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bunk, and his pipes and magazines on this table, and when I think that he won't come back I get into that state where I don't want to think. Other friends drop in to talk. I don't want to talk. I ask them to be still on the subject. Lt. Vaughn Raymond McCormick. Good pal, good flier, good fellow ......
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Sept 13, 1:15.
Mac is buried in the yard dotted with crosses and wreaths just a short distance from Evacuation Hospital No. 1. Lt. Col. Johnson, Major Angstrom, Captain Bridgeman, and I followed the flag draped coffin through the ceremony conducted by the Chaplain. Taps was very moving.
Lord it's hard for me to realize he's gone. All his things are before me in this room ......
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The salient is straightened out. Never in my flying days have I encountered such weather. We [[underline]] must [[/underline]] fly. Rain, low thick clouds, high velocity wind. Awful.
Yesterday was a hard day. Mac, and the difficulties of flying in this weather, and lastly - Putnam is missing - presumably dead according to today's report. No use asking God to damn the Huns; they're damned enough already.