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pg.14

wooden building with good sound, fine seats and a large screen. With the aid of a fine library, I began to catch up on my long neglected reading. The 549th Nite Fighter Squadron, also at this field, produced a fellow whom I knew from my basic training days at Greensboro, N.C. The food here w was good - the last week or so we had steak several times but the refrain "fattening up for the kill" stuck in my mind.

Finally we were told to be ready to move the following morning. I oiled my gun, checked my ammunition, water-proofed my gas mask, packed my duffle bag (discarding some personal clothing which I didn't want to carry) and rolled my pack. Several days prior to this I had started to receive mail - mail which had been following me from APO to APO.

The morning we left for the pier it rained and I soon was soaking wet. Boarding ship took several hours but little did I know, when I reached the top of the slippery gangplank, that it would be one month before touching dry land again. Even if I did know it wouldn't have changed things.

The next day, Feb. 5th, we slipped out of sunny, mined Pearl Harbor and headed west. The next thirty days were the most uncomfortable I've ever spent.