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U. S. Naval Air Station
Daytona Beach

Nov. 15, 1943

Dear Folks,

As it turned out, I could have stayed over another day and night, that is, if I had known that we would not get off until almost noon on Friday, but the main thing was to get home at all, which of course meant more than any words can express. We waited around most Thursday trying to get “clearance,” though the weather to the west was obviously foul. I might have come home again and got there a little earlier, but we agreed to meet at 0900 on Friday, and that would have made things difficult. Actually I was the only one who showed up them, but it’s lucky I did, because after planning a short test hop I found the plane wouldn’t start and had to sort of keep after the ground crew until it did start, which was only just in time to take off with the others.

And what, you may ask, did your wandering boy do the night before? Retire with a book to the B.O.Q. or go to the movies? Certainly not on the second of the only two nights on one’s own native shores in months! As it so seldom does, the opportunist in me came out, and after a little telephoning found myself having a most enjoyable evening with one of the communication officers of an adjoining base, an Ens. Putnam, whom I wish were stationed at Daytona Beach. Get it?

The trip down was enjoyable most of the way and hugely interesting. There was considerable snow in southern Connecticut. We could see the Berkshires and mountains of New York very well, though soon after we bypassed the big city, we had the sun in our eyes from then on. We continued as far as Washington before stopping for the evening and night. I tried to locate J.R.C., this time in vain, and ended up at an entertaining movie, “The Adventures of Tartu” (British agent disguised as foolish Rumanian in Hungary blows up secret gas factory without even the moral support of the misguided heroine, who almost gets him shot). Night at comfortable Hamilton Hotel.

The next morning, like its predecessor, was cold and windy and once again when airborne we found ourselves almost going sideways to keep on course (determined from maps and radio beams). Somehow the two sections never got together after taking off and were separated for the whole day, yet each landed here within a few minutes of the other, a little after dark, though my section had made two stops to the other’s one.

After two easy days here back on the job, I find our squadron has tomorrow off. Ho hum. What to do?

Love to All


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