March 31, 1944
Dear Mom
I'm getting out of the hospital tomorrow. I hope I find my transfer to the medical
detachment waiting.
The air corps has fallen completely to pieces. No more cadet enlistments, no more air
combat crew enlistments nothing. That means the big shots think that there are enough men in
training to satisfy all our needs. So there is no chance of advancement in the air corps ratings
have been frozen for a long time anyway. So I would be well out of it.
I have discovered that I like Eugene O'Neill or perhaps I've just gotten to the state in
which I enjoy reading plays. I read one play of O'Neill's a long time ago, but I didn't like it so
I've steered clear since. But now his ideas are very interesting.
It seems incredible that I wasted five months in this God forsaken country. I certainly
hope I am sent to a decent climate.
I sun-bathed for a couple of hours yesterday and actually achieved a reasonably accurate
facsimile of a sunburn sort of splotchy, but real. Reminds me of home.
I went to skin clinic (did I tell you? I've forgotten) and was given some green soap,
some sort of sulfa-laden lotion, and an injection of a cc of sterile milk. Supposedly the foreign
protein has some effect. The minor surface infections cleared up rapidly, but the larger deep
nested ones are still bad. It's a start in the right direction however.
Keep in shape and don't try to do too much.
All my love,
Linus
March
31, 1944
