Feb. 17, 1942.
I hope you feel a little better today then you did Sat. I’m sorry honey—I sure am sorry. I wish I could be with you when you are feeling kind of low, when I’m feeling low also.
Well this is the 17th. One of the 10 shipping days for us fellows. That leaves 9 more days to worry about.
Ha—Say my dear—If having to “go” causes you to finish a letter you’ld better start writing in the Privy like I do—Ha. Just kidding Honey—I don’t see how anybody could be anymore faithful
then you have been. I appreciate it too—knowing that someone is thinking of me as I think of her.
Don’t worry about your letter not helping to keep the morale of the Army up. It will keep mine at a higher point then anything else I know of.
Boy—I waded mud today till I’m so damn tired I don’t which end’s up. We had our leather boots on and then heavy rubber artics—and I do mean muddy. And after 50 or 60
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guys walk over the same path in mud it surely does get gooooooeeeey.
We may have to fall out at midnight and find our way around thru the hills with a compass and map—Pitch black—won’t that be something—Some of the guys (I
‘m think I can do it) will probably wonder in the hills till morning—Ha—Hope I don’t.
Well guess I will close for tonight.
I love you
x Walt x (- —- —)