Port--
Hi Honey;
Today, elation beyond words! Am happy recipient of practically tons of scented packets from thee. Remember when your dad or mom bought you a toy that you’d desired for so long? (I do, a bycycle, yars and yars ago.) Remember the things that you’d give your seat in hell for? Well, roll all those things, large and small, together and you have my hopes for mail from you. Funny how at sea where you know theres none to be had, taint bad, but hit a port and all the ship’s company gets stuff and such. Tis enough to drop tears in your wine--no more, batches and batches. Remember the picture we had taken in that tourist camp in
Vancouver--You Oot Marj and this lowly character. The one where we were out of dungarees for a change-tis my favorite now. Of Oot and Marj--a month late but my sincerest congrats and all that rot. (Of course I knew it all the time, only their not so speedy as some people we like) Today also is the day that they give infants away--hows your sis bearing-up. (Thot that to be rather sharp.)
Saw several old friends today! Small chap--Bob Bogeman and ex-queen S.M. . He has a nice shore-tower on a pleasant beach. Lives in a private home, own room, several lads to do the work, a little Filipino cook. Had a nice chow and a big lie contest--he’s a nice lad. Check the little fellow in the pics we took on Oahu in ‘41. There are some in an album at home, I theesks. Went over to see Chief S.M. L.B. Johnson too. Same lad--wish he had duty with me. His polack gal has ceased communications for the present. Her sister is dying of “polio mengatuium.”
I know come to the point of mentioning a thus far unspoken reason for the letters. I love you sweet. Not as the burning coal of a banked hearth, but as the volcano burns. (Lots of love, like the fire.) When I read each of your letters tis almost as tho you were talking to me. As, as you were setting across the room from me and both of us are immobile for the moment. In the dark and we could talk and laugh; only the letters make it seem that I can only laugh with you, never quite seeing but sensing your very lovely nearness. At a particularly funny part I laugh, you look up--I know you do, because we never go on until the laugh has trickled to a nasal mmph. Then tis like before--near and sweet, my Sweetie, but unable to cross that short dark distance to you. Tell ya wat I’ma gonna do--instead of the customary niceties due the two engaged--you catch them in a pleasant pose and kick the pair in the customary place for having so much fun. (Naw, don’t theyre nice)
Always Love
Kenny Lee
Kenny Lee Martin S.M.2/c
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