France

Sept 9, 1944
11:30 AM

Dearest Helen,

Just in from the luxury of a hot shower, once an experience so common that it was put in the same category with breathing, yawning, etc. – but now categorized with such things as diamonds, champagne, etc.

I’ve decided to write now as I’ve just learned I’m on guard tonight. (Naturally, I’m thrilled to death.) So I’m trying to get this off for tomorrow morning’s mail.

My visit to town proved to be quite an experience – amazing in fact – viewing things that, in spite of the various erotica I have viewed in the past, made my eyes pop. I suppose an intense study of French mores and folkways as a foundation to prepare one for their customs would be desirable, but all my knowledge on the subject came from books, which I naturally thought highly exaggerated – a gross error.

The cafes we visited proved to be glorified brothels – with the help wandering about in various stages of undress, performer lewd and lascivious acts nonchalantly and carrying their eager victims off to the “back rooms” with business-like dispatch. A three piece orchestra providing the music for “dancing,” played what they considered hot American jazz, but only added to the bedlam. The place was crowded with troops of all nations, uniforms ranging from bright-colored to our O.D. To add to the erotica d’amour the walls were covered with pornographic murals.

For a while, I found it very amusing, but in due time I tired of these sights, in fact found it depressing and left for the clean air. I’ve given you only an outline of the events, and perhaps that’s enough. The rest will make for another story later.

The mail I expected last night didn’t arrive, so, again I’ll be looking for you in the mail bag. It seems like such a long time since we’ve had mail, and such a long, long time since I last saw you, though I remember every minute of that evening – May 1st I think it was – am I right?

All my love,
Ted