Dere Knothead,
Or maybe I should say you ol’ goat. The last letter I received from you was so long ago that it seems like another age. That’s kind of poetic, huh? But I don’t feel poetic at all. In fact I’m really down in the dumps. Really feel low and woebegone. Not so much that I haven’t had a letter from you because the mail is fouled up in the rear area and I hope you’re still writing although I wonder--though your last letter was really nice, but I’m feeling low because I’m kind of homesick and wish I were home going out to a nice place to eat and maybe a show or dancing but I’m here in this goddamn place and I’m tired and sick and scared and I don’t think I’m feeling sorry for myself this time because I believe two wars is too much for one man to take without a solid basis on which to return. I’m fed up with the Army and their way of existing. I’m tired of a tent and of the damn bugs that seem to be everywhere. The chlorinated water is foul and the food is hardly better. There’s nothing to do in the evenings but stagnate. I can’t seem to think coherently anymore. The things I learned in college have evaporated to the extent that I feel completely lost and I wonder what I’ll do when I get home.
I feel a little better now that I’ve told you and gotten it off my chest but it’s still in my system. Maybe it will go away tomorrow and maybe I’ll get a letter from you tomorrow. The way things look I’ll be in Tokyo sometime between the 10th and 12th of September. You should be in San Fran then so be expecting a call. And don’t forget to give Mom a call when you reach San Fran. Her number is now--I don’t have it, but her address is 1850 E. San Antonio St. San Jose.
Okay hon, please write real often. Bye for now
[written in pencil on the margin, presumably in my mother’s hand]: Clayborn 85548
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