Dear Evelyn,<br/><br/>I was so happy to get your letter! Only about three of us got anything at our first mail call so the fellas all thought I was something else.<br/><br/>I am so sorry to hear about Pete Mabry.  I was stunned. I didn't really know him that well, he was a few years older than us in school, but I do remember watching him at baseball games and he was always good to me when he saw me.  Even being in training, up until now the war seemed so far away, now it's very real and very close to home which is why I take my training so seriously. I made a decision the first day I got here that I was going to do the very best that I could to be the best soldier I could to save as many lives as I could.  Everything I've done since then has been to that end.<br/><br/>Sometimes I feel like I am wasting my time.  I don't want to learn to salute or make a bed, I want to be a soldier. Long marches, runs and obstacle courses are alternated with work details such as picking up trash or digging up a buried cable like we did yesterday. I am taking your advice and keeping my chin up, things should be better in a few weeks when we will be classified and learn what job we'll be doing.<br/><br/>Now that I am in the swing of things - the sergeant says we're at that dangerous point where we've been here long enough to think we know what we're doing - I've been able to get to know the rest of the men in my platoon.  I've never met so many different people before. A good buddy of mine - his name's Tom and he's the funniest joe you could ever meet- he's twenty-two and just graduated from Princeton University.  When I asked him what he did for a living, he said he didn't know. He said he had something called a trust fund. Another man is a devout Catholic, a coal miner before the war and been married for ten years with five children.  He prefers to spend his weekend leaves on the base reading the bible and writing letters.  Of course we have the recluses too.  They slick back their hair and put on too much perfume when they go to town. They come back drunk and make a ruckus.  It is altogether annoying.  Tom and I usually get a steak and take in a movie. But no matter the age or background - we're all the same level in the army - which is to say the very bottom.<br/><br/>Of course I remember your mama's cakes! I don't think I could name anyone on the block who didn't.  Even as I sit here and write this my mouth is set for one of her yellow sponge cakes but there's nothing at the PX - that's the post exchange - kind of like a small general store - that comes close.  I can imagine your papa is upset, he never did take too kindly to being told what he could and could not do. To be honest, I was always a little intimidated by him growing up, even though he was always as good to me as he was to his own children. Is he still working at Monarch? Father told me it had been converted to war production.  It's too bad about your bicycle. You know, I'm not sure, but I think I still have my bicycle hanging up in our garage, I can't remember for sure how good the tires are but feel free to take them if they're good, I'll write mother and tell her you'll be over to get them.  In fact, why don't you keep the whole bicycle? No arguments. You work so hard, I won't have you walking.<br/><br/>Thank you for looking in on Mother. She so does enjoy your visits.  I've received letters with whole paragraphs devoted to descriptions of them.   I should go, they are playing Taps. It's the strangest thing, when it's time to go to bed they don't tell us, they just play music on a trumpet.  I don't pretend to understand it. Write again soon, letters from home are the highlight of my week.<br/><br/>Yours,<br/><em>Jack</em><br/><br/><br/>