4 January, 1943

And so it goes. Scheduled to go to 174 with Miles, pick up rations (?) for Belindah (). We got there OK but dust was so thick we couldn't land. Got back home at 10 a.m. So went on as O.D. at noon.

Nothing much is happening. Had big fest (?) with Smith, Quinn and Staele (?) about their becoming flight officers. I doubt if that will relieve the jealousy so prevalent throughout the group. Smith told how his esteem for Sam raised (?) when Same insisted on staying with the crew when he didn't have to—Remember it!

Letters from Paul and David and Wallace and Donald. Reading 'Wild is The River'—Louis Bromfield. Must advise Stan (?) to read it 'cause its of Louisiana—after civil war carpet baggers, damn yankees, et al. Wimpy too, when I hear.

3 January, 1943

Praise the Lord—at last a letter from home! And a swell one from Lisa, not her usual bent of sarcasm, and one from the Woodl_?_ gang written by Thelma. St_?_ was in S.A. about the 10th and tells Abbie he has received a letter—so he has my address. So I've just written the folks and Gertie— down 100 to go.

Didn't budge from the area today and began inventory for Robeson's (?) stuff. Major says there's a good chance he's a prisoner but being treated all right. Had quite a round with Sam and Ken, who think as the majority has now been convinced about war, world trade and all.

I won't say they're wrong—and I'd be a damned fool to pretend I know what's right. I only wish they'd admit they don't necessarily know the truth either. Because I didn't finish inventory, missed chance to go with Willie Childers to the front for 5 days searching for salvage possibilities—along with the 'shots'. Procrastination, you're man's doom. Wish I could get more enthusiasm. Very good day for M.E.S.

2 January, 1943

See, I'm up to date already. Today it was a repeat on mail run 4 with Quick—and I do enjoy flying with him because I have no inhibitions and am under no pressure.

Tonight: a letter from Kiene (?), forwarded from Hondes (?) and OK of course; and one from Abbie with Wallace's address and mention of Storms (?).

I've finished 'A Street in Moscow' and how I wish I could write like that—although most of those here don't appreciate it. The spirit of Russia, a mal-treated child who nevertheless has faith.

And where is happiness—not for a moment that I don't feel I have it—I have. Doc Tuttle, I'm sure, is the best mind of the bunch. The book says it's in the mind, not material environment, and Truth is built on the 'exceptions…an original idea?

After a bull fest about the raid with Sam Weisbraut (?) and the Colonel traipsing (?) out every 5 minutes, plus his trip, convinced Sam maybe we _?_ have fun after all—as I earlier argued. I hope my mail comes!

1 January, 1943

Deversoir [Aswan], Egypt

So here is one New Year's resolution, launched with the order resulting from Canadian Club and wells of lonliness. Already I must chastise and forewarn myself a procrastinator; for isn't it already January 2 as I write!

New Years eve was spent in typical army fashion—a herd of male animals gathered at the alcoholic salt lick, which all is neither good nor bad. The discussions of late, began with 'sure would like to go back to the states', had a group chorus of bitchin, mostly about staff sarg. pilots and discipline, with a second verse of the typical male bull-fest of sex wishes and histories—on such high level as Ken Quick's ture love and marriage to the basest of _?_ vices. (Don't be a hypocrit, Stod, you hate 'em!)

So I'll turn a page and pretend it's another day. I must get in the groove.

Mail run #4 today with George Amsbr (?), a good joe!