12/25/1944

Dec 25, 1944

Dear

Last night was Christmas Eve and I was thinking then that it sure didn’t seem like it. Not anything like what it all meant to us if we were back there.

I went to the show and there was a little short on Christmas carols featuring Stokowski (I think) Marion Anderson, and a certain choir. When I heard those carols, I kind of realized that there was a complete lack of “Christmas spirit” in me. There was nothing to look forward to except a big eat. The mess hall here seems to have been decorated for some time but in spite of all that, to me it didn’t suggest the atmosphere of Christmas.

Incidentally, I am not in the hospital now but I wish I was. I was discharged a few days ago and here, I have met many of my friends again.

We’re lucky to spend Christmas in a place like this away from the front lines. It certainly won’t be an enjoyable day today but thank God it’s not in a hole half full of water, with shells and bullets and cold and what not for presents from Jerry.

I might say that I’ve been writing pretty regularly while I was in the hospital. Well, now that I’m on my way back to the outfit, the letters may get to be long between, ah —— if you know what I mean.

I suppose that you all gathered for awhile [sic] at nesan’s and somebody got drunk or something. If we were back in the states I know it would be a busy day as it was last year. Comming [sic] up here, I had five glasses of beer and it wasn’t bad, considering that it was French beer.

God damn its [sic] cold in here, no heat.

Well, so long.

Love
Stan

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