Last Saturday, the seventh, as I was raking and burning some leaves by our quarters, the news was passed along that the two camps were to be thrown together, and also that mail was being distributed — some for me. I had two messages from Bernice, nearly a year old, two messages from Lora Jean, and later on a message from Arvilla Turner. They were short, but worth their weight in gold to our hearts, and spirits.
The reason for putting the two camps together is that the military wants the gymnasium, where many men are quartered, for a hospital, and these men are now being transferred to our camp along with others. In our barracks we have a variety of newcomers — eighteen Dutch priests, two families of Italians, and six single men. I was appointed on the housing committee with several others, and we had quite a difficult time shuffling the different ones around so the different families, sects, sexes, and nationalities would fit.
Our garden is doing nicely. We have had many messes of string beans, and twice we have had green corn. Our tomatoes are doing nicely, too. I helped Willie put up a trellis for them. Cecil and I went up on the hill back of the camp last week to carry wood for fuel for our camp kitchen. Many men went. We had a nice view out over the lake. Things are getting tough, food is getting short, and tension is increasing. We have only two meals a day now.