January 6, ‘44
New Guinea
Dearest Mother and Dad,
I haven’t been able to write the last two days because I haven’t had much of a chance. We have been extremely busy. I am not tired of flying yet but I would really like to get a good rest for two or three months. I am sure that would help about a thousand percent.
Our food has been terrible since we moved. Nothing but bully beef. I used to call it corned beef but it is the same as bully beef. We have pancakes every morning and I am really sick of them. Imagine hot cakes with oleo and jam. Milk is never used on the island other than in the can so you can guess how much I had on leave. We have quite a bit of canned fruit and that is what keeps us going.
At present it is 8 o’clock and I am on duty as my special job in the squadron. Have a lot of things to watch because we can never be caught napping. At present everything is very slow. Maybe it will liven up after a while. (I hope not!)
I am enclosing some very poor pictures that you might care to have. I surely wish I could get some good pictures. I will keep on trying. I had to work on my camera so maybe it will do better.
Right now I am listening to a short-wave program from San Francisco. It surely sounds good and I wish I were back there instead of here.
I have just heard a news report from the States and it sounds very good. They said quite a bit about us and our operations. I have been in on all the “big doings” that have been going on over here. Hnatio got three the other day and some others get quite a few. At present I have never been in a good position. The other day I was going after one and another fellow beat me to him. I was making about five hundred at the time. He started closer than I did. He did a beautiful job on it. Had a Nip to make a pass at me but I was down fairly low so I just tucked my tail and got away. I was lucky. Well, Mom, everything is O.K. with me so please don’t worry any more than you can help. We have everything the way we want it and that makes it nice.
‘Bye for now and do keep writing as often as you can. Our mail doesn’t come thru as well as it used to.
Please write often,
Love,
Son
P.S. Please send more clippings.
