November 4, 1944 Saturday

Dearest Honey,

This is one of those nights when I can’t seem to think of anything to write except G.I. things. And they bore both of us. I fired my carbine this morning. I am duty officer tonight (repaying Bukovinas for his goof turns to us this summer). My platoon is in fine shape. Changed two squad leaders recently, and it was for the best. I am getting so I know the platoon better all the time. I am pretty tired from being out in the cold all day.

Ah, yes, I still have my moustache – fuller and finer than ever. I have found a man in the company, a cook, who keeps my hair cut and whiskers trimmed for two packs of cigarettes a week. That’s six pence a week and a hole in my ration card. I’ll keep the moustache as Exhibit A against those who oppose it back home. It’s a lot better now than it was in the “Two Sisters” picture. I boast.

Now I will move on to another V-form and make a confession that I am sure will make you wonder what I must look like. Continued—
Wallace

November 4, 1944 Saturday
Hello again, Hon – Experience, you know, is a thing that should not be avoided. I shall now confess to a new experience. On my ration card is a spot to authorize most anything. Since I always buy all I can get, I found myself in possession of a large hunk of chewing tobacco last week. I resolutely set out to give the thing a fair trial. After all, many people chew tobacco and enjoy it. I have broadmindedly been chewing and spitting all week, to the amazement of thousands, including myself. With half a hunk still to go I conclude that the taste of chewing tobacco is quite good. But its use is restricted to the out-of-doors, since if you swallow rather than expectorate freely you get dizzy. Excess expectoration by its own nature further restricts it to society where such action is approved. Except for the taste, it’s a lousy habit! And even the taste isn’t so good.

I am getting tired again; I planned to write three sections tonight, but will have to quit at two. Please excuse me, honey. I’ll go right to bed and dream of you as usual, in my snug sleeping bag – I have one now that zips right over my head and keeps out the cold air. I love you always.

All my love,
Wallace