Sgt Roman F. Klick 36620923
HS 1393 Engr APO 709
c/p SF Cal
10 April 1945
Gosh, what a day. All good too. For one thing I received your V-mail of the 31st of March. For another thing I received the third box of fruit cake cookies. And lastly, I have just now returned from another excellent motion picture.
The cookies sure came as a surprise in this afternoon's mail. I knew at once that a round box like that could be nothing else but cookies but I didn't know what kind they were. The cellophane did not change the taste of the cookies as it did the Mallow delights. Bill Grauel and I ate half a box of them during the show this evening and they were fresh and delicious. Thanks a lot for sending them and they make a swell little snack. (Incidentally, I notice you still pilfer Mrs. Snyder's little cards and envelopes. Imagine if sometime you should make a mistake and send one of those out in a gift to a casual friend).
The picture this evening was once again one of the best ones we have ever seen. It was a tale of suspense which stirred the imagination and tingled the spine. Ray Milland and Majorie Reynolds had the lead roles and it all concerned with the unraveling of a Nazi spy ring in England. Did you see it? That is another one you will not want to miss if you are in the mood for a sinister picture. It isn't spooky as it is mysterious.
It is pretty good how you guessed how come the extra candy from Mrs. Snyder's came to you. That is a pretty logical mind you have and I think that if you ever had really gotten to work in earnest in your younger days and made a career out of it, you would probably be rivaling Aunt-Aunt as a manager of some shop.
Ironic, though that in the last line of today's letter you say, "I hope you didn't have to work Easter Sunday." Ironic especially when it arrives after the workaday Easter Sunday becomes history.
The five day limit on the yellow fever shots for any reaction is now over. If a fellow feels okay after the fifth day after taking the shot, he will not become sick from it and I'm okay now.
The workaday world was so-so today. I have loads of work to do but can not seem to work myself into the mood of urgency to drive myself on to do it all but merely keep plodding away doing what I can. I should really work of an evening or two and try to clear it up. Lt. Ballensinger has some personal work he wants done and he keeps coming in and asking me if I finished it and I have to keep telling him no. I was almost tempted to stop my necessary work today to do that job for him but know it would only get me a bawling out for it from Lt. Suiter who notices whatever a guy is doing throughout the day. It is funny though how working at my desk as Morning Report and Officer's clerk I am distinctly bothered by Lt. Suiter looking over my shoulder and asking infernal questions yet when taking Sackett's place his questions didn't bother me in the slightest. I was of the frame of mind that the Pers Sgt Mjr has a job which consists of working right in with the Pers Officer and that the job means talking it over with him etcetera but as Morning Report Clerk etcetera I just don't feel that he should be bothering me like that. O well, that's the way it goes at work and in my mind.
Say, I'm peeved at those Medics for not listening to be about my finger. Remember about two months ago when we used to have those combat problems and I fell right on my middle finger of the left hand? Well, they just laughed me off saying that there was nothing could be done to heal the finger and that the pain and weakness would go away in time anywhere from two months to two years. Well, something was wrong because the joint has become misshapen and it bulges out as if a fracture was healed or something. But now the damage is done and it is too late to do anything about it. The reason I noticed it was because last night as I was coming to the barracks about twelve o'clock I hit my hand pretty hard against the side of my trousers thinking to knock off a bug I felt there. In doing that my finger hit first and it pained and it felt sore just like it used to and that is how I came to examine it and noticed the deformity.
By the by, I did not write the letters last night to my Aunty Florence or to Uncle Jack. I started one to Aunty Florence and just about finished it when I was distracted by a Reader's Digest magazine and never did get at it again. Therefore, when it was time to check in for the evening all I did was tear the letter out of the machine and throw it away.
Today I was busy at noon time and between four and five reading another Time magazine which Norona received in the mail. In effect, it is as if I get the mag for he gives them to me first to read and he reads them when I finish them. I've cut down on the reading time required for that book by taking in all the highlights at the first reading of about thirty or forty minutes and then giving it another digest of about an hour. In the old days it would require four to five hours of intensive reading to read from cover to cover and not miss a word.
The company has an elegant orientation board outside the Orderly Room. It is a big thing all white, with a red border and electric lights. It has maps of all the fighting fronts and it is brought up to date daily. When something sensational happens, a little card with the news is printed and placed on the floor of the board (it is more like a box about three feet deep) and a ribbon leads up from the news item to the location of the place on one of the five or six maps.
The furlough and rotation talk is going in full swing around here these days and the fellows from the old outfit are dreaming of the time they take their transportation home from Frisco. Since we are authorized travel time besides our fourty/forty-five days, I think I'll take a train this time and take in a bit of the central portion of the states instead of winging over it in an expensive plane. That was okay when the time element was precious.
But all the talk is merely that. It couldn't possibly be before the last week in September or the first of October before any of us get to go and then not all are going to be fortunate in going first. Perhaps next year. Okay?
So-long, /s/ Roman Roman