We know how badly we are needed by the ground force. Strategic bombardment’s day is at hand. Yet for over a week the weather has been impossible. Today we set out to attack Toulon Harbor through very bad weather. The fliers were never certain when they were over the French coast so thick were the clouds. Scattering like wounded rabbits they scurried homeward. Gasoline was short, bombs were jettisoned by some, some sat down at Corsica, Naples, Bari, etc. It was a grand rat race. But we will try again. The Fascists must be thanking their crazy Fuehrer. There was much friendly jesting at the expense of the hard working weather officers who were accused of using such devices as rheumatic legs and Dr. Mills calendars in their trade.