Sunday, August 30, 2009

Letter 120- September 9, 1944

September 9, 1944

Dear Mother,

This is a poor excuse for a birthday card, I know; but I haven’t been able to get a hold of anything that would be worth a damn. Happy birthday anyway. I just hope we’re able to spend the next one together.

I think I’ll be moving out of here before long so don’t be surprised if you don’t hear from me for even a longer time than you usually have to wait. I don’t think I’m going very far, however.

One of the reasons I haven’t been on the ball about writing since I’ve been here is the depressed way I fell about 9/10 of the time. There’s so little to do except train and wait and wonder. I splash around in the rain all day and then catch cold, sit around when you do get some time off with nothing to do. Really it just about drives everyone off his nut.

You don’t know how much your letters mean to me over here. They make the only bright spot in an otherwise godawful existence. That in itself makes me damned ashamed of myself for not doing better in my letter writing, but it’s the same old story. This dull dreary life is dulling my mind I guess. (This makes a dismal birthday greeting, huh? Sorry.)

Best love,

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