Dated Aug. 6, 1944; postmarked Aug. 16, 1944.
I am well, happy, and safe and I hope you all are the same.
I went swimming yesterday and must say the Mediterranean is one of the best seas in the world for swimming. It is warm and clear and it is as salty as can be. It is both as blue as the sky and as green as the grass, but close up it looks crystal clear. It can be as rough as a mad bull and the next minute be as tame as a young lamb.
In Africa, though, there always was a good sandy beach lining the coast, but here, there is nothing but rocks and so sharp that they come up and snap at us. However, we have been walking over those rocks so much that we wore the points off of them.
This isn’t my typewriter, which explains the poor spacing it insists upon using. It is a fairly old typewriter and it has been abused so much that there isn’t much hope for continued operation with any degree of efficiency.
Today is Sunday and it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if I suddenly felt a strong desire to visit the beach for a small refreshing swim while it is still too hot to do anything else. I will be able to swim all day today since there is no work to be done.
I know where Gordon Ferguson and the Joes are, but they are too far away from me right now for me to see them and if they don’t get on the ball and move a little closer to me I probably never will get a chance to see them. I still haven’t received any of their addresses yet, so how about sending them to me? If I had their address, it would be much easier for me to find them.
Love & Kisses,