January 19, 1944 Wednesday

Dear Honey,

Love you very much tonite, and wish we could be together. We both need the rest it would bring. Hope you are all well now and bubbling over with energy. Don't want to rub it in, but the weather here is sunny and like an early spring day. I am very pleased with Kentucky weather.

You would have liked the little gun we started work on today – the new M3 submachine gun. It's a new version of the Tommy gun, but looks like a Buck Rogers affair. I draw: [drawing of gun with arm and notation “this hump is improvised – don't know how it got there”]

The human arm, so called, is put to show relative size. It is not part of the weapon. These little things are what tank men use instead of rifles. If I go to the armored command, I'll use one. If I go to armored infantry, I'll get a carbine. Both are nice.

That ends today's gunnery lesson. In communications our lecturer showed what he really thought of one of our models of radio. He told how the model was a little old, but was giving excellent service in all theatres, how reliable and rugged and powerful it was. Then the radio suddenly ceased to operate at all for the demonstration. He exclaimed “Dilapidated old thing – beats the hell out of me how anybody runs it.”

This is the rodeo season out west, I guess. At least our cowboys are getting the call of the saddle. The main cry heard over the squad room, apropos of anything, is “Take a deep seat and a long rein and LET 'ER BUCK!” The last is yelled to be heard back in Colorado.

Still wish I could sleep near you for about 50 years, Honey, but guess I'd better get busy. Oh, don't worry about my trying to get restricted or anything. I shall contribute ½ my cerebral cortex and four fingers to get thru this place. It challenges me, somehow. Want to see if I can.

Always all yours,
Wallace