You Could Fry Eggs on Our Steel Decks

Lieut. Gilbert Steingart
U.S.S. Ocelot, F.P.O. San Francisco
Wednesday 1 August 1945, 5:15 PM
Dearest Eleanor,
          Hello Sweet here is your perspiring hubby again.  The sun's smile has changed to a leer.  Its hot rays beat down unmercilessly on our ship.  It's so hot you could fry eggs on our steel decks.  Out here it is supposed to be the monsoon (rain) season.  Nary a drop in five days.  Maybe tomorrow.
          Had my usual schedule today and worked all morning.  This afternoon I helped organize a softball league.  We have twelve teams on board who will play in inter-division competition with the winner representing the Ocelot against all comers.  Prizes and fun are in store for all participants.
          I counted up my cash in preparation for balancing my mess statement.  After that I censored some mail and finished the mystery story I was reading.  By then it was 5:00 PM so I showered dressed and here I am.  I'm writing before chow because I'm going over to the beach with several officers.  It'll be past midnight before we get back.  Don't worry.  I won't drink too much.  I'll be very careful.
          The mail today brought me the book "101 Years of Entertainment," the collection of mystery and detective stories and the May B'nai B'rith Bulletin.
           "Dodge City."  We saw it together, remember?
          No more for now darling so I'll say so long, until tomorrow your
Hot and perspiring old man,