Hello again!
See, I told you I’d write again today. Bet you didn’t believe it. This time I guess I’ll tell you some of the things that have happened since my last letter and before I wound up here in evacuation hospital no. 11 [in Lorquin, France]. And a lot of things have happened – I can’t give you the “big picture,” but a few incidents may give you the temper of the whole.
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| 11th Evacuation Hospital, Lorquin, France |
My last V-mail, I remember, told of my nightly talks with the mayor of Mulcey. Now I can mention the town, you see. He was a good old boy, but we left him pretty suddenly. Upon arriving at our new area I had one of those experiences that are never forgotten. It was in a German-speaking area, and my sergeant Schielke and I were sent out to find billets for the company. He speaks German and I, French, so we are a good team for that type of work. In this area there seems to have been a lot of good allies, for at the first house we were warmly welcomed and given each an oversized glass of Schnapps – this region’s alternative for cognac or calvados. We got rooms for a squad and proceeded on to the next house, where, to our pleasure, the process was repeated. We got rooms and sailed on down to the next house. Same story. Floated to next house – Schnapps, but no room, which was all right with us. Rolled to a hazy number of other houses at which point Schielke forgot his German, and I my French. So we crawled into one of our rooms and slept for some time. Came back to earth and completed our mission – only without Schnapps this time. Moral: never mix Schnapps and billets. Schnapps always wins.
Well, they say they are moving me again, so so long for now, Hon.
Always yours,
Wallace.
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