11/28/1944

Dear Sis─

I was thinking I might as well kill some time before chow. There isn’t much we can do except read or indulge in a little card game. Its [sic] been a little over a month since I got hit and they’ve got me up and walking around now. Its [sic] not yet completely normal and I’m just awaiting what may develop. So I hope you’re not worried about the whole works.

Right now the radio’s playing out a Command Performance program and Ginny Simms is doing the vocal at this moment. She mentioned something about foxholes but I don’t think guys in foxholes have radios installed in them. But she can sing, and that’s good enough. Cary Grant, Ida Lupino and a mess of others are in it too. Pretty good.

I met a couple of fellow from my company here and we shot the breeze for a couple of hours. A guy likes to know whats [sic] happened since he left and sometimes the news is good, sometimes bad, but most of the time it’s just so so.

I still haven’t contacted Hal here in France. If I were with my outfit now, I suppose I could get to see him.

Hows [sic] people back home going to celebrate this Christmas, I wonder. I know I’m going to miss everything that goes with it, especially the eating part. This will only make the second Christmas away from the islands but to one that’s two too much. And the song “White Christmas” sounds pretty nice but I’d rather not have a white one. Not around a place like here, anyway.

By the way, when you write, keep addressing your letters to Co. A, 100th, 442 Inf.. Regt. Otherwise, it might get all mixed up somewhere and I may never get them.

Being in a hospital with plenty of time on my hands, I try to write regularly, but damn if I can do it. There is no imagination in this thick skull of mine and I can’t write the way some people do. Some people write every day, some even oftener and God knows what they write. Anyway, I appreciate a letter more if I have to sweat it out. I know a guy who receives on the average of 3 a day from the same person and he very rarely bothers to read it, just opens it and burns em [sic].

Well, take care of yourself.

Love
Stan