Dere Mable: Love Letters of a Rookie by Edward Streeter (philippa perry book TXT) 📕

do what I was told even though it was the middle of the night. He said, Fine, then I was probably prepared to scrub pans all day Sunday.

I dont care much for horses. I think they feels the same way about me. Most of them are so big that the only thing there good for is the view of the camp you get when you climb up. They are what they call hors de combat in French. My horse died the other day. I guess it wasnt much effort for him. If it had been he wouldnt have done it.

They got a book they call Drill Regulations Field and Light. Thats about as censible as it is all the way through. For instance they say that when the command for action is given one man jumps for the wheel and another springs for the trail an another leaps for the muzzle. I guess the fellow that rote the regulations thought we was a bunch of grass hoppers.

"I DONT LIKE ANY SARGEANT"

"I DONT CARE MUCH FOR HORSES, THEY FEELS THE SAME WAY ABOUT ME"

Well I got to quit now an rite a bunch of other girls. Thanks again for the box although it was so busted that it wasnt much good but that dont matter.

Yours till you here otherwise,
     Bill.



Dere Mable:

Todays Thanksgivin. Im thankful things aint no worse though Max Glucos what lives on the next cot says they couldnt be. Cheery an bright to the last. Thats me all over, Mable.

Every man gets ateen ounces of Turky on Thanksgivin. All to himself, Mable. The sargent says the commitee on Hays and Beans at Washington decides that. Mines inside. Im most to full for expreshun as the poets say. We had a great dinner. Soup an turky, dressin, crambury sause an pie an smashed potatoes. All in one plate. I wish you could have heard how the fellos enjoyed it Mable. I know now why they call the turkys gobblers.

Thanksgivin is a holiday. All a fello has to do on a holiday in the artillery is to feed the horses an give em a drink an smooth em out an take em for a walk an then feed em an smooth em out an feed em an give em a drink. It makes a fello feel like givin back a dollar out of his pay at the end of the month.

"MAX GLUCOS WHAT LIVES ON THE NEXT COT"

"SMITH ARE YOU LAFFIN AT ME?"

The horses has the softest of anyone, Mable. They dont even have to get up for breakfast in the morning. We bring it to em in a little bag filled with cereul. You tie this on there face. I guess they aint never been fed before the war broke out. When they see you comin they start jumpin round like starvin sailurs. I dont guess they like cereul. I wouldnt ether three times a day. I thought theyd give em somethin different Thanksgivin but not a chance. There always hopin it ull be somethin else I guess. When they see the same old thing they get sore and try to step on your feet.

The sargents stand way behind an say "Go on in. They wont hurt you." An then when they land on your corn they say "Thats to bad. You didnt do it right." I dont like sargents any better than horses.

An I dont kno as Im going to like the Captin much better ether. The other day I got laffin while I was standin in line. Just laffin to myself. Not disturbin nobody. The Captin turns round an says "Smith are you laffin at me?" I says no sir an he says "Well what else was there to laff at?" Thats the kind of a fello he is. I didn't sass him back or nothin, Mable. Just looked at him an made him feel cheap. I saw him again in the afternoon. Course I didnt salute. He says "What do you mean by not salutin?" I told him I thought he was mad. Im glad Im not his wife, Mable. You never know how to take a fello like that.

If I hadnt knowed they needed me Id have given him two weaks notise on the spot. Duty before pleasure though. Thats me all over.

We took the guns out to drill the other day. The Captin was talkin about indirect firin. Thats the way he is. Nothin straight forward about him. I asked the sargent about it. He said indirect firin was where you shot at one thing an aimed at another. I hate to butt in Mable but it didnt seem right. I says I seen the Indien girl in the circus shoot the spots out of a card over her shoulder but wouldnt it be more censible to cut out the trick stuff till we was more used to the thing. You cant argue with sargents, though.

Day after tomorrows inspecshun. They do it every Saturday. Thats another thing Im thankful for. Theres only one Saturday a weak. We pull everything out an pile it on our cots. Then the Captin an the Sargent comes in. Every time its the same. He says "Thats very dirty Smith wheres your other shirt." An I say "I aint got none, sir." An he says "Sargent make a note of that." An then the Sargent rites somethin in a little book. Next time just the same. The Captin says wheres my shirt an the sargent makes a note. I guess theres somethin in the drill regulations what makes him say that cause I aint got no other shirt yet.

Well Mable Im gettin hungry again now. Guess Ill have to stop an buy a couple of pies. We dont get nothin to eat for an hour yet.

yours till the ice cracks in the pale,
     Bill.

P.S. I had to borrow a stamp for this letter. I went down town yesterday an spent my last sent on a money belt. Its a good one though.

Dere Mable:

Rainin today. No drill so Im going to rite you. If I dont get no exercise I go all to pieces. Im back from the artillery into the infantry. Captin an I had different ideas about runnin things. One of us had to leave. Hed been there longest. I left. Hot headed. Thats me all over.

Were doin baynut drill now. I cant say nothin about it. Its not for wimens ears. We have one place where we hit the Hun in the nose an rip all the decorashuns offen his uniform all in one stroke. Then theres another where you give him a shave an a round hair cut an end by knocking his hat over his eyes. Then the wiperzup come over with a lot of bums an do the dirty work. I an the rest of the fellos go ahead an take another trench. I havnt been able to find out yet where we take it.

Its all worked out cientifick. The fello who doped it out had some bean. The principul of the thing is to get the other fello an not let him get you. If the allys bad doped out some skeme like this the war would have been over now. There wouldnt have been no Huns left. It takes us Uncle Sammies. Eh Mable?

"ONE DAY IT'S OUR TEETH"

There gettin up a thrift campain now Mable. First they sell us enough Liberty Bonds to buy a brand new army an let us go home. Then they cram a lot of insurence at you what wont never do you no good after your killed. Then I guess they found that someone still had a couple of dollars left so they made us send that back home. Now there gettin up a thrift campain Mable. They dont want us to spend our money foolish sos we can buy the Singer Buildin or a Ford or somethin like that when the war is over.

Some one say that we was the highest payed army in the world. Besides all this money we get our bed and board. I guess they dont know that in the army bed and board mean the same thing. Eh, Mable? Still the same old Bill.

There always inspectin us. I feel like a piece of prize beef. They never inspect a man all the way through. I guess the inspecters get payed by the day durin the duration of the inspecshun. One day its our teeth an another our heart an another our lungs. The other day we was all lined up in the company street and the Sargent says "Inspecshun arms." I lays down my gun an rolls up my sleves. Just to show you how tecknickle the army is he didnt want to see my arms at all but my gun. Hows a fello goin to tell, Mable?

I went up for thirds at breakfast the other morning as usual an the cook said "You seem to like coffee." Right away without stoppin to think or nothin I says back "Yes thats the reason Im willin to drink so much hot water to get some." Eh, Mable?

Went to a dance the other night and met some swell girls. I made em all laff. I says I guess I got the instinks of a soldier all right. The minit I smell powder Im right on my tows.

I havent been very well lately. I guess Ill cut out eatin at meals. It spoils my appitite for the rest of the day. I kno youll be glad to kno my feet aint hurtin so much. Remember me to the hired girl and your mother.

Yours through the winter,
     Bill.

"REMEMBER ME TO YOUR MOTHER"

Chair Mable:

Thats French. I didnt expect you to kno what it meant though. The Y.M.C.A. are learnin me French now. I only had three lessons so far but I can talk it pretty good. You know how quick I am at pickin up any kind of trick stuff like that. The only difference between French and English is that there pretty near alike but the French dont pronounce there words right.

When I use French words Ill underline them. Thatll give you some idea of the languige.

When we get voila as the French say for over there itll come handy to be able to sit down and have a dosy dos with them poilus. (That means chew the rag in English.) A poilus Mable is a French peasant girl an they say that they are very belle. (Now don't mispronounce things an get sore till you know. You pronounce that like the bell in push button. It means good lookers.) There crazy about us fellos. They call us Sammies. They named one of there rivers for us. You have heard of the battle of the Samme. But I dont suppose you have.

They have been learnin us a lot about gas at attacks lately. These are not the kind your father has. These are more like the open places in the street on 6th avenoo. Only in the army when anything like this happens they give you a gas mask. A gas mask is like a cracked ice bag with windos in it. An in the front they got a cigaret holder. I always heard how the French was cigaret feends. I guess it got so bad they put in the holders sos they could smoke during a gas attack.

Im goin to put on my mask an have my pictur took en cabinet. Thats nothin to do with furniture, Mable. Its the French for what its goin to look like when its done.

The gas fello said the other day that gas was perfectly safe cause you could always tell when it was comin. You could hear it escape or see it or smell it. The only trouble was, he said, that when the gas started the machine guns made so much noise you couldnt hear it an it always came at night sos you couldnt see it and when you smelled it it was most to late to bother anyhow. I been thinkin that over. Seems to me theres a joker in the contract somewhere. Ask your father to read it over an see if it sound droit (thats French for right) to him. Better still. Ask Higgins the grocer to give it the once over. Hes got a grand tete as the French say when they mean brains.

"NOT THE KIND YOUR FATHER HAS"

"I WEAR THEM EVERY NIGHT OVER MY UNIFORM"

Its getting frappayer and frappayer down here (meaning colder and colder). It got so cold that I put