Dearest Mother & Ruth
Well here it is Sunday night and of course there is nothing doing at all. So I guess my best plan is to write letters.
Oh by the way will you send me Uncle Franks right address so I can write him one of these days.
For the last three days I have been trying to get in a little flying time but everything seems to be against me. Either my pilots sick or the aircraft is unserviceable it is starting to get me down because I'm just iching to get flying again.
At present my mid upper gunner is in the hospital with a cold, I went to see him tonight and he is looking good, and his temperature is back to normal again, but he isn't getting out of the hospital, so I'm beginning to wonder things.
Do you know if Norm is still in England? I haven't heard from him in a long time and I was wondering if he was still in this little bit of dirt.
For the last three days I haven't done a thing except sit around and clean the occasional gun. This monotony is beginning to get me down.
As you can plainly see I can't think of a darn thing to write about, but I guess you will be glad to know that I am still alive and kicking at everything and everybody.
How is everybody in the neighbourhood? And if you ever see Bill around tell him to write to me, and another thing if he doesn't write soon I will beat his brains out with a teaspoon and play the "Warsaw Concerto" on his teeth with a sledge hammer, that had better scare him into writing.
Well it seems as though I can't think of anything more to say. One of these days I will write a decent letter that is if anything exciting ever happens that I can write about. Well I will sign off now.
Lots of Love