Dear Folks,

It’s rather late so I’ll be very brief this time—to make up for last time. Our change of duty came a little sooner than expected: in fact I’m on my way, more or less, right now. It isn’t to be Cecil Field, but Daytona Beach, which might be rather nice, there being several reasons. The station is: A. only two or three miles from town, B. only about five miles from the ocean beach, and C. there are several thousand waacs all over the place. The city, by the way, has a population of about 22½ thousand, which should be big enough for most purposes without being too big. The set-up should be very nearly perfect for bicycling.

The few men being sent down there from Lee are to go through operational training and then probably at least for a while continue on as assistant instructors. The only planes down there, so I understand, are SBD’s, the still standard fleet scout and dive bombers, a fine plane but heavy and not particularly fast. It will be the ninth manufacture of plane that I shall have flown—clumsily put, but rather staisfying. Actually the plane will probably seem a more powerful BT, which it practically is.

The last several days at Lee we had practically nothing to do, but sit around, there being just a handful of students left, yet I’d expected to be put on a night flying detail, the night flying still being far from completed out there.

They gave us proceed without delay time (48 hrs.) plus one day of travel time—or a total of three days from our date of detachment (Tues., which doesn’t count itself). I had planned to get my bicycle, now at the Reids’, and ride it to the station, perhaps on this side of the river if I could find a way of getting it across at Mayport, but it’s been too rainy then too cold (25° or so). One night with Paynes, two with Gibbs (in good hands).

Love

Toots

—note new address on envelope.

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