9/3/44 Corsica
Hold your shirt:
What a wind! I’d like to castrate the guy who picked out this camp site. It is situated on a hump in the mountains which intercepts all of the air that moves in the northern Mediterranean. The result is a funneling effect which is a doozy. It is 30 mph steady with gusts to 60. Naturally, all canvas is down. We’ve bitched for 2 months for the 16 pegs per tent we should have and never gotten but 6. This fucked up hq has no more idea of how to live outdoors than the Oak Park women’s club has. I was on a flat plain with winds like this last year and never lost a single tent.
P.S. All the secret files are blowing around hill.
I sent $500 to the bank today. That should leave $250 for furniture, as I presume we have at least the 1000-1000-500 bank balance I stipulated. How about sending me a rough monthly statement of how much is in the checking account at end of month (with all bills paid and the following month’s allotment not yet added?) It will help me plan a bit.
Doc Aiken wants me to go to Harvard or M.I.T. I think Harvard is the best deal. I can’t get interested in going back to smudgy old Lafayette. That would probably be a bit less expensive, but I think the theoretical reputation at H plus the boilermaker brawn from P.U. should have good sale value.
I took a knife and scraped the corrosion off of my old leaf today. There are a few advantages to being a high ranking major over a very young Lt. Col. At least there are no snipers behind my back.
Well, Honey, the wind is more than I can combat.
All my love, Kitten. Cy
Tell mother I’ll write when I’ve got a little more zip.