San Pedro, California
September 25, 1918
My dear Mother,
Our mail service has taken another crazy spell -- I got four letters from you yesterday and one today -- also heard from Aunt Maude and Bart Graham today.
We have from four o'clock today until 9:30 tonight liberty, but I'm not going to take it -- it's only for a short while anyway.
We had a good entertainment last night by the Garrett Club from Los Angeles, and although it was somewhat classical (which doesn't go over very well usually) everyone enjoyed it. Monday night the YMCA gave a movie show at eight bells. They have a show about twice a week and have a big hall and good machine. Of course there are plenty of sailors to operate it.
Bart says Ted has been in France quite a while now and is now in action.
A fellow in the sub base yesterday was killed by an elevator, and the are to bury him with a military funeral tomorrow.
Today we get off to see swimming races between the men and relay teams. Have been in several times and although I like fresh water best, I like salt water better every time I go.
The West Zula sailed today with several of the fellows who came out of Goofie with me. They were drafted in although several hundred had already volunteered -- I sure wish I could have gone on it. It was a big steel camouflage steamer bound for N.Y.C.
Got the pictures -- the first I've had since I've been away, and you can't know how glad I was to get them. I haven't gotten my albums yet.
If you haven't already sent my football shoes, don't do it until I write you again -- I may not be able to use them.
I'd rather have my sweater -- it will be much warmer. The Bedford girls sent me one but I can't wear it much. But it will soon be cooler and then I will write for mine, for it's much nicer than the one they sent me -- although I appreciate them taking that much trouble making it.
Am going to have a picture made Saturday when I go into L.A. so will send you some within a short time.
Love to all of you,
P.S. Thanks for the stamps. They surely do come in handy. I'll tell you something else you can send -- my shaving brush, or rather Father's. I forgot it. I hate to always be asking for something.
(Postmarked San Pedro, California, September 26, 1918)