August 24th 1944 Letter to Beatrice Winsor-Mom Dearest.

Somewhere in France Aug 24th

Mom Dearest,

Sorry I've neglected you so long, but things get to piling up over here and it's dark before I even get started with what I want to get done. Besides that, mail service is just something that "isn't" so getting mail out or in for that matter isn't a speedy process.

I don't know what I can say about France other than generalities but I hope too much isn't clipped out. At least I can say the army is trying to make soldiers of us cause there's no way of living but to try to exist under field conditions as best as possible. Pup tents camouflaged and pitched as close as possible to a nice deep foxhole and a prayer that the rain won't wash you out and that the foxhole is deep enough when the krauts decide to lob over some fire works is generally the order of the day. Chow is very good if dehydrated foods, canned cheese and meats, crackers and candy sit well. The only thing I really rebel at is not being able to keep clean. Sponge baths and scraping help but clothes don't dry even if there's a place to wash them. The French have been wonderful to us, helping in any way they can-with eggs, vegetables in the eating line, and cider and cognac (when there is any) just as much as they can.

Tell Leona I'll write tomorrow. It's too dark to see now. Gee mom, do I wish I could be home right now. None of you can appreciate the meaning of that word "home" a thousandth as much as Jim and I and the other dough boys fighting here and elsewhere in this old world. I love & miss you all terribly.

Won't worry-just wait for me, I'll be home soon-Lu

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