8 June 44
News last night, by wireless, of the invasion. Cheering hadn’t died down before I suddenly got a flash realization that this war may be over “in our time.” For so long now it has seemed that the war would last indefinitely–just couldn’t see the end of it, stretching on for a couple of years at least. But now, with luck, it is possible at last that I might be home by a year from now, with no more than a couple more campaigns under my belt. Seems impossible of course, but it could happen. God knows I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life.
Nothing much has been happening, of course. A lot of briefing and exercise in this steaming heat. Playing a lot of Monopoly, of all things. In fact, it is quite the rage, the Red Cross having broken out with a couple dozen games–it’s ideal for passing away the time. Also playing some bridge–wisely I didn’t bring much money, so I can’t play poker. Funny, though, how much time you can waste, just in the daily business of living–showers, sleep, eating–only an hour or two of real work in the day, and yet somehow the rest of it passes.
One has to be in the mood to write a letter, or it is worse than none at all–I’m not in it this afternoon. Maybe tomorrow.
 The Saipan-bound convoy made its final pre-invasion stop at Eniwetok on this date.
 Meaning Operation Overlord, the Allied landings in Normandy on June 6.
 Phil evidently did not find himself in the mood before June 10, when the convoy departed Eniwetok. Any letters written between this date and the landing on Saipan have been lost.