(Somewhere in France; V-Mail)
Dear Mudder and Dad
It’s Feb. 7 just in case you’re curious. I couldn’t recall for just a minute. How time flies. One would think that it would go “as slow as molasses in January,” to quote an old cliché; but it doesn’t. It doesn’t seem possible that it is February already and I’ve been with the 399th. for better than 2 months and been overseas for better than 6. By the way when I get home you’ll probably not be able to recognize me for the “fruit salad” I’ll be wearing: combat infantry badge, good conduct ribbon, E.T.O. ribbon with at least one campaign star, I don’t know how many overseas service bars on my sleeve—I’m entitled to one now, regimental badges, divisional patch and if they do send me to the Pacific I’ll end up looking like a Christmas tree.
Jesus Christ! It’s hard to write when there’s so little to write about. Either they won’t let me write about a thing or it isn’t worth writing about anyway. I can tell you the weather’s rotten which you know anyhow. I can say that things are about the same but the only trouble with that is that I couldn’t tell you how they were in the first place. Well, anyway I’m well and I guess that’s what you want to hear; running off the page so….