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Part 6

Dere Mable: Love Letters of a Rookie · Edward Streeter — chapter 6 of 9 · ~1,428 words · public domain

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He said a company was built up somethin like a man. There was the brain, which was the officers, an then some was the muscle an some was the bone. He said I seemed to be pretty well fitted for my part by nature so he wouldnt change me. Ive always been strong ever since I was a kid, Mable.

Ive rote a pome. I sent it to the Divisun paper. They wouldnt print it cause they said it was so real that it might depres the men. I guess they was right cause I read it to the fellos in the tent an it seemed to depres them awful. Im ritin it to you. Its about the war. Youll probably notice that yourself if you read it careful. Here it is.

Here the thunder of the guns Smashin down the German Huns An the sticky pools of gory blood Soakin up the oozie sod The rushin, roarin, shreekin boom Of bullets crashin thru the gloom

Listen to those grate bums bust On the quiverin Hunnish crust Listen to the shreekin, moanin Swearin, yellin, gruntin, groanin That comes to us across the trenches All mixed up with grusome stenches

III

Biff, an from there hellish lare The shreeks of Germans rent the air. Bloody lims lie on the ground. Bits of Huns go flyin round. Bang! And through the cannons roar Is plainly herd the splashin gore.

But this cannot go on for long, Cause Uncle Sam is comin strong. An when we charge the German line We'll chuck the dam thing in the Rine. An blood an slauter, rape an gore In Bel Le France will rain no more.

Aint that terrible, Mable? I read it to one fello an he said it made him absolutely sick. He said he didn't see how I could rite it without gettin sick myself. Just between me an you Mable I did come pretty near being once or twice when I was ritin it.

Most of all thats confidential but I dont care if you read it to some of your friends just to give em a good idea of what war is. Some of the things aint very nice of course. If your ritin big stuff though you got to put in everything that comes into your head, or else you lose the punch. I think the ends the best. A lot of fellos has said that. We ought to have more of that. It gets the slackers.

The Rine is a German river where they make wine near Berlin, Mable.

You keep menshuning a fello named Broggins in your letters. Now I aint got a spark of jelusy in my nature. Big. Thats me all over, Mable. But I warn you frankly. If I ever catch one of those ailin enemies windin up your victrola Ill kick him out of the house. Thats only fair. It isn't that I care a snap. Theres plenty of girls waitin for me. Its just the principul of the thing.

Dont think for a minit that I care. I just menshun it cause I couldnt think of nothin else to say.

Yours till you here otherwise, Bill.

Pom de mon oie:

You say that like oie yoy in Yiddish. It means apple of my eye. I never saw an apple in nobodys eye, Mable, but I guess thats some French custom.

Great news, Mable. A fello whats got a friend in the audience department in Washington just told me the wars goin to end about the 15th of Feb. Dont say nothin to nobody about it. It might look as if I was gettin mixed up in politiks. I put in for a furlo on the 5th tho. Then I wont have to come back, eh Mable? Ill bet your glad. Its great to think of gettin into a place where you cant see through the walls and there aint three inches of mud on the floor. An think of not havin to tie the doors together when you come in or crawl underneath em on your hans and nees and not havin to put everything you own in the world under the bed. But I guess you dont care as much about these things as I will.

This would be a good trainin camp for artik explorers. I bet the fello that picks out the camps ether owns a cold storage plant in civil life or else they do it by mail order. It got so cold the other night the silver in the thermometer disappeared. It aint been seen since.

We got a comical guy in the tent. Bill Huggins. Me an hims a pair. Keep everybody laffin all the time. Bill likes things hot about as well as me. Every nite he fills the Sibly stove so full of wood that he has to hammer the last piece in. It gets so hot that it jumps up and down like a mad monkey. Thats the way Siblys do when they get awful hot. Were not bothered by that much though.

We got another guy thats a fresh air feend. His name is Angus MacKenzie. Hes Scotch. Hes so close himself that he has to have lots of air or hed smother. Every nite he pulls up the side of the tent by his bed. No one likes fresh air in its place better than me, Mable, but when its as fresh as this air is its place is outside.

I wake up in the nite rolled into a ball like a porkypine. Theys things in the middle of my back like his stickers. If I dont move I get cramps. If I do, I freeze. All around the place where Im lyin is as warm as a park bench in winter. Sometimes I forget and push my feet down. That's awful.

One night I thought I heard the horn and stuck my head out of the blankets. It was Angus with his head and one arm outside snorin. Can you beat that. I bet he swims in the ice all winter home and has his pictur in the Sunday paper. I froze my ear before I could get my head back. Thats the kind of a fello he is.

Its awful cold in the mornin. They blow three calls. The first is just for the slow guys. I can make it nice from the march if I dont take too many close off. Thats no temtashun. One guy jumps up just before assembly and makes a lot of fuss like hes gettin dressed. He dont fool nobody. The only thing he takes off at nite is his hat. Some says that falls off when he gets into bed.

Angus gets up every mornin in his BVDs. I think his skin is furlined. You can hear him smashin the ice in the pale with a hair brush outside. Then you can tell hes washin by the noise he makes like a busted steam pipe. Then he comes smashin into the tent leavin the door open and wipes the ice off en his face with somebody elses towel an says gosh thats great. I hate that kind of a fello.

Bill Huggins cleaned the stove with his towel last week sos everything would be neet for inspecshun. Angus got hold of it in the dark next mornin. Gee, youd haft laft, Mable.

I got the little tin mirror you sent, Mable. Its unbreakable all right. Bill Huggins got so mad at it he tried to break it and couldnt. The first time I looked in it I got an awful start. I thought I was starvin. I looked like one of them picturs of hungry Indiens that the mishunaries show you just before they pass the plate. Bill Huggins swiped it later and says why didnt somebody tell him he was gettin so fat cause he couldnt go home on a furlo like that. He didnt eat nothin for three meals and then he looked at hisseif with the mirror turned the other way. Its like one of those Coney Island places where a fello can go in and laff at hisself for a dime. Next time send me one that will break.

I got to quit now and buy a couple of pies before I go to bed. I dont sleep good less I have a little somethin on my stummick. Dont say nothin about what I told you in the beginnin.

Until the 15th Feb. then.

Yours faithfully, Bill.

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