4 June 1945
Dearest Evie,
Using V-mail tonight ’cause I ran out of Air Mail envelopes. But there isn’t much to report today, anyhow, so this form should suffice—Still at the Hospital, but I should be leaving tomorrow. When the Capt. made his rounds this morning and asked me how I was feeling, I told him O.K. except for the usual thing. He told the nurse to increase the doses of Amphojel this afternoon to 16cc. A nechtegen tug! [Yiddish meaning “nice try!” sarcastically] I might just as well have taken so much water for any effect it had! When the nurse came around later with more of the same, I refused to take it, telling her to tell the Capt, that it did me no good. It's a funny situation when the Army will concede that you are ailing, admit that there isn't anything concrete they can do about it, and just are content to let it go at that! Well, maybe they'd ignore it if it were up to them, but I've decided not to let them. These damned gas pains are making me miserable. Besides being actually painful at times, they make it almost impossible for me to keep mind on my work. I've never told you about this, honey, ’cause you have enough to worry about. I'm only telling you now so that you will understand any course of action I decide on. One thing I've determined to do - and that is to report on sick-call until they decide to give me some satisfaction. Capt. Brownlee has been very kind and sympathetic, but as far as doing anything constructive about my condition - he hasn't, hell - he admits there's nothing he can do. Where does that leave me? So—I'll just keep reporting on sick call until something gives. That's all.
Using V-mail tonight ’cause I ran out of Air Mail envelopes. But there isn’t much to report today, anyhow, so this form should suffice—Still at the Hospital, but I should be leaving tomorrow. When the Capt. made his rounds this morning and asked me how I was feeling, I told him O.K. except for the usual thing. He told the nurse to increase the doses of Amphojel this afternoon to 16cc. A nechtegen tug! [Yiddish meaning “nice try!” sarcastically] I might just as well have taken so much water for any effect it had! When the nurse came around later with more of the same, I refused to take it, telling her to tell the Capt, that it did me no good. It's a funny situation when the Army will concede that you are ailing, admit that there isn't anything concrete they can do about it, and just are content to let it go at that! Well, maybe they'd ignore it if it were up to them, but I've decided not to let them. These damned gas pains are making me miserable. Besides being actually painful at times, they make it almost impossible for me to keep mind on my work. I've never told you about this, honey, ’cause you have enough to worry about. I'm only telling you now so that you will understand any course of action I decide on. One thing I've determined to do - and that is to report on sick-call until they decide to give me some satisfaction. Capt. Brownlee has been very kind and sympathetic, but as far as doing anything constructive about my condition - he hasn't, hell - he admits there's nothing he can do. Where does that leave me? So—I'll just keep reporting on sick call until something gives. That's all.
Just room enough left to tell you to be patient, honey. It must be as hard for you as it is for me, but there’s no point in knocking ourselves out - is there? I love you. A kiss for Adele. Love to all from
Your Phil
P.S. Visited the dental clinic to get that molar X-rayed—it’s O.K. Had a small cavity filled. That's all—(I was going to make a cake but thought better of it—)
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