The Uncensored Letters of a Canteen GirlMorse, Katharine Duncan
History
The Uncensored Letters of a Canteen Girl
Morse, Katharine Duncan
World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives
The Major in command of the new arrivals proves to be an old and none
too amicable acquaintance of our Major’s, their mutual esteem having
been obscured by a law-suit some time in the past which resulted in our
Major’s being forced to part with a considerable sum of money. To make
himself more welcome the new Major has introduced innovations. Up till
now, in accordance with our Major’s theories, we have been a strictly
business community, our energies concentrated chiefly upon what the boys
call P. and S.—pick and shovel. But now with the coming of the new
detachment we have blossomed out with all sorts of military frills.
Armed sentinels marching their beats in a military manner fairly
encumber the camp. One is halted and challenged a half-dozen times on
one’s way home from the canteen at ten o’clock in the evening. I am
startled out of my dreams in the middle of the night by shouts of,
“Corporal of the Guard, Post Number Four!” under my very window. And the
best part of it is that these “Long Boys,” never having had so much as
the A-B-C of military training, make the drollest imitations of real
soldiers that ever were. The atmosphere at Headquarters has of late, I
gather, been slightly tinged with electricity. But the boys belonging to
the older organizations in camp have been enjoying themselves to an
unholy degree “stuffing” the new arrivals with ghastly tales of
air-raids, gas bombs, and Serial machine-gun barrages.
As in all huts, we have a big map of France tacked to the wall where the
boys can have easy access to it. After one of these maps has been up a
short while, it is always a simple matter when glancing at it, to locate
one’s self—one has only to look for a dirty spot; a little later,
countless more grimy fingers having in the meantime been applied, one
looks for the hole. Yesterday one of our new friends came to me and
asked:
“Please, Ma’am, could you tell me where that there place, ‘No Man’s
Land’ that they talk about in the papers is? I’ve been a-lookin’ an’
a-lookin’ an’ I can’t find it on the map nowhere.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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