"Scuttlebutt has it that some of these 'salts' from the fleet are pretty rough. One of them wanted the ship's company's pick-up truck to haul his sea-bag from the R.R. depot to his dorm. When the storekeeper refused he is reported to have said, ‘Listen Red, give me those keys or I’ll ram this typewriter down your throat.’ He got the keys."
--Letter from Lee Lenz, Sewanee, Tenn., to my father, Asbury Park, N. J., Sunday, March 12, 1944.
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