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-:- The Lucky Bag -:-

Navy Supply Corps Midshipmen Officers School

By T. X. Cronin

Well, at last this long-awaited week is here. Finals are now over and we are all breathless waiting for that Commissioning. Also, Harvard is having its Commencement today and all of us will be there.

Gosh, it was good to get those finals out of the way. This week we were given a hard earned rest. I spent the hour in the sack.

The work this term ought to be a breeze; I expect to go out on Saturday nights once in a while--and maybe even a Sunday afternoon.

About the Commissioning; For a while it looked as though we were going to wear work grays to the affair but now I expect we'll be in whites. The other day I tried on my whites for the first time. While I was walking back from the hall we use for a fitting room, I received orders for three chocolate covered and one popsicle.

I'm sorry that you and Aunt Minnie can't make the commissioning, because of Pa. But if Pa's trial comes up Friday can't you use the bail to come here?

Say, Ma, do you know anything about the churches in Boston? Bob Gottschling and Poo-Poo Jaffa tried to get me in go with them to an old church on Howard Street last week. It was an odd time for the service, it seemed to me. They said things started at 8 P. M. and went to midnight. They said that everybody goes there. Maybe I'll go with them the next time.

The reason why I didn't go this time is because Jack Frost and Jim Freeze were meeting some cousins of theirs down at the Touraine. The Touraine is certainly a nice place, Ma. The people there are so friendly. I'd tell you more about the time I had here, but you know, the same old story, we just sat around having "cokes" and discussing Philosophies. Who's Freud, Ma?

Tomorrow night we are going to have a time. We are having a pre-commissioning banquet at the Harvard Club. There's going to be a big feed (on plates, too) and then the boys are going to put on a show. I tried to get Chick Henn, the Toastmaster, to let me render the poem I recited at graduation from good old Tizdale High. Mr. Henn thought that the program was long enough already. He said that if I had spoken to him sooner he would have been glad to use me. Remember, Ma, how I recited it at Uncle Newt's wedding.

I couldn't sleep a wink last night, Ma. because Tom Gaines and Huddy Futral were tuning up on their sweet potato and jug respectively for their part in he Hillbilly Band. That's why I'll have to knock it off now, Mom; I'm so tired. I hope I'll see you at the Commissioning. Until I do see you, then, Ma, I remain Your salty son,   Murgatroyd.

P. S. My roommate just got taken to Sick Bay; they found him eating dirt while reading his Disbursing assignment   Murgie

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