5/20/44 Italy V-Mail
Hi Honey:
Two of your V-mails came today. Honey, I’m not an armchair commando. I didn’t ask to get out of combat, and I tried to get a job in fighter-bombers, medium bombers, and finally in an outfit which flies deep into the heart of Germany without any escort or anything. Now damn it, what more could I do? Honey, I’m not any happier than you are about being out of the show, this last one on Cassino was the first one I’ve missed since I came overseas. But what the hell can I do? I’ve decided that from now on I shall make every effort to utilize my communications knowledge for the benefit of the people down below, and to learn as much as I can. If I should be assigned a combat job, you know damn well it would tickle hell out of me. Kitten, don’t you know me well enough to know I don’t want to sit on my ass? Imagine how I feel playing baseball and watch a flight of 38’s come in after a show, and I don’t even know where the hell they’ve been. Oh, hell, Snooks, I’m a combat pilot, but if they don’t want to use me as such, that is their tough luck. I’ve stuck my neck out for four years, and I’m going to quit volunteering for a while and see what happens.
If you want an apartment, go ahead, but easy. Don’t get it on the idea that I might be home and could use it. That is very wishful thinking. People who do the job just don’t get sent home that easy.
Honey, I love you, but please don’t bawl me out again. It’s rough. Cy.