My orders came through this afternoon. My transfer to the new post is approved. I will leave by plane as soon as it can be arranged, quite likely tomorrow. My next letter is likely to be from APO 948.
The change is coming just in time. It will probably save me, at least temporarily, from the epidemic of GI-ism endemic here. The disease may spread to all posts in the Aleutians but I hope to be able to retain my semi-civilian immunity at least a while longer.
The latest mark on the fever chart was the announcement that hut inspections by the officers will start on Saturday. This will be salubrious in that really efficient cleanings will be done at least once each seven days. But we all expect it to lead straight to a hospital-like, barracks-like, like-nothing-else-in-the-world regimentation of bed arrangements. As a literate corporal commented tonight, "It's bad enough to be celibate without having to be sterile."
|Bacall and Bogart marching in support of the Hollywood Ten|
There is a rather interesting article on Humphrey Bogart in the Life on June 12--a bit too heavy on the Luce style of goshgeewhiz adulation, but with some pretty good cracks. It seems that HB and Mrs. B battle joyfully in their spare time. One day in running away from a crowd of autograph hunters (and muttering "filthy little monsters" as he ran) HB slammed the car door in his wife's face. "Why you cheap little ham actor," she started and gained momentum with each syllable. The kids listened in awe. Finally one shut his autograph album with a snap and said reverently, "Gee, she's even tougher than he is."
I must get some sleep, my darling. More tomorrow.