Tuesday, Nov.21, 1944
“Conditions remain exactly the same,” Daddy wrote home today. “They give me the same answer every time I ask about myself. ‘Maybe tomorrow, maybe in a week.’ In the meantime I have no job, no patients, no soldiers, not even a boss. All I have to do is sign in and out every day and vargle around the rest of the day. The weather gets worse daily and the waiting is beginning to tell on our nerves.” Mommy tried to lighten the mood of the letter with a little joke: “I think they send people here so that they won’t mind going overseas. The weather…is just one lead sky after another. It is a real Siberia. Everybody sits around his stove indoors and you hardly see anyone outdoors unless they can’t help it.” Well, no one can expect cheerful letters from us while we’re in such suspense.