Everyday Is Sunday

Sunday, 28 October 1945, 8:30 PM
Dearest Eleanor,
          Sunday, a day of rest.  For a couple of weeks, everyday has been Sunday.  I wouldn't mind a busy Monday for a change.  Most of the officers were a sorry mess this morning.  Such hangovers.  Personally I felt fine and gave them all the ha, ha.
          It rained on and off all day so we just lay around in our hut, played a little cribbage and read.  As you can see, not very much to write about.
          The enclosed snaps will give you an idea of what happened to the Ocelot.  This set of eight cost me $5.00, so hold on to them.  If anyone should want a copy have a negative made up and more prints run off.
          We just got back from the movies.  We saw "Here Comes Kelly."  Why I sat through it a second time I'll never know except there was nothing else to do.
          No news.  There is lots of talk about most installations on Okinawa folding up within the next thirty days.  Scuttlebutt usually has some basis, but I don't go for that kind of stuff anymore.
          I'll sign off for now and hope that in a day or two I'll have some good news to write about for a change.  Goodnight Darling.
Love,
Gil