The Captin said wed have to stay in this town a week or two on account
of the school were goin to bein full. The Bilitin oficer came down
ahead as usual. This time he only had two days. After seein what he
could do in a month we didnt expect much. We got it. Ten of us are
roomin in a hay barn. The only good thing about it is that when your
in bed the Top sargent cant tell wether your there or not without
takin out all the hay.
As soon as we got here I noticed something awful strong an it wasnt no
geranium bed ether. Were getting used to it now. You can tell how rich
a Frenchman is by the size of his manure pile. There so proud of them
they set them right outside there windos sos they can sit an watch
them an never forget them. The bigger the pile the bigger man you are
in your home town. All I can say is Im glad the people we live with is
poor. Id hate to be bileted with the Mayor.
I got to quit now. The sensor cuts out most of this anyway. They say
he tears off half of every letter to lighten the mails.
au reservoir as the French say
_Bill_
_Dere Mable:_
Id have rote you sooner only the sensor wont let me tell where I am an
I couldnt think of nothin else to say. This is the third letter Ive
rote since we landed. Im a little worried about the other two cause
the Captin said we couldnt menshun the names of no places. So I just
addressed them to Mable Gimp, nothin else.
In case you dont receive letters like that I wish youd let me know.
Then I wont be expectin any answer. Ritin letters from here is like
talkin to a fello over the fone that aint there.
Im having a little trouble with the languige. Its tricky. A lot of
these French words is the same as ours only they dont mean the same
thing. Like "Pan" an "We" an "Mercy" an "Toot sweet." As soon as I
find what the words stand for Ill be all right.
Some of the fellos dont seem to get onto the idear of this thing at
all. They think if they talk like they had an egg in there mouth an
put in lots of zs its French. Take Joe Loomis for instance. He talks
like a German thats lived with the French Canadians for a while. Hell
go into a lunch room an say "Geeve me ze beef stak rar, mit ze
on-yon." Then he gets sore when they put the wine list in front of
him.
It aint the wine list that makes him sore of course. He cant get over
the American custom tho of eatin with his meals.
The first three days we was here we didnt have no guns nor horses or
nothin. I thought perhaps the Captin would give us a chance to get
over that rest camp, but he seems to have an idear tho that just so
many of us has got to be killed in the war an the quicker he gets it
over with the better. So every day he walks us about ten killen
meters with the sun hot enuff to boil eggs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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