Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve, 1918

We got off this afternoon until Thursday morning at eight -- then Saturday morning we are off for seven days. There is no place like this place for liberty.

Didn't have time to tell you all about my trip to Boston.

After walking most of the morning, Julius took me back to Harvard for lunch. Afterward we took a subway over to Boston and went to a free theatre -- and it was fine. I saw the Japanese fellow who was in Texas a year or two ago -- he talks and writes headlines from the newspaper backwards at the same time, as well as harder concentration tasks.

That night we went home with a woman for supper, and stayed until about 9:30. I caught the 11:30 train back to New London, getting here about 3:00 -- went to bed and slept til seven. I didn't get to bed as early as I expected last night on account of writing up some work we'd gotten the day before, so I think I'll try and get some sleep. It will be the first Christmas Eve I've gone to bed early in several years.

Aunt Hattie sent me a fine linen handkerchief. I haven't written her yet, but will tomorrow.

You may be sure pecans will make her a good present -- at least if she appreciates them like I did the ones you sent me.

It is raining again -- seems like it rains every holiday. Yesterday was like a Texas spring day -- during the two hours we get off for lunch I just stretched out on the dock at the edge of the water, and slept and made out like I was back home.

The boat Mrs. Billingsly's brother sailed on is the Ozaka -- it left just after we did. I helped put provisions on it while I was at Pedro. He has had a wonderful trip I know, but I wouldn't change places with him. He will still be a seaman when he gets back off the boat. We all wanted to get drafted on the Ozaka when she was put in commission though. Everything seems to turn out for the best every time.

Julius is looking fine and really looks good in uniform. I didn't get to see Victor Layton or Chilton Ayres because they had gone to New York.

Am going back into camp tomorrow morning to get my letter from you -- I hate to wait til Thursday morning.

Love to all the Weldons this first Christmas I've been away.

Heywood

(Postmarked New London, Connecticut, December 24, 1918)