Dearest Sweetie;
That thing I put in the mail this morning must have been swell to read. Couldn’t even decipher it myself, head ached too much to try anyway. Suppose everything there is just like it is here--all hands jumping and yelling congratulations to anything in sight. Have been so happy the last couple of days, can’t do much but smile at everyone. Want to come home now more than every--my how we would relax.--When the party was bending on in full blast last night, kept running around with the words, “Check the arm, not a broken corpusel.” Saw one chap that wasn’t at all happy tho’, he kept drinking an shakin’ his head, muttering, “Hell, I don’t want to go home, I’m married.” Silly Boy. Another old marine was consuming an immense amount of beer and with every draught would chuckle and stammer, “Seven furloughs, seven kids--Ha.” He had the leer of a man who desired the companionship of his wife. Sentimental fellow like myself I guess-Thanked the Lord as soon as we confirmed the peace rumor.
Tonight would be a wonderful time to be together. I’d like to be alone with you for
hours and hours Sweetie. That almost forgotten feel of pressing your softness to my chest and kissing your crimson lips needs another ten thousand exposures. To talk with my gal--we, like so many others, want to be together tonight. The appreciation for having survived, what I believe to have been a rather rugged 3 1/2 years, will soon be forgotten. Mayhaps this is the reason we all wish to get back--I want to hon.
(The radio brings those jitters back, Gad but if they would only sign that scrap of paper) Like Leroy says, “Stop the bloody battle, I’m bleeding all over you.” Or via the Roberts brain, “The teeth were falling like popcorn, whenI suddenly discovered they were mine” (The luck is coming back, I made a 20 dollar pass finally)
Love
Kenny Lee
Kenneth Lee Martin SM1/c
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