up I felt like Harry Johnson looks and had both belt ends flapping away from a tortured stomach.  I could only look sadly at the coconut frosted cake and pass it by.  In the afternoon I went into town, had a few beers and returned to camp.  The liquor situation is pretty acute and places open only as shipments permit.  Yesterday being a holiday, a few places were open and everyone was filled.

I sent Katie a message but afraid it didn’t reach her in time—anyway you can forward it to them.  Now I’ll chew my nails until the pictures get here and your letters giving me the scoop.  From the time I got up yesterday I imagined everything that was going on at the minute—but with my limited familiarity with nuptial rites I’m afraid my imagination went awry.  Dick as an usher forced quite an imagination.

Yes, Captain Olson is still my CO.

I think this (is) all I can compose this time.  I write about the battery once a week in the paper—perhaps I should send you the clippings as memoirs.

It’s another Thanksgiving gone into history and let’s hope that on the next one we’ll be thankful the war is over.

Buenos Noches tonight.

Love,