‘I’ll Bet Italy Is a Nice Place When It Doesn’t Rain’

Dated Nov. 23, 1943; postmarked Dec. 2.

Dear Folks,

I am well, happy and safe and I hope you all are the same.

I received two packages today, one from you and one from Aunt Mary. I don’t know what made you put the olives in, but they sure do taste good. As a matter of fact, I was hoping you’d put one can in every package. Those caramels are good, too, and I like the way you are keeping me supplied with cigarettes and gum. Aunt Mary’s package had the hard sausage and caramels and candy bars and gum in it. That was treat, too.

I’ll bet Italy is a nice place when it doesn’t rain. Right now, we are slopping around in mud up to our knees. It’s that thick, gooey, slushy stuff that you pick up more of every time you take a step. All we do here all day long is building fires to dry the mud off of our feet. The reason it takes all day to dry our feet is because we have to plow through the stuff continually to get enough wood to keep the fire going. Then again, it’s a long, muddy walk to the kitchen from here.

I haven’t heard from Vince in a long time, so I shall write to him in the not too distant future. He ought to be having a good time back there by now.

Well, it’s raining again here and if it keeps up, I’ll be forced to stay in the car all night. Last night, I went to sleep under a clear, starry sky and woke up in the middle of the night laying in a pool of water up to my neck. I spent the remainder of the night here in the car with McClaine, of whom I have already oriented you.

All good things must come to an end sometime or other, and so it becomes with this letter. Hence, give my love to all and kiss Rosemarie for me. That’s all, folks.

Love & Kisses,


PDF: ‘I’ll Bet Italy Is a Nice Place When It Doesn’t Rain’

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