The 3rd Battalion has lost the service of Mr. Kelly of the “Y.” When I first knew Mr. Kelly of the “Y” he was Corporal Kelly of Company I, 69th Regiment, at McAllen, Texas, and was sometimes known, Irish fashion, as “Kelly the Lepper,” as he was a famous runner. His eyes were not as good as his legs, so he was turned down for reenlistment. Being determined to have a part in the war he got the “Y” to send him over as an athletic instructor and finally worked his way up to our regiment and was attached to the 3rd Battalion which includes his own company. The assignment was more to the advantage of the 3rd Battalion than of the Y. M. C. A. for Kelly gave away gratis everything he could wheedle, bully, or steal from the “Y” depot officials. When we reached the Rhine, things were too quiet for Kelly and he started off to visit his native town in Ireland. If I ever hear that somebody has gotten stores from the police barracks to equip the Sein Feiners, I shall know that Kelly the Lepper is on the job. My own life is an altogether pleasant one. I have for my office a well furnished parlor on the ground floor of the Bürgermeister’s house where I spend my mornings with Bill Halligan, mainly at the task of writing letters to soldiers who want to get back and to folks at home who ask news of their dear ones, living or dead. In the afternoons I float lazily around amongst the companies, just chatting and gossiping, and getting in a good deal of my work in my own way, sort of incidentally and on the side; or I drop in at headquarters and bother Captain Dick Allen and Jansen and Ed Farrell of the Personnel Department for correct data for my diary, or Ted Ranscht and Clarke for maps. Or I look in on the juvenile pro-consuls Springer and Allen to smile at the air of easy mastery with which they boss the German civilians into observing American Military Commands. My nights I spend at the building of the “Y” or K. of C. amongst the men, or at home, receiving numerous guests with a world of topics to discuss. It is an agreeable kind of existence, with no urgent duties except correspondence, and with the satisfaction of performing a not unimportant service without any feeling of labor, but merely by kindly and friendly intercourse. My orderly, “Little Mac,” is having the time of his life. If I only had a car for him to drive me around in, as Tom Gowdy did in Texas, he would never want to go home to the Bronx. Father Hanley was made director of amusements and was kept busy providing entertainment five nights a week from our own and other Divisions for the two large halls conducted by the Y. M. C. A. and the K. of C., a task which he accomplished as he does everything—to complete satisfaction.