I Write This From A Hospital Bed

Wednesday, September 30, 1942

One year in the Army today. I feel I should philosophize on this point, but won’t.

I write this from a hospital bed at the Army Hospital in Irvingstown. On Sunday the 27th I got terrible cramps in my stomach followed by a chill so I went to bed. My relief went on guard at 7 p.m. but when they fell out I stayed in bed. The medics man, “Doc” Lean, came in and took my temperature. It read 101 and some tenths. He called the hospital and they sent out an ambulance. On to the litter I went and off to the hospital. It was a terribly bumpy ride and I can’t say much for those medics men when it comes to handling those litters. When we arrived at the hospital a medical officer gave me a summary exam. He kept probing my stomach with his finger and for a while I though he’d rush me off to surgery with appendicitis. My temperature meanwhile had gone over 102. They finally carried me to one of the wards and put me to bed. Oh Heaven — what is more glorious than sheets and a spring bed after months of peat bags and army cots. The same night I was moved to another ward where there was an awfully pretty nurse on night duty. (Miss Rogers by name). The first American girl I’ve seen in five months.

My diagnosis was pneumonia. Next day I felt much better and had chest X-rays.

Now I’ve convalescing and the diagnosis was changed to flu.

Yesterday I received a registered letter from Jane with $5 in it. First letter received in six days. No one in the company has received any mail. Something seems to be up. Meanwhile I’ll lay around and take life easy.