It was right about now, give or take a day or two, in 1952, when we started to assemble in the Bainbridge gym for a final medical inspection to determine if we were safe to send home. Scarlet fever was striking down one recruit after another, and instead of going home for Christmas they were being sent to the hospital. I remember how worried we all were when the medical corpsmen asked us to lift our T-shirts so they could examine our backs and chests for telltale signs. How bitter that must have been for those who were discovered hours before departing. One of our own, whose name escapes me, but whose face I can still see, had come down with the rash that morning. He stood in the head lamenting his bad luck while simultaneously warning us not to come near him. Mike Santini? That names pops into my head. I remember the medics coming to pick him up in the ambulance. The ambulance waited outside the barracks while the medics strapped this poor young recruit into a stretcher before carrying him below, the tears streaming down his face. For the remainder of the day the rest of us kept sneaking looks at our own chests, then asking someone to look at our backs. You were there. You must remember this, too. It was to be not only your last day before the Christmas Leave, but also your last day in Bainbridge. It all seems so long ago now, and yet like only yesterday. I don't think I saw you again until that day in Norfolk when I visited you aboard your destroyer. (Then again, Bruce, we must have met st Steve Hartie's wedding over the holidays.) Speaking of destroyers, I've just finished reading a fabulous book written by a British sailor, Travis Jones, who served aboard destroyers in the British Navy during WWII, called, HEART OF OAK. I think you'd find it to your liking. As for my book, PARTICLES OF TIME, in which you're the featured character in a story called, "Rise and Shine, Sailor," it can be ordered by most book stores. The store you tried, Books-a-Million, may not offer that service. Any Barnes and Noble, or Border's can order it; or you can order it yourself. It is still in print and readily available. Think battle lanterns and people were quieting down until someone started yelling' his wallet had been stolen. That brought the Master-at-Arms back in and he warned that if the missing wallet wasn't returned we'd spend the rest of the night looking for it. Neither happened. The wallet wasn't found, and we weren't punished. It took maybe another hour for everyone to adjust to his new surroundings and quiet pretty much prevailed except for a few kids who were softly crying, one of whom kept calling out for his mother, and then sometime during the night a kid started cursing without waking up, just shouting vile words into the dark. I remember lying quietly in my bunk thinking that my first night in the Navy hadn't even ended yet and I still had 729 more to go. I fell asleep saying a few prayers to myself and the next thing I knew it was daylight and the Master-At-Arms was back rapping on the metal bunks and shouting "Hit the deck, you little pricks. You're in the Navy now! "I'm sure you'll have your own stories like this to tell and I look forward to hearing them sometime.