JULY 31, 1944
HYDE PARK, Sunday—On the afternoon of the 26th, after leaving Lake Junaluska, we drove to Moore General Hospital, a military hospital where there are nearly a thousand patients. Many of them are able to be up and about for at least part of the time, so these were gathered in the Red Cross recreation hall, where I had a chance to talk with them.
The policy of getting our wounded into hospitals as near home as possible is well exemplified here. I found only one boy whose home was in California. All the others lived within a radius of a few hundred miles, and some were very near to their families. The boys here are back from all the different fronts, and I think it must be a great joy to them to find themselves in this delightful climate after the many months spent on the Anzio beachhead, in the mountains of Italy or on the islands of the Pacific.
I was able to go through only three wards where there were bed patients, but at the end of one of these wards I came upon four wounded German prisoners. The German type is not very different from some of our own men, and these four had begun to lose the gauntness and drawn expression which characterize fighting men when they first come out of battle zones. Their wounds were being treated, and one boy, who had tuberculosis of the spine, was in bed. I am sure that in every way we live up to the Geneva Convention, and I only hope our enemies will do the same for our men.
Dr. Guy Snavely, who has a summer cottage at Lake Junaluska, traveled back on the train with me and helped to find my grandson, who joined me at Greensboro, North Carolina. The train was late and made only a brief stop at the station, so that all of us were rather breathless when, after hasty farewells to the kind people who had brought him down, we finally got my grandson aboard for the last lap of our journey.
I did not have time, while in Waynesboro, to stop at the little gift shop which had sent over some lovely hooked rugs and brightly-colored Indian woven baskets as decorations for one of the rooms in the hotel. I can never resist baskets, so perhaps it was just as well I could not stop. Otherwise I should probably have found myself traveling home burdened down with more of them, when I already have samples from many parts of the world which I rarely use.
As usual, we have a succession of guests. This is the nicest part of living in the country—people can drop in on you. I have almost caught up with the mail which accumulated while I was gone, and by next week I will be back, feeling really leisurely again.