Dear Folks,

This time the news is almost 100 per cent negative. Obviously I haven’t left for Chicago, but I still expect to get there if and when my orders cease from being bogged down. Besides odd jobs, the latest having been to go out and drop a “slick” of conspicuous matter, substance unknown, for planes to bomb (the only trouble was they couldn’t find it!), I’ve been taking a new short course on instrument flying. The latest development is assignment to a new training squadron as second assistant instructor, or perhaps I should say just “assistant” because of not having “qualified” on a carrier as yet. This doubtless means towing target sleeves, observing bomb hits, etc., unless Chicago is seen very soon. The course here has just been lengthened for the benefit of lads coming in without the equivalent what we taught at Lee Field and for which SNJs, the old favorite, will be used considerably.

My sympathy is with H. Coolidge and with the air-minded fourth formers, who, it seems to me, showed enterprise of a not wholly uncommendable sort.

Somehow this dull succession of words got lost for several days, but now there’s a little more to tell about—nothing new about orders, but a trip to Vero Beach, over 100 mi. south of here, and now, following the comma, I’ve just been to Jax and back, both times just to transport a passenger. Vero Beach is where I might have gone from Lee, but on the whole appears to be not quite so nice. There is, however, a fine swamp for birds a few miles to the west, which, together withe the inferior beach, a friend of mine, Bob Stix, drove me to see.

This letter is having a tough time getting off, just having been left at the squadron for a day or so.

Last night I went out to dinner at a full lieutenant’s house, or rather at the Bath and Tennis Club, in his party, which was pleasant as well as a privilege.

To-day is Easter, but a working day so I missed church. Here’s a Happy Easter anyway to everyone and apologies for a dull and overdue letter.

Love

T.R.

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