Bikini Atoll

12 August 1946.

 

Dear Mom and Pop:

           
            We haven’t got much to do this afternoon, so I thought I would sit down and type out a few lines. I think this will be the last chance that I have to write a letter, as we are putting out to sea in two days, headed for the states.

            There’s not much that I can write about because all I do day in and out is sit on my can and bang away on a typewriter. Then in the evening I usually go to the movies that I’ve usually seen about a year or two ago. That is my typical day.

            We won’t have much work to do now since the atom bomb tests are over. We’re going to start packing all our files and supplies to take back to Washington, D.C. with us.

            Well it won’t be long before I’ll be home again. It was really a short cruise out here in the Pacific. It took me almost a year to get out here and no sooner I get out, I get sent back to the states. Near home yet.

            I got a letter from Don the other day, and he said he was coming home on a furlough. I think by the time I get home, he’ll just be leaving to go back.

            I’m always seeing someone I know. The other day on Bikini Island I ran into a kid I went through “boots” with at Bainbridge, Maryland. I think Pop remembers him. A little Pollock with blonde hair.

            Then just the other day I bumped into a kid on board here that was in Junior High School with me. It’s funny how you run into guys that you went to school with way out here.

            If I wanted to I could fly back East from the West coast, but I’m going to take a train instead. The reason is that we get 14 days leave plus six days travel time. If I went by air I don’t think I would get any travel time. If I can get a good train out of Frisco, I might make a few days on the deal. We go by government expense and believe me I’m going to travel first class Pullman.

            Well I’m going to close these few lines now. Keep everything going smoothly till I get back. Take care of yourselves.

 

All my love,

Alfred.