OCTOBER 1, 1944
Dear Mother and Dad,
I'm seeing the world, in installments. This country seems a great deal better than Italy. During the week days they work hard and on Sundays they dress up and take the day off. In Italy Sunday seemed like any other day.
I haven't seen a great deal of the country yet. Some of the neighboring farm houses, however, look like something from Beach Cliff, even to the intricate, freshly painted front yard fences - they are painted white. Windows and shutters are generally blue or green.
My first acquaintance with a hard working Frenchman was with the station master of the town where we detrained. He kept the station records, coupled and uncoupled cars in the yards, directed the switching, and checked every car in each long troop train after it was unloaded. The telephone had an outside bell - so that when he was in the yards he could hear it. The freight cars in France still have "40 men or eight horses" printed on them.
The nights are cool now but it gets hot daytimes. Since this isn't enemy territory we probably will not have a chance to use choice buildings for our headquarters. I pitched my tent for the first time since early last June.
Our unit makes quite a tent city when you look at it from a nearby hill. The kitchens are under a roof only- known as a "kitchen fly". The inhabitants are wandering up and down the roads today, it being Sunday.
It's about supper time now, so I'll say goodbye.