January 20, 1944

4:00 P.M.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I have just about decided that a somewhat sheltered life in the medical corps might suit me more than the life of a flyer. I'm going to see the adjutant tomorrow about the possibilities of a transfer. It may be that I won't be allowed to transfer.

I've got something else wrong with me now. Tenosynovitis (or something) of the left achilles tendon. I'm taking whirlpool treatments and I got relieved of duty today. I've been reading Dorothy Sayers. She gets a Little Linesome. She give a very good description of her idea of a wedding night in her "Busmen's Honeymoon". It corresponds somewhat to my own rather wild imaginations. But she's discreet, of course, and so am I!

This pen is foul.

I wrote Mrs. Sturdivant, and I mentioned that you had reminded me that she was sweet. I'll have to sneak off to Greenville and see her some weekend, I guess.

Your fruitcake is delicious. I've only nibbled that tremendous loaf so far.

Already all the boys have slacked off their cadet smarters. The bunks are always sloppy, and the floors need sweeping. The training goes on as ever, though.

I should be extremely happy if Dad could stop over here on his way home. But it would undoubtedly be out of his way. I could get a 15-day furlough, but I thought I should wait until just before I go to a Port of Embarkation, which will probably be within six months. I shall undoubtedly come home within three or four months. We're supposed to get a furlough every six months.

Give my love to my brother and sister.

Your loving son,

Linus