France

July 17, 1944

Dear Mom,

It's a little hard to write on a full stomach but that's literally what I am attempting to do. I am half-reclining on a bed with my writing pad propped on my knee, having just finished the best meal we've had in months.

We bought two calves, gathered some potatoes and beans and cider and had ourselves a treat. Best of all perhaps, were some slices of white bread, which we have received a couple of times since we pulled back for a rest.

Our last battle was really rough and I don't know yet how I came through unscratched. I wound up temporarily in command of three companies but now I am back on my old job.

Yesterday I took two war correspondents over the area we came through. One was from the "Chicago Times" but I don't recall his name. The other was from a news syndicate. After seeing them, I don't have too much faith in war correspondents in general. The Times man took my name and address so you may find it included somewhere in an article.

Your letter came the other day and today the one from Mrs Weymouth arrived which you sent.

Did I tell you I saw Lt. Josendale a few weeks ago? He still is liaison officer between Division and Corps and is getting about as fat as I was. Haven't seen him since though.

I still can't get used to these long daylight hours. It's almost 10:30 and just now getting dusky.

Back in the area we came through the French civilians are already filtering back into their shattered houses trying to pick up the thread of life from war's ruin. It's beyond me where they hide themselves when the fighting sweeps thorough their area.

Love,

Bob