Co. B - 45th Med. Bn.
3rd Armd. Div.
Camp Polk, La. 

Sunday Eve.

Dear Jeanne,

‘Got both your letters this past week, one on Monday and the other, day before yesterday, on Friday. Hon’, you must be psychic. Monday morning it poured cats, dogs, and little fishes; and Monday morning Pvt. L. Winsauer was put in charge of a detail which was to remove three G.D. tremendous tree stumps from the middle of our drill field. By ten o’clock we had two of them out, ‘were soaked to the skin, and were all in such a lousy mood that we were about ready to tell any officer from the General down, that that third stump could damn well stay right where it was until hell gets as hot as Camp Polk (impossible), or until it rotted away. BUT, at one minute after ten the orderly tore out of headquarters in his raincoat with a special delivery letter for yours truly, and at once that third stump looked a heck of a lot smaller, the rain felt only half as wet, and the temperature dropped all of 20°—I swear it did.

Then on Friday—We got back from a ten mile hike Fri. morning just before mail call (11:30, hotter and drier than baked spuds—and there was your second letter. I went to the barracks, drank about a gallon of water, lay down on my cot and read—I felt just some better—no certain amount, just some. 

We spent all last Tuesday on the firing range shooting our new Thompson sub-machine guns—boy, that’s just some gun—it’s concentrated death—The gun weighs only 16 pounds and shoots 45 cal. shells at the rate of 750 shots per minute—and that’s some shooting.

Wednesday we were given instructions in anti-aircraft defense—which to us means no more than getting off the road and making ourselves scarce in fields and woods. 

Thursday night I was on guard duty and had to march from 8:00-10:00 P.M and from 2:00 to 4:00 A.M.—more darn fun—‘had a little trouble with two drunks at three in the morning, but outside of that it was an uneventful night.

Friday afternoon we were given gas mask drill while on the march, and later we were sent through a gas chamber filled with tear gas. While inside, we had to take off our masks for about 30 seconds, them put them back on and tear out of the chamber. Everyone had a good cry over the whole thing once they got out.

Saturday morning we have our weekly inspection so everyone pitches in to help clean the barracks; polish shoes, press pants, etc. (Incidentally you should see the crease I can put in a pair of pants in about two minutes)

Yesterday afternoon I took a two hour workout with the gloves (I’m on the Company B boxing team), and we didn’t get back to camp ’till after two. We had only a fair time however and might just as well have been home by midnight or earlier. 

‘Went to eight o’clock mass this morning and hung around the barracks, playing horseshoe, sleeping and reading the rest of the day. 

Last Sunday some of the Kohler boys from Camp Livingston came over and we rounded up Stan and another kid from Kohler who is here and had quite a time talking about the army and home.

—I just got into a bull session with some of the boys about an hour ago and now it’s getting pretty late, so I’m afraid I’ll have to say goodnight, darling, ’till tomorrow night when I’ll be able to finish this letter. (We were discussing our chances of getting home over Labor Day—but we all agreed the chances were pretty slim.)

Monday Eve

Hello again—‘Received your card this morning—Anytime that hearing from you gets on my nerves I’d like to know about it. I’ll probably be the first one at mail call from now until that “long” you spoke of gets here. The more often I hear from you, the better I’ll like it—Am I a selfish (CENSORED), or am I a selfish (DITTO)? I like to receive letters, but will I write one?—No.

I have your last letter before me and from it I gather that your gals have been raising just some hell (THAT WAS ALMOST CENSORED), while your parents were away—Boy, what I wouldn’t have given to have been in on some of those parties (YES, THAT’S AN “R”).

I. Godfrey and Bob-Mission-House-Chrysler had better take it easy, or there’s going to be just some snowing under done when this army gets back to town—that is, if they’re not too big. Are they?

‘Am anxiously awaiting the arrival of your picture—How come you tear yourself down so in your letter? Do I think you’re goofy looking? Yeh, goofy looking like Loretta Young, Rita Hayworth, Betty Petty, etc.—I go for all you goon girls—but definitely. 

You asked for a picture of me—and if I had one I’d be more than glad to send it—but I don’t have any at present—Which reminds me—remember that yellow sweater? Well I still have it down here, but haven’t had a chance to have it cleaned as yet; if you still want it I’ll have it cleaned and sent to you. 

They’re blowing taps now so I’ll have to cut it short and say goodnight in a hurry—so goodbye for now darling,

Love,

Louis