Aug 29, 1944
Dear Mother,
I have a few seconds before dark. In that few seconds I'll try and convey to you the impression that all is well with your only wandering boy.
I gather from the way night creeps up that summer is nearly over. Soon our time for writing and reading will be limited to a few minutes before chow.
What's all this I keep hearing about certain people getting like butterballs? I don't want to mention any names, but you are right on that first guess as to whom I am referring to.
Doggone I can't seem to find anyone around that I use to know. All the soldiers that pass through this place and not one from Springfield or Pittsburgh. I'll never give up I'll keep on looking.
It has reached the point where I have to stop - called because of darkness.
Love
Kenneth
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