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May 1 1944

Dear Hedda,

I wrote you days ago that I'm going to write you often and as usual something new happened and again I had to leave it for later on and I didn't write you again for a few days. [By the way don't blame me for being stupid in my letters, writing to you, sometimes, like to a person, I mean like to somebody you have to write to. To be more clear, that's because I don't like to write letters and I write very few, only when impossible to avoid. Your case is special of course, I write to you because I want you to know that I love you always in every day and in every letter. But that doesn't mean that I don't have to think and when I think, only common sense comes out and not much salt. That's what I mean by writing to you like to a "person". You not a person, you're my girl and I'm going to keep you around all the time so I won't have to write you anymore letters when home. I hope you understand me, there's no fun writing I love you, that makes me feel so homesick for you, so tired after the letter, tired like after love in a way and that's no fun. It's fun and a lot more that that to say it to you and do it to you - Dear.

I had a few miserable busy days and I had to drive a lot out in the field. I feel a bit tired and I took this day off.