Somewhere in France, July 1918

Dearest Olive:

It is a little difficult to write you so often when I do not get any word from you, but all we can do is to write and let each other know who we are from time to time. I suppose that we will get the mail all in a bundle when it does come. Remember that it does not cost any more to send mail to me than it did at home, not as long as it is handled by the American Expeditionary forces.

I have plenty of money and will need none so far as I know. I think that we will be paid very regularly here. I understand that all enlisted men get an increse [sic] of 20% in pay.

I am glancing at a French book from time to time and am gradually picking up a scanty vocabulary. The pronounciation [sic] is so difficult. I was out again yesterday evening visiting a farm house. Took my French book with me and conversed just a little with the people. That seem to be the only way to catch the language. The French are certainly convivial.

They are drilling the boys fairly hard now. We will undoubtedly remain billeted here in this town for five [redacted] or six [redacted] weeks [redacted] and then move to a [redacted] [redacted] [MSC–almost readable] for further equipment and training. Unless something unforseen [sic] occurs, I hardly think that the regiment can experience any real action for at least [redacted] [redacted]. This is all a guess but think that it is a good one.

I am enjoying my stay here. Our quarters are just as good as they were at Camp Sherman. The bathing facilities are not so good. Must walk for about three or four miles to a river. The water is good for bathing after one arrives. I took a bath near our quarters today.

The demands of the people are much different here from that of Americans, but I suppose that they will finally discover that we want.

I think I told you that we have the P.O. in the town hall.

Yours affectionately,

Clyde.