Mon. Sept 11, 1944
Dear Mom, Dad, and Paulie,
I just can’t think of anything to write. Nothing worth mentioning has happened since yesterday and we’re all reading comic books.
Your letter about the adventure of the lost coach sounded like a detective novel, except there was no goodie and no baddie.
Just to fill up space – got another letter from Betty (service is swell now) and a card from Aunt Stel who’s probably home by now.
Heck, I can’t remember that you’re home now because I keep on thinking about writing stuff on wildwood. Phila, remember! Major didn’t say a thing except, “How are you?”
Oh nuts, my mind’s a blank. I’m just wasting time so.