Dear Mudder and Dad,
I don’t know if you will be able to read this. I’m trying to write with a lousy Jerry pen.
Things are moving so fast these days that I don’t know what’s what. Nobody can tell what’s going to happen the next minute.
This won’t be much of a letter but I’d better write while I can. I received my first mail in several days this evening, and I got 7 letters.
By the way, I got a letter from Bob Brewer the other day. It had been written on the eleventh. He said that he didn’t know whether or not the army medics wanted to operate on that head wound. Too dangerous. I understand he wants to get married soon.
I can’t stop thinking about the progress of this the war (damned this pen). I wish I could tell you about what’s going on here. Oh.
Gotta close. “Helluva” letter, huh?