p51  May 29, 1942 . . . .

Monday. There are now five days until Graduation and, d‑n Hitler, Furlough. That is, Furlough for us lame, halt, and blind; our strapping young classmates will start making life miserable for various and sundry bird life all over the nation. Somehow or other I have a faint uneasy feeling. I quite realize that twenty-five days are better than none and I'm afraid the Tactical Department does also. A terrible mental picture has been sticking in my mind of late. The Corps is formed in a hollow square and the adjutant has finished reading the make list. He is just getting ready to say "Furlough Class fall out" when the Tactical Department steps forward en masse, nudging each other slyly. Then, giggling so hard they can hardly prospect, they march the class of '44 down to the North Athletic field where each man draws a grenade and once more the old words "Pull pins, prepare to throw, throw" ring out.

Tuesday. Academics are now over. At last I am out of the noisome clutches of the English department even though I left my youth in their rank section rooms. Also I have slipped through the fingers of the Mathematics department. They on their part deprived me of any confidence I might have had in banks by making the number system a living lie to me. The Physics department, although underhandedly changing its name, will still be much with us next year as will the drawing department.

Wednesday. In one of the five minute breaks between parades today my other wife asked me if the second recognition really counts. I just did not have the heart to tell him. Three days to go.

Thursday. Today I have been reminiscing. During the many years since I first entered this establishment as a very unhealthy little boy I have acquired many memories, some of which will disturb my nights and cause me to wake up screaming when I am a very unhealthy old man.

Friday. We got away although I heard some blood hounds baying in the distance a few minutes after our departure. Evidently they did the sporting thing and gave us a short head start. My wives and I are now in New York for a few days until my wives have to report to their air schools and/or my money is spent.

Saturday. We passed an interesting and highly entertaining evening, night, morning and forenoon. My sane wife is no longer with us I am sorry to say as he attempted to report a policeman for "Scratches in Badge". Long habit, excitement, and the fact that today is Saturday all combined to make him forget where he was. If one can believe what passes for a Battalion Board in this strange new world he is going to know exactly where he is for quite some time to come. My other wife leaves this evening for his air school and therefore is impatient to move on. He is now practi­cing outside loops, so far unsuccessfully.

Sunday. My other wife has now gone, I saw him off last night. I fear me that the people who get him will not recognize him as late yesterday he became very irritable and pugnacious and when he caught himself making faces at himself in a mirror he flew into a rage and fought himself to a standstill. Anyway, now he is gone and I am free from all worries. The prospect of summer camp is still days away. Life is sweet.

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