February 16, 1944
Dearest Mom
What should I do with the Whitney Darraw album? It might make a good addition to our
collection at home.
I guess I'll have to get busy and have some portraits taken. Of course they will be very
cheap, as all soldier portraits are.
Life is certainly useless now. The only thing worth living for is getting out of the army.
But that is far off, I'm afraid. I'm tempted to buy myself out. I certainly played my cards
wrong. It is too bad that I seduced myself into trying to fly, but there's no use in crying over
spilled milk. Perhaps when I get out of basic my attitude will change. I suppose the whole thing
is due to my old desire to be able to do what I want to. For that reason I should much prefer
working for myself when it comes to earning a living. Then the public is the only dictator.
February 18, 1944
I was discharged from the hospital today somewhat prematurely I think, because I still
have a cold. It's only a matter of a few days before I'll be back in. We go on bivouac tomorrow
or the next day, and that well speed thing up. Bivouac is going to be sort of rough because I'm
definitely not in decent shape.
There is no hope for a furlough. I tried both the doctor and my C.O. The only furlough
are emergency, such as illness in the family, and are arranged through the Red Cross.
I was surprised this morning to get called up to the flight surgeons office. There the
colonel informed me that he had received a letter from someone asking for my transfer. So he is
going to try. The wheels are turning all because of Dad, of course.
Yesterday I had an interesting talk with a fellow who is being discharged for probable
paranoia. I realize not that I could very probably get myself out of the army just by a clever
simulation. It is very easy to get a discharge these days the army seems to be weeding out
misfits. I really don't know whether to try or not. I am certainly not very happy here, but I hate
to think that I couldn't stick it out. But I could undoubtedly do myself more good out, and
probably the nation would benefit more.
If I did get away from bondage, I would work, war plant, probably, to earn some money
to go back to school on.
I think I'm at last realizing the folly of being second rate I don't like the thought of
being just like the people I have to associate with around here.
I ran across an exception to that this morning. I was getting my clothes out of hock, and
the fellow who was in charge asked me if I were any relation of the chemist Linus Pauling.
When I admitted the fact, he was agreeably surprised and mentioned that the world is indeed
small. He is a typical hard-luck story. He graduated from some middle western university,
majoring in chemistry, and then got a commission as lieutenant in the Marine Corps, though a
reserve. The glory of flying appealed to him, so he resigned and got into the Air Corps, poor
fellow. Of course he washed out, and is now trying to get out of his present position, which
anyone with the intelligence of a flea could take over. He knew the Swingles well, and was
unaware that Mrs. Swingle had died. She was his former teacher in bacteriology or something.
He also knew old Dr. Swingle. He is very bitter over the course of affairs.
Civilians are laboring under a tremendous misconception regarding the armed forces, and
the joys of life associated therewith. I would like shove these magazine writers into an Army
camp for a few months and see if they would write so glibly afterwards. Everyone in here
concedes that the army is most unfairly glamorized.
It is easy to say, as I do, that the Navy would be infinitely superior, but I would complain
as much, no doubt, if I were there.
You might as well leave my barracks number off my address hereafter. It will make the
mailroom look up my where about sooner and I shift too often for accuracy.
Well, this has been some letter! The rebelling of a soul. You'll get more letters soon, I
supposes, because I'll be lonely.
All my love to you all, Your,
Linus
P.S. I should be interested in your opinions regarding release!