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Sgt Roman F. Klick 36620923
HS 1393 Engr APO 709
c/o PM SF Cal
13 September 1944

Dear Aunty Clara,

Wednesday

Holy smokes, what a fraud! What a terrible fraud was perpetuated this evening by the 1177th Engineer Construction Group Special Services Officer. Namely and to wit, this fraud of all frauds was perpetuated by the one and the only Lt. Yantis. And what was it? We went down to the theater area and listened to a colored band and orchestra for over an hour with they and us both working under the hardship of being without a PA system. Then came the fraud. Lt. Yantis appeared on the stage and said he had a little speech to make. First he praised the band that just quit the stage and drew for them another round of applause. After that he began getting down to the brass tacks by stating that the 1177th probably owns and has owned more sound equipment than any other outfit on Guadalcanal. Moreover, he goes all the way back to our early days at Camp White, the boat, New Caledonia and finally comes back up to the present, each time detailing the history of all our sound equipment. What it all added up to was that up until this afternoon the sound equipment has always worked or we have borrowed some that does --- but since this happened to be the night chosen by the fates to strike us down, we had no show and we all regustedly walked back to the Battalion Area.

Of course, we didn't lose so much for it got us back to the office in time to listen to two swell radio programs. One was Virginia O'Brien's Personal Album program with her favorite songs --- one of them being the one she sang in her last picture "Meet the People", it was something about her romance being through. We are going to write in and ask her to sing several request numbers which the fellows say she does very well. Have you ever seen her in the movies?

The second program was that spine-tingling drama that stirs your nerve --- Suspense --- in its new mid-week position on the program. This night's performance was swell with Herbert Marshal planning the perfect crime and just about getting away with it until the unforeseen steps in as always is the case. Last night's broadcast from the Hermit's Cave was terrific also. Not only was the story spooky and all that but the Hermit himself was right in there pitching with his monstrous laugh or cackle and his imperative voice saying "Turn out your lights, turn them out, the Hermit shall tell you etcetera." And tomorrow evening is the Inner Sanctum which promises much as these last two if not more.

The time is after nine bells right now and it seems as if we have an ice cold milk and crispy-crunchy cookie party coming up within the hour. Once again, it has been some time since we last had a milk-fest. The saying going around now is "Have a Cookie, Rookie" and the answer is "Okay, Snooky."

Another bit of news is that you can never keep a good Jewish lad down as the irrepressible Marmorstein is proving. His racket of selling necklaces and bracelets for fifteen and ten dollars has died out and the business of painting a palm tree and an address on a coconut for one buck has also hit the rocks. Now he has a sign up on the bulletin board saying that you should see Marmorstein in the dayroom and he will buy anything you have to sell, eversharps, pens, lighters et all and that he pays the highest prices. What he does is go down to the Service Club and there he sets up a stand somewhat on the order of Maxwell street and he hawks his wares at two to three times the price he gave you. Jack got rid of an old pen for twice what he himself had paid for it and Marmorstein said he didn't care if you made a profit for he could get rid of it no matter what the price was. That's where all the guts, nerve, gall and boldness come into play for a timid person could never get into a racket such as that.

We played a trick on the Major this morning by putting his one V-mail letter on top of a pile of about nineteen empty V-mail envelopes. The entire office got a laugh out of it but he said his morale sunk that much lower when he discovered that all those letters were just false alarms.

So-long,   /s/ Roman   Roman