Richard G. Miller

June 10 

The flies of this place are the most persistent of any I've yet encountered. Seems as though one must brush each separately; they 'won't "shoo" away at all. Guess they get that way from being raised around the natives for these "wogs" simply let them crawl any place on them and never seem to be 'bothered - poorly educated flies!!

Went up today and dropped 2 live 500 lb bombs, fired all our guns, and went up to 29,000 feet. We can't get nearly as high as we’d hope to go - this rarified hot air has cut the ceiling of all our ships way down. The labor battalion of "wogs", Egyptian, is still busy moving a revetment 50 paces so it will be around our plane. These poor devils work for a few cent a day; even little kids 10 or 12 years old, carry 2 heavily loaded sacks of sand on their shoulders '- and keep it up all day. *Tis a different philosophy that these natives have, for from here on East, the destitute devils work only for a bare and extremely meager existence - all they want is to just manage to keep alive. They care nothing of getting ahead even if they could.

It is true they aren't missing much, how can one miss a red head  if he doesn't know that she exists - or a soda or anything. The Egyptians are reportedly friendly to the British", but don’t believe it ~ what the hell difference could Hitler make to them? They'd still haul sand bags so to speak. By the way, I should confess that Halpro has received many of the good native workers, it such an individual does exist, by tipping. That habit is an abominable practice - bloody poor- the English would say - at home and is worse here for after we leave the British will have a tough time making the "bloody bastards work.

This word, "bloody" is in constant and complete usage among any officer, soldier, or civilian that is in even the remotest way a part of Great Britain. It seems to mean nothing definite. Our word "damned" fits in well as a synonym·- "Bloody good bloke", or "bloody sorry bloke" always described a lad.

This afternoon I had the first even warm water to shave or bathe with that I've had since we started on this deal.

Another note; Milk is now a memory. One can get along beautifully without necessities if he but has to – e.g. I have had no privacy at all on the trip; am always living with at least three men.  It makes fine reminiscing to dwell on the things we took for granted back in the States – here we don’t expect them, and there are quite surprised to have even say, a board across two saw horses, as the only table in our room.

Rumor has it that we should go on our first mission tomorrow night – hope so.  I don’t yet understand just why we don’t carry 4 or 5 thousand pound bomb load. The English ships our size take -10,800 lbs of bombs. Major Nero, the only practical officer and worker on this unit, insisted we take more bombs. The colonel said 'NO'! Nero proved we could carry them by racking them on and going up, but still we'll go short-handed, for ‘tis supposed to be dangerous.  What the hell do they think the whole bombing setup is'?

I'd a lot rather make one good trip than have to go back.  I hope I’m wrong, but it looks very much like all the high ranking officers are in this simply to try and get a decoration of some sort -  very few seem to have a genuine interest in trying to end get down, work hard, and end this damnable war. Is decoration so dear that men will risk others lives for it? Which all goes to prove my whole conception of philosophy that it is prestige that rules the world, not money; money is only the method of gaining prestige. ‘Twould be ironical that we should throw all this metal (in the bombs) at some one just to gain a bit of medal and a few adjectives. No, I'm not bitter, just musing over the thoughts in most of the mens minds. Still hope we go and do a whale of a job.