Spitball Army

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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I was very surprised that you hadn’t heard the news about me. Oh well, that doesn’t matter. Just so I get back to you.

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I just made a gentleman’s bet with the guy next to me that I [CENSORED].

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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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As you probably know by now, I was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

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…wounded on Okinawa May 29…

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I’m about ready to hit the sack, Sweetheart. Can’t be done just yet though, can it? I haven’t even told you that I love you and I haven’t wished you a happy birthday yet.

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There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

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