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Dearest Mother:-
It's almost mess time but I am going to scratch you a line before I eat. I
am running short on gas but hope I can pick up some when I hear from home
again. Our mail did not reach us again today so we still have something to
look forward to. There isn't anything to write about only my work and we
are getting into a phase now where you almost have to see it to understand
what it is like. We are getting lectures on gasing & bombing and such and
it is not at all easy to tell about unless you tell the whole thing. I
made a big mistake when I sent my blanket home because the weather here is
cold. The day we landed was the only warm day we had. At night it is very
cold. So if you will I wish you would parcel post it to my address. I hate
to be writing home for things when I am supposed to be a soldier but I
know you will gladly do this for me. As for the knitted things we are not
allowed to wear anything but the sweater. Dad knows what the weather is
like down here. Roses are blooming, then it feels like snow.
They say it is this way on the other side all the time. I weakened for a
little last night. We had real stew for supper and just for an instant I
got a whiff of something when I entered that smelled like that old pot pie
I used to lay myself out on and almost got homesick. However you can't
step into the kitchen here and say how you want things. I don't need these
things to remember you though, Mother. I really must close now.
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