Dear Mudder and Dad,
I’m trying to write everyday now if possible or at least every other day. The mail situation here is terrible and it’s so damn ridiculous. They could make excuses while the war was going on and they were acceptable but for now there’s just no reason for it. It’s always the same in the army. There’s not a blooming thing a person can say or do. It’s just T.S. as far as the army is concerned.
I’m sending you a copy of the “Powderhorn”, our regimental newspaper. They came around the other day and signed me up to do some work for the paper but since then I’ve heard nothing about it.
Having read this issue I’m satisfied that I could do better. Some of it reeks with that self satisfied kind of humor that one often finds in the works of a self-supposed literary genius. I can just see the smirk on P.F.C. Frank Gurley’s face when he rereads that “Oh so cute” little opus “Hot sut Vaihingen”. A little of that sort of thing is not too objectionable but when they start shoveling the ---- about it. Well. That article is about 1/10 description of Vaihingen and 9/10 tribute to the amazingly humorous Mrs. Gurley. Maybe since I know Mr. Gurley, I’m a little prejudiced.