Robert to Lydia 19 Mar 1945

Monday, March 19

Dear Lyd[1]

        I’ve finally gotten the bugaboo of the thirteenth Sortie[2] behind me ─ can’t say that it makes the remaining ones easier[3].

        Why are you so conscious of censorship[4], to date I don’t think any you’ve sent had a sensor’s stamp & I’m afraid there’s noting you can write they’ll object to. I can’t imagine how you could obtain any information of a secret or confidential nature, disclosure of which would engender security, and you don’t write in cryptographs. No, I can’t tell you what large cities I’m near nor can I make direct comments on any flight I’ve flown so those are subjects to be written of as generalities, not necessarily avoided.

        When you make some candy, send me some & try your new way of packaging[5].

                                                        Bob[6]

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[1] Address to: Mrs. Walter Smith; 1856 Vista Del Mar; Hollywood 28 Calif.

[2] Also referred to as “missions.” In WW II a certain number were required to be flown before a serviceman could be rotated out of combat.

[3] Obviously, the superstition about the number 13 is expressed here. Finding oneself in a situation where one crew comes home and the crew next to them is shot down would surely breed superstition amongst those putting themselves in daily danger.

[4] See Lydia to Robert 3 Mar 1945.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Return address: Lt. R. B. Richert 02071698; 99^th Bm Gr., 346 Bm Sq.; APO 520; c/o P.M., N.Y.C.