July 13,1944
Italy
 
Dear Mother and Dad,
         Don't be alarmed at the pencil. The situation isn't serious. Nobody had foresight enough to bring ink. I have some stored about fifty miles back. Next time I'll keep it with me.
         As seems usual for this time of year, it's bright and sunny. Back where I am, it's generally quiet and today promises to be even quieter than usual.
         The country is still picturesque. There is a hillside rising before me now that looks like a toy scene. You can see small houses, orderly rows of light green olive trees, the closer darker green lines of vineyards; and a few incidental trees: some of them large and twisted, some of them very tall and slim.
         The last few days we have been getting hot meals, which are always a relief- even though the cooking isn't generally so good.
         As I've intimated, life hasn't been to hard. I turned down a recent chance to spend four days in a rest camp at Rome. I'm having a better time here - and a little of even the best of Italian cities goes a long way. They send troops there in rotation.
         Right now - in the way of fruit - we are getting fresh figs. They have a rather peculiar taste - and a lot of men don't care for them. Personally , I think they are very good.
         The men seem fond of the Italian onions. They are always raiding patches and coming back with big bunches of them. They eat them raw, or stir them into all sorts of concoctions, including the canned rations.
         When the men aren't working they are eating. As I have said before - we are getting hot food at present, but they all have rations that were issued for emergency. In between meals, they eat the emergency rations usually in combination with what they have bargained for or pilfered from the local farms.
         In case I don't get a chance to write, remember me to both the grandmas and to grandpa.