Sun. P.M.

Dearest Mother,

I suppose you wonder why I haven't written you in the past week. The truth is I have had a bit of bad luck. To make it short the inevitable has happened-I've washed out. It happened a week ago today. We had just started to use runways the day before and they had cleared the field of snow where the runways were. After I landed I hit some ice on the runway and started to slide sideways off the runway. The undercarriage was sure to break off if it kept like that so I straightened it out and let it go off the runway. I was partly stuck in the snow and ice so had to use a lot of throttle in getting back on the runway. In doing this it kicked ice onto the wing and large holes were made all along the trailing edge in the fabric. The next day I was called up in front of the O.C. of our squadron and was told I had washed out. Of course I told him exactly what had happened and that it wasn't my fault but it wasn't any good. The truth of the matter is that the instructors wanted to get more guys out so they wouldn't have to do so much work. They were using any excuse at all and I happened to be the guy who got the pot. That makes a total of 15 who have got the axe. It hit me pretty hard at first and I thought the world might just as well come to an end. I'm at least satisfied that I can fly as good as any other bozo up there. I have hopes of remustering again.

I was brought up in front of a selection board and put my choice in as a bombardier-you know the guy who makes the bombs fall on the target. I got it O.K. I'; leaving for Brandon manning pool tomorrow where I will wait for a posting to a B&G school. It's a 16 week course and will be sure to get overseas.

Dad, Gordon and I were together last night and I went and stayed with Gordon afterwards. Right now we are in the service club and it's almost time for supper.

Your loving son,
George