April 1944: Woody Guthrie records “This land is your land”; See: http://www.npr.org/2000/07/03/1076186/this-land-is-your-land
4/1/44 Africa
Gremlin:
The change I have undergone in the past week is miraculous. The town here is almost back to normal, there being very few soldiers on the streets. A week ago my mind was laboring in sort of a haze—I couldn’t reason or make sensible decisions. Now, it is almost back to normal. Not hearing continuous gunfire has helped no end.
Mama & Rita & Marcel are spoiling me no end. They worry about my cold and that takes their minds off of Rita which is good.
Hey—start thinking about that French as I am becoming more & more convinced that it may be useful to us one of these days.
Yesterday I spent the afternoon on the farm. There are yet a few vestiges of the Jerry occupation, but they are fast disappearing. Marcel has an old Frenchman (66 years old) managing the place for him. He is as spry as any average man of 25. I loaned him my knife (which I bought before my scout knife carve) and I couldn’t help seeing how his eyes lit up when he saw it. I tried to give it to him, but he said an old French proverb was not to stain a friendship with unpaid gifts. So we settled for 1 franc. We brought back a lot of lettuce, Swiss chard, beets, carrots, lemons, etc. After four hours of walking up and down the rows, I was pretty well tired.
Marcel is now VP of the Textiles Commission and is working quite hard. They are charged with the job of clothing a hell of a lot of people—out of nothing.
Nouro, the wire-haired terrier, is making it most difficult to write. He is jumping up on me with the obvious intent of starting something. He is quite a character, being vastly superior to any mere human being.
When the French girls say you are chic—well I guess you must look as good to others as you do to me.
At my present rate of progress, your hair should be a very nice length by the time I get home.
I love every little bit of you. Your own, Cy