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.
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