Below is Phil’s second to last letter home before the coming D-Day attack on southern France. It was one of his longer ones. One wonders if he was thinking about the news that he and his men heard about the horrors of the Normandy D-Day.

5 Aug 44

Lt. P. B. Larimore

Hq Co 3^rd BN. 30^th Inf A.P.O. #3

c/o Postmaster Ny Ny.

Somewhere in Italy

Dearest Mom & Pop.

I have a few “extra” minutes so will try to get a note off to you “all.” Got a letter from Dot a couple of days ago. It is the second one she has written me, and in it was a picture of my “niece” (they tell me that’s the way you spell it, but it don’t look right) any way I mean her brat. It is a cute kid. When this outfit comes back to the states and if I am still with it, we will go to San Francisco, as that is the “home” of this Regt. So I guess I will get to see them all then.

NOTE IN THE MARGIN – Dad – I don’t believe your fish story.

No – Mrs. Ford was quite right about every thing she said. I was not in Combat at that time and am still not. But I am much below the city you think I am in. Quite a bit below that, but in a big port city. When did Mrs. Ford say the war would end? Ask the old Lady when your loving boy is coming home.

Still haven’t gotten the bars or the pictures of Dot. Maybe they will come in later. The army has to(sic) good a postal service, it isn’t often a package will get lost. But it is quite possible that some one who censored it needed a new set of bars. That often happens. I think I have gotten all your packages now. I got the bundle of newspapers and I also get my paper regular. I like to get that.

I’m glad you and Dad had such a good time. It’s about time Dad took off for a rest. He works too damn hard anyway. But there is only one person in our family that can go fishing and come back with “fish”and that [is] me! When I get back I think I’ll teach you how to fly fish so you to(sic) can catch fish. But I guess you two would rather sit on your boat seats and get your only bites from gnats a good coat of sunburn and drown poor little worms. Maybe to you that’s fun. But I can think of better things than that.

Say look honey child when I say I want meat please lets(sic) leave the Vienna sausage out from now on. Back home I get a lot of that and like it. But over here they stuff that down us so much that honest I am sick of it. Other things are swell but don’t waste your ratio points on that stuff.

Mother don’t you worry about “play time.” When I get back home we will have lots of that. About the first month all we will do is play. I want to go up to Hardy Ark. and fish the White River just about where Bertha lived. And lots of other things we have to do. So don’t worry about having a good time when I’m not there. Over here every chance we get to have a time we flat do it. And I have seen some wild ones.

Now to answer your questions

• As I said before I get the papers almost every day now. I think the last one was June 12th which isn’t so bad. It is fun to get the paper even tho I know so few people in Mph now. In fact I don’t think I know 15 people “at this mall time.”
• That was not me in the picture you sent. I don’t get back far enough behind the front lines to see arty. that big very often. Maybe it was the Lt who was gun commander. There are lots of officers over here that I look like. In fact there is one in this Battalion. Lots of the men get us mixed up. In fact one S/Sgt was so sure I wasn’t me and was the other one that he almost called me a liar to my face. So every picture that you see a 1st Lt in isn’t me. Although I know of two New(s) Reels and quite a few correspondents have gotten pictures of me.
• I do not need any more station(ary) and I have gotten the stamps.

Well mom I am getting tired and I can’t write when I don’t want to so I guess I had better stop for now. Write when you have time. I would like to have another package.

With all my love,

Phil

[1] Handwritten letter. Post marked “U.S. Army Postal Service. A.P.O. 3, 6 Aug 44.” Stamped “Memphis, Tenn. De Soto Sta. 20 Aug 1944.” I also have a typed copy — presumably typed by his mother.

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