Friday, September 15, 1944

Dearest Gee.

No letter from you yesterday or today again, so far. Maybe I’ll get one later on tonight.

Well, according to the radio announcers and newspapermen, the war was supposed to be over today, wasn’t it? I haven’t noticed it slackening up any around here. The news does sound better day by day but it isn’t over by a long ways yet. Those radio guys will have you nuts if you listen to them long enough.

I suppose my next letters from you will be from Chicago. The last one I got you were getting ready to go back again. I hope Linda doesn’t get as bad as Little Harry. You can expect some of that from a boy but a girl should be different. It’s too bad Mrs. Croft feels the way she does. After all those two things I sent weren’t worth anything only as souvenirs. In fact, that’s about all any of the stuff is. How did the tapestry turn out after you washed it. Don’t imagine it’s worth much only “hysterically”.

France is a pretty poor place to pick up anything as far as souvenirs go. If we ever get back some place for a rest maybe I can run across something for you. I believe the French people are worse off for food than the dagoes were.

Well, honey, there’s really nothing much to write about till I hear from you. I’m fine so far. Do you still have trouble with your feet? Glad you got your teeth all fixed. Wish I could say the same. Sure love you and sweating out seeing you soon.

So long now.

Snook

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