Dear Mudder and Dad,
I know I’ve been neglecting you “sumpin” fierce for the last few days and if you’re mad I don’t blame you in the least. I did write you a letter on V-E Day but the paper was so thick that I couldn’t get the damn thing into any envelope I could find.
Well, the great day has come and gone. On V-E night I believe 99.44% of everybody in the E.T.O. was plastered—even the kraut civilians. I guess everyone is happy that the thing is finished. To quote a popular G.I. phrase—“all is Kaput fur Deutschland.”
Considering the fact that we were fighting so bitterly such a short time ago, it’s awfully hard to believe that the war here is really over. To tell you the truth there’s been a “helluva” lot of times when I’ve seriously doubted that I’d be alive to see this day. After having gone through that there’s certainly no doubt in my mind about there being a God. Shrapnel and machine gun bullets can just miss a person so many times and still remain in the realm of coincidence.
Right now I’m in a small town “Somewhere in Germany” and it seems there’s a good chance of my staying here even as long as a year. I hope so. It’s about time combat troops got a break.
Last night they announced the point system and there’s a good chance of me getting my discharge sometime in the fall of nineteen-eleventy five; that’s if I’m lucky. I’m not complaining though as long as they keep me on this side of the world. I hope, I hope, I hope.
We’re quickly adjusting ourselves to garrison life. Military courtesy, clean uniforms, clean shaves, this and that. You know Harvard School stuff. Not that it isn’t a very good thing, but after living like a bum for months it’s a bit confusing to say the least—but I love it. I don’t care how tough they get with us. The toughest training schedule in the world would be a picnic as compared to our lines.
I’m due to get new clothes in a few days—clean new trousers and shirt, shiny shoes, overseas cap, Eisenhower jacket, the works—Boy! Will I slay ‘em. That’s what it takes to impress these dumb Jerries. The fact that we chewed up one German army after another doesn’t mean a thing. We’re not good soldiers if we don’t wear a snazzy uniform. What jerks! When I get the outlay I’ll have a snapshot taken and send it to you.
That about does it. I know you feel as happy as I do right now and let’s hope all the Japs slit their throats to save their faces so we’ll be together again in the near future.
Best Love, Bill