Here's a few lines to let you know that I'm regularly receiving "the only newspaper interested in Ellsworth."  My latest change of address is a little quonset hut accommodating twelve guys.  My bunkmates are a bunch of swell fellows and we have a lot of fun as well as work.  We of the 27th Special Battalion are the twentyseventh stevedore battalion to go through Camp Peary in the last year and a half.

Those already overseas are setting new records all in unloading ships at various Island X's and we're determined to uphold the C.B. tradition of doing the "impossible."

     Virginia is an unusual state, especially in February.   It oftens rains at night, snows in the morning; and rains again in the afternoon.  I'm finding that a mud puddle is a very unsatisfactory place to lay in while shooting a rifle, but it makes a bullseye all the more sweet.

Well, here's hello and so-long to all you folks at home.  Thanks for the letters and cards.   I'll try to get them all answered eventually, so good-bye for now.

P.S. I hope the old water tower light is still burning;  I know what a problem replacing it is in the winter.

I've been here at Hueneme, California since April 9, and have been busy most of the time firing my new rifle and learning the stevedoring trade which is a much broader field than dumping boxes and crates into the hold of a ship as I supposed it was.

I'm driving a hydraulic lift truck and like it fine, especially when it comes to lifting big two-ton crates as easily as you lift that second morning cupajava.

     I've been to Hollywood and met some of the stars I used to hike three miles to see on the screen, and contrary to general belief, they were even better in real life than in pix.   Some of them were Red Skelton, John Garfield, Celia Parker, Shelia Ryan, Ann Shirley and Ann Miller.

I'm going to the ball game today, so good-by for now.   Camp Cook is here to challenge the Hueneme nine and they're strong challengers with the team built around veteran Red Ruffing.

Believe it or not it's me. It's been so long since I've written, you may have forgotten I even existed.

     First, I must tell you who found me the other day.   None other than Wendell Peterson.   I was certainly surprised. We are sitting here together now, writing.   Wendell pulled in about the same time we did, and we were tied to a repair ship. He thought I had been sent to the states, but would see if I was aboard anyway, and certainly glad he did.

     Day before yesterday, Wendell and I were talking about the boys from Ellsworth, out here, and today I got mail and news of Merle Marcus and Maynard Nelson.   Certainly too bad.  So far, out here, I've met Mervin Johnson and Walter Sevold of Radcliffe.   I've seen Lavon Peterson's ship, but haven't been able to see him.

It's been some time now since I've heard from Kuhly or Lyle.  I hope they don't have to come out here.

     This is getting pretty lengthy, so guess it's about time to knock off.  Things are getting pretty rugged out here; that's about all I can say.  I only hope, as we all do, that's it's over pretty soon, and we can all come home.  After nearly two years out here, the states is something to dream about.