August 23, 1944
Am sitting on a little rise in ground slightly above the new location for the hospital. As yet, no business, though our team was complimented by being the only outside team to be in the forward echelon.
Had a nice ride through the countryside in the late afternoon and evening, and it certainly was a pleasure to be touring this country instead of Africa, Italy, etc. It’s amazing how nice it is here, how peaceful the countryside appears and how clean and typically French the small towns are. Towns further from the coast apparently were not cleared like those right along the coast, and the people sit around the town square, doing their knitting, etc.
Stopped in one town and everything seemed normal except for the scattered armed partisans and an occasional French girl with the American Invasion arm-band flag adorning her dress sleeve.
Another sight for sore eyes has been the fields of true grass — lawns that have even better grass than the Merced Golf Club. Which reminds me, one of the very first spots we saw was a very nice golf course. If only we had clubs, and, of course, the time!
Loads of love,
Watch for my next letter
August 24, 1944