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pg.10

Mokoleia, as I have said, was a city of tents. It was the AACS pool for the entire Pacific Area. It was located beside a macadamized landing strip from which P-38's and P-51's took off. We soon learned to disregard the incessant roar of the planes in the pilot's final training, rat races etc.

The group was split up and placed in different tents and for the next few days we just lay around collecting our equipment. We received duffle bags, mess gear and impregnated clothing as well as a complete supply of summer suntans. We got a carbine with ammunition, blankets, a wicked looking dagger and a mosquitoe [mosquito] net. (The latter proved to be an extreme necessity at Mokoleia.)

There was a group of AACS men in training for a task force strike and the rumors flew thick and fast, Formosa, Iwo Jima, the Chinese mainland etc.(when I had landed at Hickam Field I discovered that I had left my musette bag in the waiting room at Fairfield. It contained my sunglasses, toilet kit which the fellows had given me as a going-into-service gift in August 1942, several dollars worth of air-mail stamps and many papers. I felt the loss rather keenly; I hadn't lost anything before of personal nature since going into service.

Within a few days we joined the afore-mentioned task force group and I was prepared to begin the detestible task of combat training. I had had enough of at Greensboro, N.C. in 1943 and didn't relish the idea of going through it again. However our "training" consisted of playing softball