1 February 1943
Camp White, Oregon
Monday Evening

Dear Aunty Clara:

Today I scored 5 times. In Army vernacular, or at least in the lingo which is slung around the Personnel Office, score means to receive a letter. And the letters I received were from you and from Dorothy Lewandowski and from Bob Hesser and from Jimmy Kotek and from Jimmy Kotek. One of the scores from Jimmy was a card saying he was going to write me a letter and the other was the letter itself which he did write.

Boy, we put in a busy day today and accomplished quite a bit of work. And for that effort we were rewarded by having to come back down to work this evening. Most of us, however, have rebelled and are now either typing personal letters or have gone home.

The eye situation is just this: I can see quite clearly now and the eye is no longer tearing as it had been. I find, however, that it is my right eye which is carrying the load for if I close it my vision through the left eye is blurred and obscure. And just think after having perfect vision. Yes, I said perfect vision. The prescription for my glasses came in today for me to enter in my Service Record and believe it or not they classified my visual acuity at 20/20 for both eyes. Something is screwy somewheres. The Air Corps says I had 20/20 in my left eye and 20/50 in my right and now I have 20/20 in both. Another thing the Air Corps said my right eye would have to be correctible to 20/40 at least for the Meteorologist job and here they are going to correct my eyesight to 20/15 in both eyes which is good enough for the Navy or the Marines. Anyhow, that is the way my eyes were. Now, I doubt if I have 20/20 in my left eye and the strain of working my right eye must have reduced it back to its normal 20/50.

I had to go to the dispensary this evening to get another tetanus injection. That makes four tetanus injections although only three have gone down on the record.

I received your box of walnut cookies with the two tangos bars in them this morning and now they are all gone. I ate half and gave half away. Needless to say, they were up to your usually good standard. I might say that this last box was the first one which I received from you which was received in a battered condition. The majority of cookies were broken or broke the instant they were bitten. That did not detract from their tastiness in the least.

I also received my medal today which I enclose in this letter. It comes in two parts. The top part signifies that I am a marksman and the little hangar says that it is in the rifle which I am that. I couldn't get it open to fasten on. Maybe Aunty Florence can tack the two together. This is my first trophy of the war. Hip, hip, hoorah. You will never see me wearing that thing.

I am going to leave this letter at a one page limit this evening and attempt to answer some of my other correspondents. Maybe if I had the opportunity each evening to answer two letters I would begin to catch up. Or would I?

One thing I know I forgot to tell you and I will tell you now is that I saw a storm on Mt. Shasta. The sky was all clear and the mountain was prominent in the horizon. But there was no clear and sharp outline; instead it was a blurred effect and it seemed as if a tight cloud had wrapped itself around the mountain. I assumed that it was a storm raging about its heights.

Getting home from Jennie's at 10:20 is almost like not going there at all.

So long,
/s/ Roman