June 17, 1942.
I suppose you expected another letter from Miami but I fooled you. I arrived here last Saturday afternoon but we’re under a ten day quarantine so I can’t tell you much about this place as yet.
This place is a pilot training field and ground school. I know I won’t be a pilot so maybe I’ll go to ground school. I’m not studying anything yet and I’m not sure I will. The planes here are in the air all day and all night. I had guard duty the other night from ten till two so I know they fly all night.
I had nothing but the best since I’m in the army. They sent us to Florida in Pullman cars we lived in big hotels, and now we have air conditioned barracks. The tents are open on all four sides. Seriously though I like it better here than in Florida. They don’t push us too hard, the grub ain’t bad but it could be better and we have pretty nice officers.
The city of macon is only eleven miles away and after our ten days are up we can go to town.
I had a letter from Red Pounder about two weeks ago. From my impression I gathered he did not like being an instructor.
That really tickles me about Heffer having to go back to topping. I wish I could be his knitted for a couple days. Boy how I would ride his ass for him. Who is his knitter? Tell him (Heffer) that I wondered whether he was as good and fast as he thought he was, and wanted us to be. I haven’t had a word from Red Moyer. I’m just as curious as you as to where he is. Maybe in hail for non support.
Have any of the old gang left the shop since I’m gone?
It’s pretty hot here today but not as hot as Miami, and at night we use one, and sometimes two blankets, it gets that cool.
I have more letters to write so I’ll say so long.