Sunday 21st Jan 
Just a short note asking you to do something for me. I forgot about it when writing yesterday. You will have found an illustration in the hall – will you ring Jack Santry and ask him if he would be good enough to take it in to Miss Mellion in the office? I couldn’t manage it on my last trip in.
Also on the verandah is a painting of wounded in a plane interior – you know, the very green thing. I think it is leaning against the cupboard out on the verandah. Will you send me up the size in inches of the original – and also ask Jack Santry to take it into Ron Bennett whom I shall write respecting it? How are you getting along without me to worry you? I do hope you and the little man are doing well & eating all you should. We are leaving early this morning for an island further along the coast. Should get there about 3 hours after we leave. This American camp is a huge place. Thousands of Yanks swarm the hills. They’ve even got between 100 & 200 service women with them. I dare say that dame Staunton who came home is somewhere about. French letters & prophylastic (sic) stations abound.
It is very quiet at the moment – no one up in the PR camp – no sound of birds in the jungle just beside the hill. The silence is broken only by the roaring farting of the jeeps grinding up the hill on the right. We eat at an officers mess about a mile & a half up the mountain which overlooks a magnificent lake curving round the foothills for miles upon miles. It really is a beautiful spot. That is more than you can say for the food. Christ the Americans are sweet toothed eaters! Expensive too – and little enough of it. Jack Hickson gets around in a start of chronic hunger pain. 1/- for a breakfast of a sweet kind of egg bread soaked in syrup. Coffee of course. 3/6 for lunch consisting of an indifferent vegetable ball covered with a thin sauce, slice of beetroot & frizzled dehydrated potatoes. No coffee but water with lemon, and flat cakes. Dinner was a salad of pears & peaches with a near horse radish sauce – then tomatoe soup – roast beef & a slawish sort of cabbage & a substance which none could identify & none could eat – all topped off with a slopingly sweet chocolate pie. Humm-mm!
It has just started to rain but I don’t think it will amount to much – the mountain this foothill is part of runs to 5800 ft & has been shrouded by clouds ever since our arrival so I guess one can expect a certain dampness to be our lot..
The boys are alright but I’d still prefer to be alone I think. However we shall see what we shall see. Haven’t done any work yet as we haven’t contacted RAAF stations. Will be staying with one today. Somewhere in the Schoeten Islands just off NG.
After being very short on cigarettes all yesterday & being unable to buy any off the yanks we managed to get a dozen cartons off an Australian canteen. Whacko! 12 Guilders for the dozen! 1 Guilder is 3/4 to you mug – of course we intrepid newsmen are in Dutch Territory & now shiny guilders about where pounds fluttered before.
Lots of love sweetheart. A big squiggle & tickle for little wep & regards to mum.
I’ll be seeing you.
That’s a guilder, little woman!