4/1/40
Brooks Field, Tx.
Angel:
I spent another week-end with the folks. Annie Claire and I heard (and saw) the St. Louis Symphony Saturday night. I saw it three times at school and it is really wonderful.
Today I was a hot pilot. It was windy (gusts of 30 mph and better) and rough as a son-of-a-gun. So when everybody else went haywire, I got hot. It’s always been that way with my flying. I flew two hours of observer time and 1:20 under the hood. I found the new beam just installed at Yokum (no bunk), flew it into the S.A. beam, and then flew the latter into the field. Then I went out and worked an orientation problem on the S.A. Beam. It was the best day’s flying I have ever done. Keeping a level keel on instruments in rough air sure is fun, although it takes a lot of good work.
We started skeet shooting this morning. This goes on until we shoot 250 rounds of the stuff. It’s great sport, but so what. A couple of hours of baseball would do more good.
If the overcast hadn’t settled in we would have started night flying tonight. A couple of flights were made before it dropped down. We fly 3 zones and 3 layers here. The new field lights are the nertz.
This town ain’t got nothing! Will you get me:
6 11 ½” x 9” (approx.) brown envelopes (to clear 8 ½ “ x 11” paper)
1 box erasers (per sample—which is worn out)
And have them sent down Air Mail. Officers must buy their supplies from Sears Roebuck or something down here. It’s rather urgent. Would like by Saturday if possible. Incidentally, Special Delivery gets here one day later than without same.
We’re still wearing our wool shirts, which sounds ok up there, but not so good here. It was over 80 today, which was normal. The big event of this day is the shower I’m going to have in a few minutes.
I’m not sure, but I think a lot of this “no marriage allowed” business is fluff. If it isn’t, we may be stuck, but I’m still all in favor of it. Time will tell.
I get a kick out of your discussions with Mammy. Pop would probably bust if he knew. I wonder what he’d do if he knew we’d talked about them two years ago. It has been two years, and long ones, but not nearly as long as the two before that.
Martha says she wishes she’d married me. She says I squeal better than Mickey does when she punches me in the ribs! I wish I was up there so you could get in my hair (and ribs). It’s time for that shower. Goodnight, baby girl.
Lots of love, Cy.