Then on November 1, they took Phil to the operating room to further debride and suture up both leg wounds (the bullet entrance wound, and the bullet exit wound).[1]

The next day, Phil wrote to his parents:

2 Nov 44   

Lt. P. B. Larimore, Hq Co 3rd BN. 30th Inf A.P.O. #3, c/o Postmaster N.Y.C.

France

Dearest Mother and Dad, 

Just another note to let you know that I am still doing fine.

They have operated on my leg and sewed it up so all I’ve got to do now is lay in bed and let it get well.

But they won’t let me get out of bed and that’s bad, cause oh! Bed pans, how I hate them, and they make me use them.

That’s the only bad part, except that I have to sleep on my back and I can’t do that. So, I try to lay on my side, but that hurts my leg so back on to my back I go again, that goes on all night.

But all in all it isn’t so bad. I’m inside, warm, lay in bed all the time, eat 3 meals a day and use the damn bed pan.

I guess my mail will be a week or so later than usual getting to me because it has to be rerouted to me now.

Oh yes, I’m in a general hospital. They tell me I may be sent to a hospital further in the area. I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think I’ll be sent out of France.

 Well Mom, I’ll close now but will try to write very soon again.

Love, Phil[1]

~~~~~ 

[1] Larimore, At First Light, 169

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