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(spelling her name wrong again)

August 18, '49

Dearest Delores:

        (How formal can a guy get?) This letter is being pieced together on what is left of my stationary and John Victor's because we are both too cheap to buy any more. Hence the crowded writing and mismatched envelope.

        I would have written a little sooner I guess, except that since the advent of the night shift (I work from 3 PM to 11 PM) I have done nothing but sleep and eat, and, unless you like accounts of sleeping and eating, haven't had anything to write about.

        Thins are really beginning to cost less her in Beloit. For instance, WBEL, the local radio station, was selling silver dollars for ninety-eight cents this morning. They would only sell one to a customer or I would have made a fortune. Oh well, there'll be another way some day.

        How is the second vacation? Some people seem to have all the luck when it comes to vacations but then, when school starts in three weeks, I'll be off on another ten month vacation--so there!

        I have just purchased a copy of "The Basic Writings of Sigmund Freud"--all 998 pages of it, and hope somewhere in it to find something of value in our "case." But how could Freud have known? Sigh--

        I have been swimming several times this week--in crank case oil. We have had to change the main bearings in one of the locomotive engines, which is a job for a submarine. Ruined more clothes in the past few days.

        Have you wondered about the different handwriting--this is the real stuff for me--the other is supposedly more ledgible and not nearly as fast--

        Until my release from bondage next week,

All my love,

Les