France, – Hosp.
Dearest Marjorie,
Happy Easter, Hon – or I might say Happy April, fool! But I won’t say anything like that. In our usually slap-happy ward there hasn’t been even one April fool’s joke. Just the usual run of G.I. humor.
Most of the men went to church today, but I haven’t got permission to leave the ward yet. In fact, Honey, I am in the same state I was last time. I haven’t a bit of personal clothing or equipment. I have been able to hang on to a few francs and my identification, tho, so I don’t feel quite as bereft as before. Besides, I am now adjusted to putting complete and infinite faith in Uncle Sam for all things. Whatever he doesn’t supply, the Red Cross does, so I have no worries whereof I shall eat or wherewith I shall be clothed. (I told you yesterday I was going to be a modern Christian!) Well, the Red Cross done noble again, and brought a nice Easter lily for the ward. It isn’t my idea of a real Easter lily at all. It’s orange and to all appearances the bloom is upside down, but that is what they said it was. The green looks like a lily, anyway.
A couple of my current buddies are being shipped to England, or the U.K. as it is known here. That’s United Kingdom, in case you know as little as I did when I left the States. They are more serious cases than mine. I can’t seem to get beyond Com Z – communication zone. Some real serious cases are Z.I.’d – zone of interior, which is the U.S. (of sacred memory).
I can make a further report on my cigarette research. I can state positively that Chesterfields are a milder cigarette, but that they do not retain their shape and tightness of packing as well as Luckies or Camels. However, there is too little difference among the top popular brands to warrant being arbitrary in choosing any one brand. There is a notable difference between the top ones and such weeds as Raleigh’s, Chelseas, etc. I haven’t given Phillip Morris a valid test yet.
Under each bed in the ward there is a cardboard carton. It is used to hold clothing that is brought in, but as I have said, I have none. So I drew a big Chesterfield box that I had no use for. Just now, with no more results than a very dirty look from the ward boy, I took my jack knife and cut out one side of the box, to use as a writing board on my own bed. It will enable me to write any time without waiting for the wooden board we usually use. I tell you this only to show my amazing initiative. I shall now do all my writing to you on a two-inch high sign proclaiming that Chesterfields satisfy.
On Easter I am always reminded of the Dahl cartoon that showed a news photographer snapping the Easter parade – a rich man, a deb, a socialite family, etc., all formally and colorfully dressed. Finally an ordinary “average” man comes along in a business suit and says to the photographer, “Never mind me, I go to church every Sunday.” Also do you remember the “New Yorker” cover with a religious frame of trumpeting angels, with saints et al looking toward the center, where in a bursting halo stood a silly little Easter hat? [April 4, 1942] I liked that.
Aside from these few incidents and thoughts my Easter has been uneventful. Pleasant, tho. I shall look forward to the letter you will probably write me about your activities today. Did you go to a sunrise service? Sing in the choir? Eat ham and eggs at my folks house, maybe? In any event, I have had a nice picture of you in a fresh spring outfit doing something enjoyable. Hope the day was a good one for you, my dear, and that we never have to spend another one apart. Easter season means a lot to us personally because of past events and by right we should pass it intimately together. I love you as if we had spent today together, renewing our promises.
All of my love,
Wallace
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