Nothins happened since so weve all been hopin that those was just four old shots that the Germans wanted to get rid of. A truck came in last nite with a lot of bread an a quarter of a cow done up in burlap like summer furniture so everybodies forgot the war in favor of a roast beef dinner. It certinly is goin to make me laugh, Mable, if I should ever get home an see those sines about bread all done up in tishue paper what aint never touched human hands since the fello that rapped it up. Over here they handle bread like coal only a little rougher not havin any shoots an things. Our bread comes in round loaves like the French. Its handier to carry an dont bust so easy when it hits things. Ive seen the doboys bore a hole in the middle and sling a loaf over there shoulder with a piece of string like a pair of feel glasse. I suppose theyll be gettin out an order pretty soon about which side your to wear your bread on. After all Ive eat tho I aint dead yet. Of course thats no permanent health certifikate. I started this letter early this mornin. Now its almost nite agen. A fello never can get any work done without gettin interupted in the army. I got to quit now cause I was supposed to relieve Marv Motel on gard half an hour ago sos he could get his supper. I guess he wont mind when he finds out weve gone back to gold fish agen. yours till they split the diference _Bill_ _Dere Mable:_ We fooled the Fritzes by pullin out of that last place before theyd had a chance to split the diference. We came back to this little town for what they call a rest. That word "rest" dont mean the same thing as the one we use. For instance when an oficer comes into the room everybodys supposed to jump up like theyd been sittin on a tack. Then he says "Rest." Youd naturally think he meant lie down an take it easy for an hour or so. All he means is that you dont have to stand like a windo dummie. An then agen when your standin in line an somebody says "Parade rest." Insted of lyin down in the grass somewhere an takin a smoke you grab hold of your thums an stick one foot in front of the other like those old fotografs of your grandfather in the album. The worst kind of rest tho is when you get back in a place like this. That means eight hours a day scrubbin guns an drillin an smoothin out horses. If that doesnt seem to set you on your feet you stand gard all nite. The Bilitin oficer likes this place. Hes got my gun squad in a barn with half the roof shot off an the other half awful undecided. It isnt the part thats gone we mind so much as the part thats left. Id hate to come all this way just to interfere with a brick. Everybody wears there tin derby to bed at nite.