January 6th, 1942

My leg is really “going to town.” So is Passanante’s. So between the two of us, we are getting some attention. He is really in tough shape. The amputation is good, but the nerves are giving him hell. Lots of scurrying around. Someone said that a patient had hemorrhaged, arm amputation and they are going to give him a transfusion. Another one of the boys is in bad shape, too, I understand. The ship’s whistle blew like Hell today, and come to find out, we crossed the equator. The Captain insisted on paying his respects to old Father Neptune.

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