17, 1954
Dear Mom, Dad, and Snapper
Just a few lines to let you know I am fine. It’s rained all day today and it hasn’t stopped yet. I took the noon relief down to relieve the guard at dinner for an hour and it rained hard. Water was running off my rain coat on to my pats and down in my boots. I had more water in my boots than on the outside. I am not a guard tonight but will be tomorrow from midnight till 8 AM. Think I will go to the club tonight. I forgot to tell you in my last letter that the day Arkie left he sent over his mattress and mosquito net. He sure likes me. He tried to give me everything before he left.
Yesterday a guard we had a little excitement. There is a little settlement next to the Pier and they have beer for a couple of hundred years I think. They had been stealing things so the army put barbed wire around the village and wouldn’t let them in or out trying to make them move. They were starving them. An old mama san through rocks and swore at us and she would chew on the wire with her teeth. She bit one guard’s finger and she even would wrap her self up in the barbedwire when someone would try to get her away. She was doped up I think. The MP men were there and all kinds of people around. I was the Sgt of the guard on the Pier so I had to be there. She finally cooled down. They are moving now.
Well that’s about it. I’ll write you again tomorrow.
Lots of Love, Ted
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