12/12/41.

Dearest wife;

Good morning my love, stop rubbing the star dust out of your eyes and get on the beam.

It is now 6:30 A.M., cold, snowing and I feel I bit choopy myself now, not having been to bed since 7:00 A.M. yesterday – just an hours nap down at the hangar. I’m propped up against my locker, in bed, with the old pipe perking, trying to scribble a more or less sensible line, amid the din of spit and polish as the other three flights get ready for parade.

I got in three hours studying last night before reporting to the hangar, which was really rather a dirty trick on myself, as all the others were sleeping, but I learned a lot of usefull work and I simply must pass the exams, so I guess it was worth it.

How’s your work coming along? I do hope you don’t have to hard a time with your exams at least I’ll be thinking and praying for you darling. I know you can pass them.

I still spend half my time thinking of that, not so far off, day, when I’ll be with you again and I could walk through any amount of work with that as a goal, so if I can only write a few decent exam papers, I’ll have my wings and be out of here in a few short weeks and on my way home to you sweetheart.

I must stop now and get a few hours sleep, so, as I warned, I have only time for this, as tomorrow will be another long day.

All my love darling,
Your Den.