Spitball Army

[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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A Christmas Note for You, Sweetheart

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I think I’m going to St. Auborns, New York. I don’t know how to spell [is] but that it close.

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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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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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I just wanted to let you know that I’m O.K.

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