Hello Sweetheart;
To you my love, I love. The sheets with the initialed “Few”, tis nice with any name--yours or mine. Today one of our pedagogues recieved his orders for return to the mainland. His first leave in 30 odd months--of course he isn’t island happy or anything. When the O in C said he had two days to square away and pack his gear--he was elated, hell no. He turned around and rather like a little high-school girl, said, “Oh murder.” After that little splurge, he commenced to enumerate the many and varied things yet to be finished. My, my, but one does imbed his feet after a lengthy stay. He’d been around so long, guess he felt that going home was just a hazy vision. What did Patterson say--”Every man with 24 months over hyar or west, gets home after a while with no relief.
Have been listening to a few tales of the west-coast recieving ships. Confidentially hon, it ain’t no place for a man to go. They work like slaves all day and most of the nite--
mess cooks are rated men and such nasty work like that. Honestly Sweetheart kinda hate to come home before the cessation of hostilities. Can’t quite see the brutal method of transferring men--actually I believe a lot of these officers are saddistic. The enlisted man takes more and dirtier dung than anything on two feet. It has forced me to not ship over.--Course there are a couple of other reasons--you hon. Want to feel those fingers in my back--to be tickled, or just a whisper in the ear. A tuft of your locks to tickle my nose--or the perfume you wear to entice me closer. O’course the scents are very unecessary in getting me near. Like a cocker spanial puppy, will spend most of my remaining days dogging your heels. When ever things look black or dull, just spend an extra second or two thinking of you--nicest thing I know. Want you Sweetie--to have and to hold.
Always Love
Kenny Lee
Kenneth Lee Martin SM2/c
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