19, September, 1943, Dear Harriet:

North Africa

19 September 1943

Dear Harriet:

Once again, perhaps a little later than usual, we try to collect our thoughts and put them down in such a fashion that they will make interesting reading. This will not be in answer to a letter because I haven’t received any from you in the past few days. I am complaining, yes, but not because you haven’t written – I know they are on their way. Neither one of us like to see too many days go by, do we?

For the first time in ages I can think of nothing interesting to write. The time is two O’Clock PM. It’s plenty hot and the day has been set aside as a holiday. I haven’t taken off because I have no desire to go anywhere. One couldn’t enjoy himself in this heat anyway. My laundry just arrived – nothing missing for a change; had tent inspection – shoves everything under my bunk as usual and let it go at that. Our show schedule has been cut to two nights a week. More time to think about Harriet now.

Set up this ping pong table in the club last week. I played a few games the other night. First time I picked up a paddle for over a year. Never lost a game – lucky me. I haven’t played since, I’m afraid that someone might beat me.

Jack Benny was in Tunis night before last. I was unable to catch the show – Don’t know whether I’m glad or sorry. From what I could gather it wasn’t so hot. Heard his broadcast the same afternoon and it was plenty flat.

In case you were ever anxious about my behavior, it might interest you to know that I received the good conduct ribbon yesterday. Just call me “Little Lord Flauntleroy of North Africa.” Oh what did I do to deserve this: Maybe it was something I didn’t do, who knows.

Was browsing through the Life Magazine, Aug 2nd Issue, which just arrived today. The summer clothes that the girls are wearing these days are too too skirts that zip off at a moments notice, those bare midriff type. Those cute little whatsis, only help to remind me of what I have been missing the past year or so. I’ll just die if I don’t get home in the summer time – What am I saying: Just take me home, the season is immaterial. I have been trying to picture you in some of these play suits. You’re quite an eyeful, believe me – nice legs too. Summer is kind to the male and to the female who can wear such clothing well. For myself, I never wore much of anything this time of the year. Out at the club I’ll put on a pair of swimming trunks and live in them for days at a time. Didn’t much worry about shoes either. Why a person will live to be a hundred and fifty years old under those conditions. If I don’t get out here pretty soon I won’t see fifty- and that’s on a clear day.

Tomorrow is Sunday – remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labor and do all thy work, but the seventh is the Sabbath, in it thou shalt not do any work—I thought we overlooked something when we got into this war. Only one thing I like about Sunday – no roll call. We usually have a good breakfast too. Hotcakes, fried eggs on French toast. Speaking of food, I could stand a little right now. I went three rounds with that baby before making an impression.

Going to walk down to the mess kitchen now and see what’s on the menu for tonight, so will say solong. Hello to Mr and Mrs ‘V’.

Thinking of you always,


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