Saturday May 9, 1942

Ankle worse. Mrs. Bosch giving me treatments.

Beaty here. Baking rolls for camp. So disgusted I have to lie around.

Miss Polley called. Thinks we have been betrayed. So unlike War. Quiet. not very busy streets. Practically no cars. Carromatas, & bicycles & pedestrians.

Once in a while, Jap airplanes over-head. War trucks or a machine gun jolting by. People laughing & talking

Radios – one is about to drive me mad playing & singing the old Southern songs.

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