June 27, 1942

Phooey on my luck, I have a honey of a case of dengue and believe it’s high time to make out my last will and testament. Ann has the dengue, too. She said, “I’m sorry we didn’t die in action instead of as prisoners of the Nips”. Most of the time I like Ann’s sense of humor, but at present it leaves me cold. We decided that in some respects we are each a Scharlett O’hara: that we’ll never be afraid of any situation, that we’ll never be afraid of anything after this, and that we’ll never be hungry again.

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