appeared. I only wish you might see it in New York, where it has the advantage of an especially excellent production.
And now that I find you were not annoyed by the results of your kindness to me last spring, I gather courage to ask if you would help me out again. I plan to visit the colored troops in a Southern camp this winter if nobody objects, and perhaps you won't mind if I turn up again at your headquarters looking for advice and directions.
In fact, this letter is in the nature of warning that unless you discourage me, I'm likely to turn up at Camp Butner early in January. 2
March 23, 1943
It's 9:40 in the evening--we slept and were waked for dinner- and ate it--despite our vows--and are now given a half-hour to write a note and send it before the censorship clamps down. It was certainly hard to say goodbye in that cold shed of a pier--both of us half-sick and depressed by the bitter day. Somehow the whole venture takes on a futile air when subjected to the scrutiny of actuality. How can it be a good thing to embark on this particular voyage--when there are so many interesting things to do nearer home? It's a kind of a test of a fellow--whether he can interest himself in something near at hand or must be looking restlessly at a distant pasture. But then I come back to