July 22, 1944

France

July 22, 1944

Dear Mother & all,
          
            I haven’t got anything at all to write tonight and don’t the biggest part of the time, but I know that if I write a line every other day it may convince you that I’m alright. You shouldn’t ever worry, just think of me as the Boy Scout that I am supposed to represent going around picking flowers with a full stomach and sightseeing.

            Our gunner is from Ohio and he is very fond of his drinks, ha. We no sooner pull into a place until he is off to the nearby houses apple cider and anything that is drinkable. He always manages to find some too. He is a good gunner as long as he is sober though.

            I’m learning a new-trade Dad. I’m now practicing to be a fox hole specialist so when and If I’ll be able to dig one in nothing flat. Ha. Then when I get out of the army, I’ll get a nice little card (with pink fringe around it) indicating that I am an experienced member of the ditch-diggers union.

            It has been a little wet and rainy the last few days. Yesterday my bed partner ask if I thought it would ever clear up and I said in a couple days maybe. He says the sun might even come out today and I says not a chance. He got a little hot and bet me 100 francs (2 bucks) that the sun came out but for only eight minutes – boy I was worried, but I won the bet.

            We wouldn’t know that a war was on most of the time if we didn’t hear the news two or three times a day over the radio a day. The news is sure sounding good lately isn’t it? I got it all figured out Dad, I’ll come back home with the house maids knee and draw a pension the rest of my life like ole Doc. What do you think of that idea? How is everything at home? Hope you are all well. This is enough bull for one day.

Love to all,

Your son,

Max