January 14, 1941

Fran starts his letter to the family with a bit of poetry about Cuba. He concludes with a request for Eddie’s shorts so he can go swimming.

January 14, 1941

Cuba ……

Throbbing with life in lazy tropic time …
Land of the Sun with rain
Sobbing its strife thru hazy tropic clime
Where passions begun end with pain.

Ma, also
Aya:

    The answer to your query.  I do receive a sufficient amount of letters - for which I am very grateful.

    Those shorts of Eddie’s: Please retract my original statement and send them over right away? They’ll arrive in time to use them. They’re more practical than a bathing suit… And, if Eddie objects [givin such?] maybe next summer he’ll be able to buy one … Okay? … Tanks!

(please is ever bad form…)

Health: good (very)

Physical: Appearance same as usual except tan.

Morale: Okay. You have the wrong impression about me. I may have been wailing about how tough it is, but please understand that I am a marine and I can take it. You know what I did today? Swatted flies. Yep, I sat (mostly in my bunk) and swote (post tense of swat) away. Tough? (sneer)

     Funny thing about sailors & marines, they fight like cats and dogs but when friendships spring up they’re very deep. Marines and sailors often get in trouble with natives, but when they do they stick together.

     I’ll bet Henry would’ve got seasick on that ocean … up and down … up and down …. Up … and down……….

[squiggly line indicating ocean waves]