Dear folks,
Now I can sit down amid the hum of German conversation of
the family I am billeted with and tell you I am O.K. but a hellova long way
from home. Back in the other side of France I had to stay on the ball and join
the conversation in French. Here I can smile graciously and ignore conversation
except for an occasional “Jahr” [sic] or “danke” and “sehr gute” as they pass
around the wine. There seems to me to be more beer and wine here than in the
rest of France. Politeness, of course, forces me to try it all. I have sampled
cognac, Calvados, schnaps, champagne, red wine, and a lot of types of beer.
Have had some interesting things to eat, also, tho food is pretty scarce here.
Black bread, barley coffee, apples, various cheeses and milk combinations. Some
of these French breads and pastries are pretty good. They have a warm milk,
coffee combination that is very good. It’s more milk than coffee, but thick and
warming.
The ground was a long time freezing here, but finally it
did. Now the mud is not bad and we have clothes enough to keep warm. We don’t
get to wash too often. As one soldier says, if our wives lay out a clean pair
of underwear when we get back, we’ll say, “What for, these I have aren’t worn
out yet.” My habits of eating and cleaning, as you say, have never been good—and
boy, they aren’t getting any better.
I like you letters very much, and if I don’t get a chance to
write too often, don’t worry. There are a thousand things that can keep me from
writing. So long for now and season’s greetings to all.
Your loving son,
Wallace
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