Saturday, April 13, 1918
Once again writing on the Y.M.C.A. stationery, Harold asks his mother to send his woolen so[x]. He also asks his mother to put in a good word for a girl back home that he hopes to see in eight months or so. He closes the letter in a particularly exuberant mood.
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April 13, 1918
My darling Mother and Folks; -
Well we pulled anchor this morning and ran over to Pier 39 and loaded on supplies all day. At 5 P.M. we pulled out and ran to a little town across the bay. I got shore liberty to I caught a ferry there and came to Frisco. We pull out tomorrow for Mare Island to take on more supplies and leave next Thursday April 18, 1918 for Seattle where we coal ship and then for our trip to Alaska. I sure am glad we get the chance to go and I figure myself lucky but it is awful rough in the Bearing Sea but that all goes with it. Life is not all roses.
I don’t know wether I told you in my last letter or not, but we have to get rubber boots, rubber coat and a rubber hat as the weather is bad up there. Say Mother I wish you could send my woolen sox to me as I’ll have to have them. Send them as soon as possible and I may get them at Seattle. Always use the address that I gave you in my last letter.
You remember the good looking girl that gave you the note that night I was at the Times, well tell her that I’ll be back in about eight months and I’ll talk to her myself “Now or Never.”
Well Mother it is 11:15 and I am going upstairs and take a bath and go to bed. I have to be back to the ship tomorrow at 9:am.
Give my love to all my friends as I miss them all, call up Jake Stewart some night at the yard office and tell him the news as I won’t have time to write.
Will close for now and take care of yourself and wear a smile all the time as I sure am and we will live longer and cheer the next fellow up.
With all my love and many kisses for you.
12th Naval District.
San Francisco, Calif.
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