July 30. 1944.
I had a letter from Dick the other day. Says he is going on a weeks leave soon although he doesn’t mention quite when. Very likely I will be getting a weeks leave too starting the end of this week but unfortunately it will have to be spent in the same place as before. I don’t understand why there is this ban on travelling now—it doesn’t seem quite fair as someone in Dicks locality can go just about wherever he should choose.
Yes I did write Peter again but still get no reply so any news of him will be very welcome. I have had no P. T. for ages now other than that from my bicycle. However tennis helped to keep me in shape in June and the first half of July although I never played more than three times a week.
Two nights ago we had a squadron party for all ranks in the entertainment hall. It was quite a do for there was enough beer for everybody to have at least a gallon. You would think that as much beer went on the floor as down the hatch because it was quite sticky moving about toward the end. I didn’t go to the show last night because I figured the place would still smell. These parties are coming too fast. My flat hat is only now recovering from the penultimate one when it was filled with beer by some unknown rat. Usually someone brings out the old dice near the end of the party when the suckers are easy to catch. They don’t catch me anymore though. I once lost $19.40 in your money.
These flying bombs seem to do more damage than you would expect. Dick says he is going to give London a miss on his leave on their account.
With love from
[Editor’s note: Transcription provided by collection donor.]