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[[circled]] 68 [[/circled]]

[[underline]] December "tooth" 1917. [[/underline]]

We're all wishing we could "go to town". The authorities brought us up with a tremendous jerk on Thanksgiving and we haven't got over it yet. I had planned to go to Fort Worth, (via that instrument of torture, the "jitney bus" which isn't a "jitney" at all, but a [[underline]] 50 cent [[/underline]] 'bus) - I had planned to go to Fort Worth, I say, with Charlie Pullman Porter for a good "soaking" hot-bath and a good turkey dinner. The night before we had made requisition for a pass and the same had been granted. All was joy in the prospect and with no early morning flying we could lie abed till the merry hour of eight o'clock - then to town, [[underline]] and [[/underline]] a bath, [[double underline]] and [[/double underline]]  T-u-r-k.

But someone is always taking the joy out of life. An orderly gave out the news directly after dinner Wednesday night that we were all quarantined for two weeks! It isn't much to look forward to, to get into the city, because it [[underline]] isn't [[/underline]] much, but when you are cooped up for