There are two kids that drop into the office three times a day for their cigarette allowance. The oldest is sixteen and the youngest thirteen. I made the mistake of giving them one the first day and they now take it as a matter of course. Guess I’ll start them to work sweeping out the place on their next visit. That may break them of the habit—like offering a tramp work when he asks for food. I don’t know if it will work, however, as there are a couple who hang out at our kitchen. They lug all the water, and do all the odd jobs. They are a great help to the K. P.’s—in fact our kitchen police, since these kids came along, live the life of Riley and as for the kids, they eat to their hearts’ content. [Illustration: EVEN THE KIDS DONT GET ME! MY FRENCH MUST BE STRICKLY FOR BAR ROOMS ONLY !! ?!] Saw Les. Herrick yesterday. He’s looking fine. We went over the feed we had last Christmas night—it was a wonder. One of the boys reminded me that last Christmas eve we were pulled out of bed eleven times on account of air raids. The Boche did their best to put one over on us, but we fooled them. I’ll never forget those raids. First you would hear the guns barking in the distance. Then the bark would get nearer and nearer. Next the twins would let out their war cry. Finally the Lieut. would stick his head in the door with the words, “I want every man to go to the abri at once.” Then would be the hunt in the dark for shoes, tin derby, gas mask, and coat. Then a few bombs. Then the dash for the abri. Then the standing around wondering how long it was going to last. Then another bark from the twins. Then a few more bombs. Then the dying away buzz of the planes. Then the grand return, only to do it all over again a few minutes later. It was a great life. The Field Service sent a wallet to us for a Christmas present. On the inside there is printed in gold letters “Dernier Noël de la Guerre en France.” Translated literally that means, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” Understand that they were also going to give us some kind of a medal but they weren’t finished in time and that later on they will come through. [Illustration: GO’WAN DER MR. HOS! DIS COON AINT A G’WAN TO ABDICATE AN DER AINT G’WAN TO BE NONE OF DEM ARMISTICE!] So another Christmas came and another Christmas passed in France. It was a pretty good Christmas at that, but if it’s all the same to all those concerned I’ll take my next at home. [Illustration: NOW, IN THE FIRST PLACE—IF WE _DO_ GO WITH THE ARMY OF OCCUPATION WE WONT GET HOME FOR—SAY—EIGHT MONTHS— YES! YOU CRAPE HANGER. AND IN THE _SECOND PLACE_ IF YOU DONT DRY UP YOUR GOING TO GET _CROWNED_!] _January 6, 1919._ DEAR MOTHER: