Its a funny thing about the fello in the next bed. I came in two days after he did. Four days after he got here he came down with newmonya. I got it two days later. He died last night. But of course that dont necesarily mean nothin. Cheerful an bright to the last gasp. Thats me all over, Mable. Of course I dont want you to worry cause that would make me worry an theres no tellin what that would bring on. Well, Mable, I got a big surprise for you. I guess itll take a load offen your mind. You know all that stuff we been readin in the war stories about hospittles an the like. It all goes the same. "The next thing the fello knew he was lyin between snowy white sheets an a butiful vizun was bendin over him. She had vilet eyes an was full of tears like shed been cryin or something. An she smooths out his pillo an says 'Your better now.'" That smoothin out the pillo always seems to cure em. Well, Mable, Im sorry to say thats all bunk--every word of it. When I first heard they were goin to send me to a hospittle behind the lines I didnt care a bit. I wanted to have a look at a vilet eyed nurse. Accordin to the books they usuly turn out to be Dutcheses or somebody. I was plannin to look up in her eyes an say "This must be heven. Do you happen to have any lemonade?" Or something mushy like that. Then shed cry some more an like as not put a stick in the lemonade. [Illustration: "'DO YOU HAPPEN TO HAVE ANY LEMONADE?'"] Of course I wouldnt have married her or nothin. In the first place all the churches over here is knocked down an besides I got other plans if I ever get a chance between wars. The thing started off all wrong by my not bein unconshus when they brought me in. I didnt even ride in on a stretcher. I was a sittin case. They walk. Before I could get into the place at all I had to report to a sargent. He ast me so many questions I thought I must have struck some recruitin stashun an might be enlistin agen. I pretty near had heart failure for a minit. The sargent told me report to Ward 19. You never go anywhere in the army. You report. Theyd have a fello in his coffin report to his grave if they could. When they built Ward 19 they took all the joy out of it by makin it look like a barracks. Insted of a vilet eyed nurse there was a bleary eyed Captin sittin in a little room in front. He didnt look as if hed been to bed since the war started. I says "Sir, Private Smith reports to be sick in Ward 19." Nobody cried or looked at me with tears in there eyes. The Captin just says "What the this an that is the matter with those fellos up there do they think this is the only hospittle in France? Lets see your card." He called an orderly who showed me an empty bed where I was to be sick. Then he says "If you want anything to eat you better get your close off." Just like a fello couldnt eat right with his close on. An he says "You dont have to set your dirty shoes on the blankets nether."