Well – we’ve been getting short election returns on the hour since 0700 this morning and it looks as if our man made it. The last flash at 1000 conceded 36 states to Roosevelt and said that Dewey had already congratulated the President. I’m glad that all that is over with because I have a suspicion we’ll really get going now, dear. I think the majority of the soldiers wanted to see Roosevelt re-elected whether they like him or not.
Yesterday was another quiet day here and I took care of routine duties most of the day. In case you’re not sure what those are, sweetheart, I’ll tell you. First of all – they are never the same. On the whole, though, when I am around it means supervising sick call, answering the phone a dozen times in the morning, telling this battery commander or that what is wrong with a soldier or where an injured soldier has been evacuated. Before I know it – it’s noon. In the p.m. I very often speak with the Colonel about some situation or other in one of the Batteries – concerning sanitation health and morale. For some reason or other he thinks I’m a good judge of the latter and he often asks me about that. In the late p.m. our daily S-2 report comes in and we study that quite carefully because it has a great deal of information on it these days. Then it is supper time and after that – either Bridge or a little reading. Last nite I read a Medical Journal and then got to bed early. My routine duties were never so organized as they have been the past several weeks – but that’s because we haven’t been tearing cross-country for some time, pretty soon though – I hope, dear.
We got no mail again yesterday and it seems as if they throw in a few bags here and there just to keep the boys satisfied. I’ve been rather fortunate, darling, but some of the other boys haven’t had a letter in days. I was sorry to read that Lois hadn’t heard from her husband in some time; undoubtedly she has by now – but they had some tough fighting down around where her husband has been – although I guess it’s tough everywhere.
Today marks one year since we left Camp Edwards and I’ll never forget how I hated to get on that train. We had turned in all our excess equipment, we had combat clothes and we knew that this time it was no false alarm; what I knew or felt more keenly was the fact I was leaving the vicinity of Boston, of home – of those I loved and I was truly unhappy. You and I were in – shall I say an awkward stage? I think we both knew then that we wanted each other – but time had run out too fast for us. It drizzled all the way down to New York and it was raining when we got off the train. Then with full packs and all, we had to hike about 2½ miles – uphill. We were a sad lot when we arrived. And then we really had a hectic week. We gave shots, did examinations, filled out blanks etc. We had that one pass to N. York and that was that. I sure wouldn’t like to go through all that again, believe me, darling – it was unpleasant. I’ll be very much interested in what my letters sounded like. All was a mess of contradictions and rumors; we could or could not do this; we could write this and not that; we couldn’t telephone, telegraph etc. I guess I broke about every rule in the Army books – but I was sure beginning to miss you, darling, and I haven’t stopped missing you for one moment since – and darling – I won’t stop missing you until that day I take you in my arms and say I’m back for good. All for now, dear, love to the folks and