Our New Home

Rarey's letter: April 22, 1944.
Did I tell you that we live in tents now? They are fine, five to a tent, good old eiderdown sleeping robes and a fat little American stove. Rather primitive all in all but comfortable. Being out all the time we eat like horses and the food is excellent - eaten on the grass under the trees. It's night now and everyone is bedding down after a rough day. They are playing some damn good music over the public address system - Elegy, Peer Gynt Suite, Hungarian Rhapsody, and some other beauties. It's mild night and we have the flaps open. Through the opening you can see the black silhouette of tents row on row, black trees behind them with a backdrop of the deepening night. The day is slipping over to the other side of the world and the darkness seeps in like a comforting friend.
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