Wallace's Tent on Salisbury Plain

Wallace's Tent on Salisbury Plain
Writing a letter with candle on clipboard, see Oct. 16 letter

Tuesday, August 22, 2023

March 30, 1945 Friday

France

Dear Ma and Pa,

Instead of giving stock market reports on “Radio Luxembourg,” the only station I can get on the little radio near my bed, they spend whole programs giving reports of the height of the Rhine at every city along its length. Each day I listen carefully to every rise and fall of Europe’s “Ol’ Man River” for no good reason except that it makes me feel like Mark Twain.

I love the monotony of life here at the 58th General. Each day is just the same, and being in bed most of the time even cuts down my usual local reconnaissance. So I just lie here and write letters and meditate. I haven’t even felt the urge to read much. I am too busy sleeping and appreciating the comfort here.

My big job yesterday was to clip my moustache. Cut it down from a big Groucho Marx affair to the more chic Clark Gable type. That makes it hard to spot from a distance again. Perhaps, it’s best that way.

Good Friday” today. I remember Churchill said “pessimistically” last fall that the war might last until Easter! Well, any nation with sense would have quit by now, but it seems that we’ll have to “move in” on Germany rather than get any formal surrender. That takes time, and when papers say “no organized resistance” that doesn’t slow down the speed of shots from isolated guns at all. I am continually upset over those “no opposition” reports. It’s true enough for the “big picture” but unfortunately individuals have to face a “little picture” that may be very difficult.

Every night we listen to a stimulating talk by Lord Haw Haw. His twist of the news is very amusing. His logical manner and serious concern over the plight of the English is really something. His patient sarcasm is about the funniest thing we get on the air. It seems very peculiar to me to listen to regular German programs and to their programs given especially for us. Also we pick up programs we put on for the Wehrmacht. They are all very good programs with nice music and subtle digs. It’s like waging a war of spitballs right along side of the real stark thing. The front line life and these programs are miles apart.

Well, Doc said he would sew up my leg tomorrow. These wet bandages are fine – the soreness is gone and the penetration looks clean and neat. 

Keep the pot boiling on the home front, people; I know I’ll get your letters sometime, so I’ll assume all is O.K. with you until they come. What are Carlton’s latest adventures?

Your loving son,

Wallace.


P.S. Thank Aunt Flossie for her very welcome cards and letters to me.


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