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Cpl Roman F. Klick 36620923
Co "A", 353rd Engr Regt
A.P.O. #502, c/o Postmaster
San Francisco, California
29 September 1943

Dear Aunty Clara,

Wednesday

Upon reading any of the letters I have written, a few hours after writing, I find that I am thoroughly dis-satisfied with them. Especially those letters which I write to you. I leave out punctuation marks, works and even entire sentences. I may be writing along thinking of something and then put down the next, connecting idea. Thus you have two sentences without a link which either is ununderstandable or just gives the impression of poor grammar. But I suppose that is that fault of stagnating in this Army, plus the mass production method of writing letters and plus the hurry in which they are written. Back in civilian life it would require a week's contemplation to begin writing the letter and then it took all of one evening to draft, redraft and finally write the letter itself.

The news broadcast this evening wasn't very enlightening or helpful except that the 8th Army captured Foggia, an important airbase on the east coast of Italy. Each day I keep hoping that some new smashing victories will be reported thinking that one miracle after another will happen to shorten this war down to a point where we can see the end. Instead we have the eventual bog downs with the insignificant gains which make the outcome seem so far away. If the war were to end today it would not be until next year that our release from the service would come. If the war goes into the Spring of 1944 (which it is almost as certain to do as time and tide), it will mean that we will be in the army for sure until sometime in 1945. It is incredible that such a long time shall yet elapse before victory is ours yet it could be worse. 1947 or '48 could roll around before our eventual release from the Armed Forces. In connection with that very thing (since I have the time this evening) I am writing to you a special V-mail as of this date.

But time still passes by in minutes and seconds in our present day lives. And those minutes and seconds are filled with activity of one sort of another. For instance, Mersing has switched to another job. For two weeks he was working with the rest of the company and now he has become a chauffer for Lt Hanton.

And Larry seems to have struck in rich as, for the second day in a row, he received a package in the mail. Today's package was from his wife. It was a box of cookies with four small jars of jam.

The Chaplain has had his portrait painted for $20 in town and his is the first painting which does the person concerned complete justice. It is the spitting image of the Chaplain and if I could be assured of an equally good job, I would go to town at my first opportunity for a sitting. But to spend twenty bucks and have it pan out bad doesn't seem to be such a hot idea.

Do you still work that idea of yours on the pulley line where the dirty one stays up when you don't use the line and the clean on is put up when you do use it? Pretty soon the clothes hanging season will be over as far as the outdoors are concerned. Then the kitchen will be the drying room plus the added space in back of the dining room stove. I was reading an advertisement a few days ago which described this light-weight iron which manufactures steam and sends it shooting out to cover the entire surface of the iron. Only a few thousand were sold before the war curtailed production but of those sold there have been remarkably few complaints. Was that the iron you used to talk about and tried to get but couldn't?

I read a very good article about the Pan-American Airways in a magazine today. From all indications there is going to be a mad scramble after the war to put airways over every nook and cranny of the globe. That will mean a lot or Air Corps men are going to remain in those jobs as civilians. I wonder which George is going to choose, photoengraving or navigation. For that matter what am I going to do after the war? Go back to Rathborne, open a business or go to day college and finish that last remaining year?

So-long,
/s/ Roman
Roman