I'm now writing from the Service Club, one of them in Camp Blanding, for the camp is huge and there are a great many scattered over a wide area. After seeing nothing but bare barracks for a wk and not leaving the company street, mind you, this place is palatial. It looks like a large dance hall with a balcony all around the room with white waxed floors and a bare mural in the process of being finished on one of the end walls. The scaffolding is still up. The chrome and black tables of imitation onyx gleam and shine and letter writers sit in the comfortable and modern leather chairs. I marvel that I am here at all for they finally lifted the restriction as a reward for the way our company, newly formed and numbering 180 men without officers, passed inspection which is held strictly in accordance with the minutest rules in the manual even to the way in which the toothbrush is placed, and which is conducted by a Lt. Colonel who reminded me of Gary Cooper because of his long, lean gauntness. He praised us for our expertness which we had acquired in such a short space of time. It took backbreaking labor to accomplish this, believe me. So after showering, washing my fatigues, socks, etc. I beat a path down here to try and get you on the phone. But a call takes from 4 to 5 hrs to get through and since it is already 9 o'clock I am doing the next best thing, writing. I walked up here with a fellow named Hoecke who is a time study man, whose appearance belies this bigsounding title because of his short haircut and his boyishness. I get along with all the fellows very well and am well liked but I've found no one like Vinnie who I sincerely miss. But the people with me now are of far higher intelligence than those back there in the rifle company. I feel as though I were back in college sometimes. Our training as you've probably grasped by now is strenuous but magnificent, equipping us well for the tasks we may be called on to perform. The only thing lacking is the affirmative faith, derived from political consciousness, which is so necessary, so vital for a great unconquerable army. I get no papers, nor could I read them if I did get them for the reason I don't have to repeat. The only news we get is that which is read to us by our platoon leader, LT. Carter who resembles Dave Bickel in features only, during breaks which are 10 minute recesses between classes or drills and which are usually condensed to 5 min or 3 min. This is a mimeographed sheet with a sketchy summation of the days news. There is a pretty little spinet here upon which some soldier is beating out some keenly appreciated notes. I do miss music and wish I could hear any damn thing. A hundred or more soldiers are sitting around, doing what soldiers mostly do, writing, drinking sodas etc. Two girls, wives or sweethearts, sit with their men causing all the rest, I'm positive, to burn with envy, just as I'm doing. Lucky bastards. But patience, desire of my heart, patience and steel. A fellow sitting next to me is telling me that of all the parts in the infantry the Message Center is the easiest. He says that after the first 6 wks the pace although plenty tough, slackens down. Personally I'd just as soon it would continue at the present pace.
When are you going to send me a picture of yourself. Don't keep me waiting, please, satinskin. Perhaps you could even send me pictures of my family and yours with all the kids that you could take yourself if you get a camera and even a shot of K.V.* on a Sunday morning about the time I'd be going down for breakfast. I'll find out as soon as I possibly can about that plan I wrote you about and how soon we can bring it to fruition.
They've just put out the lights. I'm finishing this letter out on the porch. No well so deep as my love, darling. I'm learning constantly. Things are changing values and relations. How much you mean to me and for me is becoming very clear.
Goodnight. Sleep well
Your Joe
*ed. note: Knickerbocker Village - the large apartment complex they lived in, in New York City.
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