Dear Mudder and Dad,
Here it s another lazy Sunday. It’s a pretty nice day outside but still wet from yesterday’s rain. I should be doing some washing but I can’t seem to get very enthusiastic about the thing. I guess I’ll get cleaned up in a little while and go over to the Red Cross. The mail you’re sending me comes so damn slow that it’s pitiful. You say my letters come in 7 days. Well it takes yours over 3 weeks. After not getting and mail from you for about a week I received one letter yesterday that was dated the sixth of Sept.
Well, they’ve finally got around to letting us be a little more specific about where we are. Now I can say I’m in Southern England. That clears up things a “helluva” lot doesn’t it—to be sure.
I see by this morning’s paper that Ike is massing some 3,000,000 men on the German frontier and that the Jerries are as jittery as the devil. I can’t say I blame them. From what the papers say they’re going to go through Das Reich like a dose of salts. I hope so. You’ll probably know all about it by the time you get this letter. I understand, however, from the infinitesimal amount of Eastern news that the British papers print that China is getting awfully wobbly.
That’s really about all there is, folks. Tomorrow I’ve got to go to the Messhall about 3:30 A.M. and be a fireman, a dirty job. Phooey! The more I think about it the less I like it. Oh hell! “Cest la guerre” and all stuff like that thar.