January 19, 1945 Friday

France

Dearest Honey,

Have just completed a V-mail to you and will now start in on this regular letter. I will send it air mail if possible, but I don’t know as I will be able to get a stamp. You see I have been able to kibitz a pen again this morning.

The news of the fall of Warsaw [January 17, 1945] came thru a couple of days ago and it is held by all here to be the beginning of the final phase of the war in Europe. My man, Joe Sokol, to whom I turn for news analyses these days has held since last September that the start of a Russian offensive in Poland would mark the beginning of the end. He now gives the war here 3 months to last, and I sure hope he is right. However, I have seen so many predictions come and go that I am not getting too upset over the whole thing.

I am gradually catching up to date on my recent activities, tho the account will come thru very jumbled to you. That is because I have sent V-mail, air-mail, and regular letters and they all go at different speeds.

Yesterday I told you about Schnapps and billeting. Today, just to be accurate and complete, I will tell you just a little about some house-to-house fighting I did. I cannot say what the platoon did, or how it fared, but just personal experiences, you understand. And I guess that is just as well.

After spending some time in a perfect ghost-story setting of a big water works, where I split my time between eating K-rations and guiding prisoners in thru the courtyard on the enemy side of the enemy side of the stream, I got into the town itself. (That water works would make good setting for a tense play, believe me. In fact, we acted pretty good one there.) Well, in town we got into a few houses and got ready for a busy night. I stayed at the entrance of our C.P. [command post] and played tag with hand grenades all night.

There was a little alley that came up to the rear of the house, and Jerry seemed intent on coming thru there in small bunches. He would creep up to within 15 yards of our door and flip one of his weak little hand grenades in front of the door. I would duck until it went off on our doorstep and return the complement with one of our own. Ours is much better, so he soon realized it was a bad swap and crept back until another bunch decided to try it. This sort of thing went on all night at our door.

In the morning we counted six grenades Jerry had lobbed at us, and we returned him better than that. Toward morning they tried to shove a whole squad up my alley, but fortunately the house next door had been set on fire and I saw them coming about 50 yards away – looked like a news reel, no fooling. I let their front man get up to about 5 yards of my door and then happily flipped 3 grenades out the door-- one close in, one farther out, and one way back behind the whole squad. It was very demoralizing to the squad, and we had no more close-in trouble until morning.

That is just a very, very weak description of one night of this house to house business. No two hours are alike, much less days, but maybe this will help just a little in clarifying what it is like. You don’t get scared, or even very excited after a little. You just try to see how few men you can lose.

A lot of very funny things happen, only you don’t laugh at them until later. For instance, I once lost my dignity completely in trying to do my duty. When artillery falls, we all run like mad for the nearest cellar. One time we were all crowding into a cellar – as usual, I was one of the first to arrive. Now I wanted everybody to have room to get in, so I withdrew to the far corner of the cellar. I noticed that there was a row of rabbit cages all around the rear, so thinking rapidly, I decided that if I jumped on top of one of the cages there would be so much more room. So I made a dive to the top of the cage. To my dismay, when I was in mid-air I saw that the cage had no top. Well, I wound up head first in the cage of rbbits and rabbit pills – a very unromantic picture of a young Lieutenant, to the enjoyment of all.

Well, my Xmas packages have all come in now, I feel. The last couple came while we were living in foxholes on the defense. Cold – oh, my! We had to be in the holes almost all the time, but I could work it so that a few men could get off for a few hours at a time. So I set up our own company “rest camp.” Took over the best house in the closest town, kept a crew keeping fires going there and provided transportation to and from the house. When a man could take off, he grabbed a track into the “rest camp.” There he could get warm, receive mail, eat a hot meal any time of day, get new sox, sleep and eat Xmas candy. Most of the men chose to donate their boxes to a big table where all could dip in at will while resting. That is where my last two boxes went. When things get rough everything, including bed rolls, becomes community property. It’s fine to see things work that way, the spirit of friendship is much more real than in easy times. It’s a natural reaction, I guess. Too bad people get petty and selfish as they get more safe and comfortable, tho, isn’t it?

So long for now, my honey. I meant to tell you to do just what you wish with the deposits I send home from my pay. Consider them a gift – get what you want and deposit the rest. We both realize the importance of saving for our future; the more the better, that’s all. You’re in charge of that, Honey, for now. I know you’ll do better than I could. I love you like everything, Bunny.

All my love,

Wallace