Saturday, October 7, 1944
Dear Mom, Dad and Paulie,
Three letters today and I’ll try to answer all your questions. That’s what I was afraid of-I knew Dad would want me to answer Goff’s and Oberly’s letters, but HA!, HA! I sent Oberly’s letter to you without copying his name and address. What can I write anyway?
Now about the furlough- I expect to spend about a month in the cast and it’s about 3 days short of 2 weeks now. I doubt if the wedge will make me stay in much longer. Then about a week before I get my brace and then another month before I can walk good enough for a trip home. So it will be at least sometime, probably, in December. But of course this is all my own figuring based on other fellows’ experiences. But I think it’s about right.
It is pajama pants that I’m wearing, not khakis.
You’d still better lay off the sweets, I’m not too hungry for the past few days.
Now where the heck does Dad get this stuff about me wanting to see you or Paul more than I want to see him? Who does he think he is and who does he think I am? If he has a chance to come down, that’s marvelous! Now let’s have no more of that.
No, I didn’t hear the Breakfast Club. In fact I haven’t heard it since I told you.
We have a very peculiar patient in one of the private rooms. He is an Italian Prisoner of War who was captured in Sicily who later joined a labor battalion in our army. He can’t speak English except for a word here and there and is a sandy-haired (not swarthy at all), jolly fellow. A few of us go into his room and try and talk. It’s a lot of fun.
I may go down to the Red Cross and play bingo tonite.