Jabbering Hens

Sunday 30 July 1944

Dearest Eleanor
     It is less than 10 hours since I kissed you goodbye and I'm already beginning to miss you.
     The train ride back was very quiet except for the jabbering of a couple of old hens behind me. However in spite of them, I dozed off for a little more than an hour and felt quite refreshed. I came aboard at noon after visiting with the watch officers at the clinic for a few minutes.
     Not a thing to do all afternoon but walk around the ship and visit with some of the officers in the ward room. I did have lunch aboard. A little more salad than the base mess. Steak with French fries, string beans and apple pie a la mode for dessert made up the balance of the meal. It is now almost six and time to eat again but I am not a bit hungry.
     Sweet, I'm afraid that we will be shoving off the same day that you are planning to return to San Diego, so our next meeting will be in the form of a real reunion.
     Kiss my girls Linda and Norma for their Daddy because he is going to miss them and you so much.

Love,

Gil

The ship--USS Ocelot--1944

A Record

Tuesday 29 February 1944, 1720 o'clock

Dear Eleanor,

     The same routine again today.  Worked all morning, lunch at 1130, volleyball at 1200, back to work at 1300 and plugged away all afternoon.  At 1530, instead of the regular lecture, we were shown pictures of the different types of ships and their armament and a reel on first aid aboard ship.  Went to chow at 1700 and back here at the clinic twenty minutes later to write my daily note to you.

     I got another letter from you today.  That makes three in two days--a record.

     I'm going to go to town tomorrow noon and place an ad for a place to rent.  If there are no results, I'll contact Sipper's friend at the Grant.  Or should I see him right away?  I'll discuss it with you by phone tomorrow.

     Don't know what I'll do tonight.  Saw "Lady and Monster" last night--a very interesting movie but you wouldn't like it.  It is also on tonight.  Taylor and Gilman are going downtown.  I may join them.  I'll see later.

     I really feel good today and hope that you and the kids are O.K. too.  Four more days and I'll be home and this is going to be a hard weekend.

Love,

Gil

Riot Act

Tuesday 8 February 1944, 1710 o'clock

Dearest Eleanor,

     Another day and nothing new to talk about.  Oh yes.  At our daily indoctrination lecture the riot act was read to the officers.  It seems that in this democracy the enlisted men don't count.  In other words we were told to demand strict respect and decorum in the clinic.  This really is going to take a lot of the fun out of our work.  From what they tell me, the same thing happens every so often.  Then for a week or two everything goes G.I. and then we'll drift back to the old way of doing things.  Don't misconstrue that this is anything I did.  It was simply a general condition existing in the clinic.

     I've been looking in the "houses for rent" columns. If I see anything interesting I'm going to run it right down.

     Received your letter and my first set of questions.  That 3.97 is better than anyone here has ever received.  They say 4.0 is just never given.  Well, I'll try and find out.

     Will probably go downtown tonight and make hotel reservations.  If not tonight, I'll go tomorrow night.  The corpsmen are making so much noise I hardly know what I'm writing, so I'll say adios, my sweet. As ever

Yours,

Gil

On Watch

Tuesday 18 January 1944

1900 o'clock (7:00 P.M.)

Dear Eleanor,

    Good news--will be home Friday night.  I'm on "watch" tonight.  When you're on watch on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday night you get 72 hours leave.  Watch means that you're on duty all night but probably nothing will happen.  We have a nice bed and the corpsmen take care of it.

    Bob Hope and his troop are on the base tonight, and I can hear the broadcast over the public speaker system.

    I finally got all my papers taken care of and began work this afternoon.  I started with what we call the "carriage trade," a commander.  Today, I visited with the men at the auxiliary clinic on the other side of the base.  Things are very quiet now because there aren't many ships here.  They come and go all the time.  When they're here, patients must be taken care of and in a hurry.

    Everyone here says I'll have a hell of a time getting back to the base by train or bus on Sunday night.  Men begin to line up at 4:00 P.M. and all they talk about is getting back.  I'll probably have to pick up a "junk heap" soon.

    Note my address on the envelope.

Love to all,

Gil

Clipping from the Evening Outlook 

  

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