Oct. 23, 1942
Dear Folks,
As the time approaches I get more and more restless, which is one reason why I’ve become an especially poor correspondent of late. There’s nothing definite to report, but at the present rate we may well finish up next Saturday, the last of the month. Fortunately they’ve cut down on the night flying schedule, and we have only one more night to go, which will be spent on a navigation hop to sea, yours truly leading. The other fellow led the way on the trip up river and back. Two previous nights were spent in practicing formation and landings alternately, and one night we had catapult shots. A shortage of “chase” pilots has caused some delay in that, because of such a situation, we are given no flight every few days. Not knowing for sure our “graduation” date, we are very much concerned about transportation home—reservations and such. One thing, however, will probably be in our favor. It looks as if we won’t receive any advanced orders before we leave, which means we’ll have to return here afterwards, and though this is unfavorable in that we’ll get no travel pay, it will mean a minimum of red tape involved in leaving the station. They’ll try to assign as many of us as possible to cruiser or battleship duty since that is what we’re especially trained for, but offshore patrol most anywhere is also a likely possibility and something I’d prefer unless it were from some awful spot. I’m practically positive I’d get miserably seasick aboard ship.
If I have time tomorrow, I intend to look into the train and plane situation. Sat. P.M. is a good bet as things look now.
Except for flying I seem to have been too restless to do much of anything constructive lately. My letter output has dwindled almost to nil, though I managed to get one off to Grandma. I just finished an interesting book on the Pacific Ocean, but it took a renewal for me to finish it.
Two weeks ago I went out to dinner, and I’m going out again tomorrow night, but if I hadn’t been invited, I probably should have done nothing of a social nature. Last Wednesday another fellow and I took in the Harvard Club dinner. It wasn’t bad, but I didn’t know anybody. The captain of this station was there as a guest, which lent some awe to the occasion. The main speaker was a local politician and pretty fair.
Last night two of us went to the buffet supper at the officers’ club and afterward I called on a friend at the hospital—and so it goes.
That’s geat news about Nance being so fit and enthusiastic. You won’t find me in such good shape, but perhaps rather tired in several respects. Two weeks at Groton and Squam should restore some pep, however, and I’ve got some not bad looking uniforms too.
If a ship isn’t ready, by the way, one is apt to be around Norfolk or wherever it is perhaps going on ferry trips, etc. Norfolk is said to be a dreadful place now, and I suppose most shipping centers are nearly as bad—no transportation facilities, nothing to do in spare time, erc.
Cold has long since gone except for typical traces. I think I’d like to stay at the camp unless the weather is very bad. Blues? Hell no, anything I want except when in public.
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