Friday, April 28, 1944
“No rest today. 3 exams tomorrow. Everything is going fine as far as the exams are concerned if only this damn Bivouac were called off,” my father wrote in the letter we just got. “But today they handed out tents, shovels axes, etc + tomorrow we’ll get blankets, canned rations etc.” Learning to camp out is part of my father’s training, one he doesn’t particularly enjoy. But you can see from the training film how important it is. He added, “Maybe it’s good you’re not here. I’d be crying on your shoulder all night – crying because all I seem to be able to do is skim over the subjects and then get all het up waiting to take the exams – That’s the worst thing about exams – the long wait between studying and actually taking them.” He then describes his dinner: canned shrimp on bread with mayonnaise, cheese, and coffee. “Not bad – anyway, I’m full.” Better not tell his mother about the shrimp. She is strictly kosher. That means no eating shellfish.
Light the Sabbath candles.