Monday, June 5, 1944
My mother doesn’t know what to say. My father just announced that he has requested to be sent to Walter Reed Hospital in Washington, DC for special training in tropical medicine. She knows he’s expecting to be sent to the Pacific and she knows that there’s nothing she can do once he’s set his mind on something. The Army hasn’t approved the request yet so there’s no point worrying now. But if he does get permission, it will mean the ancient family car will have to make another long cross country trip. No possibility of getting a new one, let alone a newer used one. Cars are funny things.