April 13, 1942

Monday Ft. Hughes

I didn’t think I would fall so far behind in writing this, Three days. This is such a helluva life, though, that I don’t particularly care about writing about it. I never felt so loggy so long in all my life – there just isn’t any life in me – I’m tired. When the brushing of teeth, washing of hands, and shaving become such a chore it’s time to quit. I laughed about our infrequent baths on board ship but that was nothing compared to the dust, dirt, and inadequacy of this spot. Moreover we have had no news. The “Jeeps” (as they are known here) continue to bomb and pop away at us.

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