A carton of cigarettes is always welcome here

jago-jimmy-tammy001

My darlings,

I received your carton of Philip Morris just in time. That was swell Mother and Jocie because a carton of cigarettes is always welcome here.

We have a new school schedule now-I don’t like it very much because we have classes at night. We are constantly on the move from 5:30 AM until 9:10 PM which makes it a very long day.

Our new subject is a very interesting one-Airplane Identification-it is called. We still have physics, math, and code along with it. Physics really has me worried-I’m trying my darndest to make good so if I don’t make the grade don’t think I’m lazy because I’m working and studying every minute we have. There are quite a few fellows in the same situation I am so I guess it isn’t any worse for me than it is for them.

Say Mother I can’t see Mrs. Thornquist because Long Beach is considered out of bounds for the cadets. Some cadets couldn’t act like gentlemen I guess so now none of us can go there.

Gene left for primary training I think-the lucky dog-so I won’t see much of him I suppose. His mother visited him quite a few times I guess. We have drill in a few minutes-if you think St. Thomas’s lines looked good-you should see our parades. A reviewing officer from West Point spoke very highly of our drilling after our last Sunday Parade. Everybody is here for a purpose-so everyone tries his darndest to do everything perfectly. I wish you could come up here for a vacation. I miss all of you very much-just to see you would pep me up 100%.

I wish we could get a leave for two or three weeks. I wish I could have seen Bob Bassamore in his summer whites.

This camp is pretty dead now here due to a large number of fellows leaving for Primary. We are considered the oldest men in the camp now. It’s just exactly 6 weeks we’ve been here. You should hear some of the questions the new men ask us.

Well, my darlings I will try to write as often as possible. I carry your pictures on me constantly wherever I go.

Your loving son,

Jim