[image ALT: Much of my site will be useless to you if you've got the images turned off!]
mail:
Bill Thayer

[image ALT: Cliccare qui per una pagina di aiuto in Italiano.]
Italiano

[Link to a series of help pages]
Help
[Link to the next level up]
Up
[Link to my homepage]
Home

[image ALT: link to previous section]
February 12

This webpage reproduces a section of
The Collected Works
of Ducrot Pepys

by
Ronan C. Grady

Newburgh, N. Y., 1943

The text is in the public domain.

This page has been carefully proofread
and I believe it to be free of errors.
If you find a mistake though,
please let me know!


[image ALT: link to next section]
March 12
This site is not affiliated with the US Military Academy.

p68 February 26, 1943

Monday. We are still on week‑end. It is Washington's birthday and my other wife, having obtained a little hatchet from someplace, has gone out with the avowed intention of chopping down a blond. I do wish that he had taken with him a certain strange friend of his who accompanied him back to our hotel room last night and who is here with me now. It is a well-known fact that I am a broadminded man, but I draw the line at people who sit on the ceiling, and whose eyes are a bright orange.


[image ALT: A drawing of a young man on a city street — a large car behind him, and a stoplight — wearing a long military cape and a curiously coy expression but holding a small hatchet behind his back; he seems to be advancing on something in a stealthy way. It is a cartoon of a West Point cadet on leave in New York City, trying to catch himself a girl.]

". . . chopping down a blond."

Tuesday. West Point again. We have lost my other wife's odd buddy. He returned with us yesterday, but the last I saw of him was in the afternoon when he went floating up to report to the O. C. Some practical joker seems to have slipped a small gopher into my left ear at some time during the past week‑end.

Wednesday. The drawing of branches comes on apace. My other wife says that he is not particular about which branch he gets. Which is just as well because he stands a good chance of getting ranked into the Weevil Destroyer Corps. My sane wife is a secret example of one of life's little tragedies in the making. He wants to go into the Intelligence Service. The idea of instructing female spies into the best methods of coaxing military secrets out of reticent enemy generals seems to fascinate him. I, myself, am still uncertain as I can not decide which branch colors go best with my sad brown eyes.

Thursday. If the Law Department is correct about the various kinds of torts, someone we all know and love, is about to be sued within an inch of life. Mainly upon the count of False Imprisonment.

Friday. It is beginning to appear as I might last this Winter out after all. I must send Freezone a testimonial.

Saturday. Achilles, who was a military man of note, when feeling a little bitter would go and sulk in his tent, and people would do everything in their power to cheer him up. Times have certainly changed. Today all that I did was pout a little in ranks and everyone was most unkind.

Sunday. I love life and I want to live. I wonder when I will be able to start.


[image ALT: Valid HTML 4.01.]

Page updated: 16 Aug 12