"Same old Bill, eh Mable!", Edward Streeter [freda ebook reader .TXT] 📗
- Author: Edward Streeter
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About noon they got us out at some stashun sos the Captin could give us the devil for not keepin neat an clean. Nobody minded much cause he didnt look as tho hed spent the night in no dry cleaners himself.
Well, Mable, we just sat there for three days an three nights. I began to think we must be goin home by the overland root. The only reason we didnt murder nobody was because we didnt have room. Every once in a while wed stop at a stashun an some red cross nurses would bring around coffee. Only they wasnt red an they wasnt cross. Most of us was so glad to see a woman that we could say something to besides "Ah We" that we didnt menshun the coffee. Its funny what youll take from a woman when it would be death for a mess sargent.
The Captin said wed have to stay in this town a week or two on account of the school were goin to bein full. The Bilitin oficer came down ahead as usual. This time he only had two days. After seein what he could do in a month we didnt expect much. We got it. Ten of us are roomin in a hay barn. The only good thing about it is that when your in bed the Top sargent cant tell wether your there or not without takin out all the hay.
As soon as we got here I noticed something awful strong an it wasnt no geranium bed ether. Were getting used to it now. You can tell how rich a Frenchman is by the size of his manure pile. There so proud of them they set them right outside there windos sos they can sit an watch them an never forget them. The bigger the pile the bigger man you are in your home town. All I can say is Im glad the people we live with is poor. Id hate to be bileted with the Mayor.
I got to quit now. The sensor cuts out most of this anyway. They say he tears off half of every letter to lighten the mails.
au reservoir as the French say
Bill
Dere Mable:
Id have rote you sooner only the sensor wont let me tell where I am an I couldnt think of nothin else to say. This is the third letter Ive rote since we landed. Im a little worried about the other two cause the Captin said we couldnt menshun the names of no places. So I just addressed them to Mable Gimp, nothin else.
In case you dont receive letters like that I wish youd let me know. Then I wont be expectin any answer. Ritin letters from here is like talkin to a fello over the fone that aint there.
Im having a little trouble with the languige. Its tricky. A lot of these French words is the same as ours only they dont mean the same thing. Like "Pan" an "We" an "Mercy" an "Toot sweet." As soon as I find what the words stand for Ill be all right.
Some of the fellos dont seem to get onto the idear of this thing at all. They think if they talk like they had an egg in there mouth an put in lots of zs its French. Take Joe Loomis for instance. He talks like a German thats lived with the French Canadians for a while. Hell go into a lunch room an say "Geeve me ze beef stak rar, mit ze on-yon." Then he gets sore when they put the wine list in front of him.
It aint the wine list that makes him sore of course. He cant get over the American custom tho of eatin with his meals.
The first three days we was here we didnt have no guns nor horses or nothin. I thought perhaps the Captin would give us a chance to get over that rest camp, but he seems to have an idear tho that just so many of us has got to be killed in the war an the quicker he gets it over with the better. So every day he walks us about ten killen meters with the sun hot enuff to boil eggs.
The guns came yesterday. There painted up like a ten cent sunset. They call them Soizant Cans, whatever kind that is. They look pretty much in the bean blower class to me. One of those guns we left back in the States would take care of the four of them. But of course after polishin those up last winter till I almost wore them out the Captin had to come off an forget them. I guess now were stuck with these.
No horses came with the guns. I suppose we got to pull them around ourselves for the rest of the war. I can just here the Captin tellin Gen. Perishing, "No, no, General. My men havnt got a thing to do. Outside of a couple of single mounts for the oficers I wont need a horse."
I wish your mother could see the wimmin wash close over here. She might get more enjoyment out of that lawndress of hers. There is a lot of summer houses down beside a creek behind the town. Every day they go down there an stand in a barrel right in the creek. First they take the close an drag them around the creek for a while. Then they lay them on a wooden block an beat the buttons off them with a big board. A button in a steam lawndry leads a life of quiet ease compared with these.
"BEAT THE BUTTONS OFF THEM WITH A BIG BOARD"
After they get them hammered out flat they hang them on a barb wire fence. In the evening they take home anything the cows has left in an old wheelbarro. I guess by that time there dirty enuff to wash agen cause there always washin and you dont see no results.
We spend all our time now drillin with those little guns. Of course there different from those we had in the States so everything we learned over there has to be forgot. As far as I can make out we might as well have learned basket weavin for all the good it did us.
Well, Mable, have as good a time as you can at home. I know how tiresome those broken-winded fellos must be. Id go around with them tho once in a while in case they should ask you. Democratic. Thats me all over, Mable. Its the only thing your father an me has got in common. Besides it will make it seem all the better when I get home.
Yours in spite of these things
Bill
Dere Mable:
I guess your last letter must have been sensored to death cause I never got it. I been over here three weeks now an the only letter I got was a bill for some flowers I sent you a year ago. That fello would make more money as a detective then a flowerist. I bet hed have found Charlie Ross if Charlied owed him any money. I expect to be sittin propped up agenst the wall some day in the Old Soldiers Home an about six postmen will come staggerin in the gate with my mail. Keep on ritin tho. I can always turn it over to some historical society.
Saturday an Sunday was the end of the week so the Captin let a few of us go in to a big town near here to take a bath. Hes always tryin to stick a little extra duty like that into a mans private time.
Me an Angus an Marv Motel went down together in a truck. I dont suppose you ever road in a truck with only two other fellos in it. I bet it goes farther up an down then straight ahead. Angus was all for seein the town as soon as we got there, that bein about the only thing that didnt involve spendin money. We compromized by seem the restawrants first.
Its interesting to lissen to the French eat, they enjoy things so. Everyone tucks there napkins under there chins like your father used to before he had a hired girl insted of your mother.
"EVERYONE TUCKS THERE NAPKINS UNDER THERE CHINS"
The French is awful optimistic eaters. By takin everything separate they can work themselves into believin theyve had a course dinner. If they had such a thing as oatmeal an cream I bet theyd make you eat the oatmeal first an drink the cream afterwards.
Every time you look away you get a clean plate. All you need to start a restawrant in France is a thousand plates an a dozen eggs. The rest of the food doesnt matter much. About everything you ask for is "Defended." That seems to be the same as "Just out" in American. In most places its just a question of how long you can think of things to ask for before you end up with an omlet. The only place you can get real French cookin Mable is in the States.
Theres a bunch of French soldiers in town. Most of them have beards an little bags hangin all over them. I wish theyd let us wear beards. You wouldnt have to go round with your collar buttoned all the time then.
When I first got into town I thought it must be a holiday or something cause the saloons was overflowin right out on the sidewalks. Everybody was sittin round at little tables drinkin beer. I went in one tho an there wasnt a soul inside but flies. It certinly is mixin. In one place a fello wont take a drink unless he can go behind a screen. Over here he wont have it anywhere but in the middle of the street. I can see your father sittin out on Main street in a wicker chair with a stein of beer in his hands.
Well Mable at the rate Im not receivin mail I wont be able to tell wether its last winter or next winter that your talkin about when I finally get your letters. Im going to keep on ritin tho just to annoy the sensor.
Yours in haste
Bill
Dere Mable:
In a training camp once more beginin all over agen. If we had a school system like this in civil life a fello would never live to finish high school.
Were not livin in stables any more. They got us now in long stone buildins with wood cots in them. I suppose somebody back at headquarters heard of soft pine an thought it would be a good thing for makin beds. I feel as full of bones as an old herrin.
We didnt have to pull the guns over after all. They tied them on behind trucks. I was makin up a nice bed for myself in the back of a truck when the Captin stuck his head in. He certinly believes in exercisin his neck. As soon as he saw I was comfortable he says "Smith, you ride on the end caisson an watch the brake." There was no use tellin him Id seen the darn thing every day for two weeks. He thinks he knows everything.
Of course youve never ridden on a caisson tied behind a truck. You never went hitchin with a bob sled behind an express train in the middle of summer nether. It was just luck that the old thing happened to be under me every time I came down. Some times it would go crazy an run from one side of the road to the other like it was lookin for a chance to pass the truck. I dont know what would have happened if the rope hadnt busted. That caisson must have thought it was a tank. It turned right off the road, ran over a little ditch an tried to clime a tree. It didnt have the build tho an quit.
The next thing I remember the Captin was sayin "Smith, what are you tryin to do with that caisson, smash it?" Just as if Id swiped the darn thing to go for a joy ride.
Well, Mable, your letter came at
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