France
Hello again, my Honey--
Here’s the old familiar scene once more. An officer’s ward, this time the 58th General, a bed, a writing board, and me bringing you my report of “recent operations.” I know you want to know the “hows” and “wheres” and I’ll tell you all I can without breaking circular 6, the censorship rules.
They insist on keeping this division under news blackouts, which irritates us some because we know that the ones that you do read about do not do all the work. I am not in the same army I was, and it seemed good to work for once as armored infantry really should. We covered plenty of ground and fast. It was all in Germany, too, which made it even more satisfying. We reached the Rhine and my platoon was leading the advanced guard into a large city one morning with an A.T. gun fired directly thru the building I was in. I [It?] scattered in all directions! Luckily, nothing big came my way. I was blown around some, some small pieces scratched me here and there, and one piece traversed the muscle above my knee. That is what sent me back. It’s coming on fine and will be all well soon. Last time I was hit things were pretty rough and battle shock had me feeling low for a while. Not this time. For one thing, I was more used to it. Also, things were going our way and it was daylight rather than dark.
Also the reaction of my platoon made it a fine experience. It proved to me that I hadn’t wasted my efforts for them. They kept on operating as a well-spirited team, yet just about every man got away long enough to come over and see if he could help the “Lootenant.” They seemed genuinely concerned and I had lots of help back to the aid station. Funny how strong an attachment you get for your outfit, and how good it makes you feel to see that it goes the other way, too.
Well, so much for so much. I was evacuated thru a string of stations, operated on under that nice sleepy drug they inject in your arm, and now the wound is in a “wet bandage” that helps it drain well. I have received a lot of penicillin and sulfa again. In a few days they will sew it up, then unsew it, then physiotherapy, then return to duty. The medics so a miraculously efficient job.
Just now the doctor came by, and what do you know? He found another little piece of shrapnel! In my right leg. Just a teeny bit, but it makes me feel like a cribbage board. That makes scratches all over me except my right arm. They are like fingernail scratches, tho, and amount to nothing. Maybe I’ll enclose the one the doctor just found as a curio.
I am a bed patient, you know, and tho I have a pair of crutches I only use them to go to the latrine. The nurse gave me a bath this morning, which was a unique experience for me. Another comes around every now and then and keeps my bandages wet with a big old medicine dropper. Being naturally lazy, I am enjoying myself immensely. The chow is the best I’ve seen for a long time. Of course, I have each meal in bed and I eat them all like a connisseur. Have plenty of time for cigarettes before and after – oranges, fruit juice, apple pie. Oh my, life if so comfortable here. The radio is right here by my right hand, and there are about 10 other officers in this small ward that keeps a lively conversation going.
Along with this I’ll send the latest attachment for my Purple Heart, which you may have received by now. I believe it clasps on to the center of the purple cloth part. Also here is an address I would like you very much to keep. When we visit France after the war we will look up these people – they were very good to me and would like to meet you. I lived with them for some time, and they made French pies, French fries, etc. for me. The Madame is a super-neat housekeeper and her husband, a turner at the mine.
I am resigned to the fact that I will get no mail from you for a long time. I haven’t received any since early in March, and this will confuse the mail people even more. However, I know I will get a big pile some time.
Meantime, I want you to know that you are the nicest wife anybody ever had. You seem close to me when everything else at home begins to seem foreign. I think of you just as tho you were here and not as someone back in the States. That is an awfully good feeling, Bunny. I love you so very much I don’t know what I would do if you seemed far away. Having you near is what makes me feel as if I weren’t just rattling around in a brittle world.
I love you always, Hon,
Wallace.
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