Sept. 9/41.

Here it is 6:15 on a cloudy morning of Sept, and a cold outlook it is. I haven’t felt any older as yet but I expect I will – we’re going to do spins and forced landings in a few minutes.

I am enclosing a piece of my solo ribbon, as I thought you’d like to have it. We have at least one of these on our plane when we make our first solo flight and the others sure get out of your way when they see it.

I’ve been drinking to much this last week and I’m sleepy as hell, but I’ll wake up as soon as I get of terra-firma. The trouble is I can’t write intelligently after a poor sleep, so I’ll have to go on the wagon for a couple of days I suppose.

We live at a pretty high rate in this outfit and although I haven’t got really drunk for a long time, I have got rid of a rather disgusting amount of beer these last few weeks. I guess I’ll just have to slow up for a while. It is getting very close too time for my instructor to come n, so if you are too get this I must call a halt for the meantime.

I’ll write again soon and tell you something of our life here.

Remember darling I am thinking of you every day.

I might add I didn’t really answer your letter, as I’d sooner do that when I have more time.

All my love dearest,
Den.