Tuesday 27 June ‘44
Today, I sent you a package containing my watch for reasons which I will at once set forth. I smashed the crystal during my voyage across and upon my arrival in England, scouted about to have a new one put in – and after much delay found a place which would repair it – but it seems that crystals are scarce – and all he could do was put in what appears to be an inferior grade of cellophane, and cautioned me against pressing too hard on it.
So, doubting that it would stand the rigors of my present environment, I’ve managed to procure a sturdier time-piece – though by no means as fine a watch. The watch I’m sending has stood me in good stead for seventeen years and having a sentimental attachment to it, I’ve decided against exposing it to anything but civilian life. Therefore, I’m sending [it] to you to wear on your wrist until I get back – and every time you look at it, it will tell you that the time for my return is that much closer – and if you feed and water it every day, it will be a great big watch and greet me with a loud “Daddy” when I come marching home.
Doubtless, it will arrive sometime later than this letter, so keep an eye open for a little package. Wind it once a day, before going to bed and then put the cat out, turn out the lights and wish that I were there.
No time to write anymore so I’ll close with –