Spitball Army

Dr. Anderson took the other 4 stitches out this morning. He thought it was looking good and he told me I didn’t have to carry it in the sling any longer.

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Dr. Anderson took me off penecillin last night. That made me very happy.

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Do you remember how large the patch was on my arm where I couldn’t feel the point of a pin? Well, it isn’t quite 1/3 as big now.

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Guess what —— I got a letter this morning from my Sweetheart. It was written Friday night and she still loves me. She better — because I love her.

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[Written to Alice in Acton, Indiana.  Return addressed: Richard, Ward 11, U.S.N.H., St. Albans, L.I., N.Y.  Postmarked at Jamaica, N.Y., on 7 Feb 1946 at 6 P.M.] Feb. 7, 1946 Hello Sweetheart,      Do you remember what that “Hello” is supposed to mean?  Well, thank goodness there weren’t many letters that I had to use it […]

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For the first half of the trip I was watching the time-table with one eye and my watch with the other. You could set your watch by that train.

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I talked to another doctor this afternoon. He told me that I would end up either in New York or Washington, D.C. According to him, those are the only 2 hospitals I can go to for treatment of my nerve injury.

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The Doctor comes around every day and asks you how you feel. The answer is always the same – “O.K.” or “Pretty good.” That’s my treatment.

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A few weeks ago, I noticed that there were an awful lot of black hash marks on my swimming chart. Counting them, I found that I was closing in on one hundred miles.

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There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

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