Found two letters here. One from Ben informed me that they finally threw him out of the infirmary and put him in a Casuals company. I’d have to move fast now or he’d be getting sent up to some replacement outfit, and once a man got up in that neck of the woods it took a lot of officerial influence to get him out. I also had a letter from Jay-Jay, which gave me something to think about. He said he was asked by Aunt Elinor to look me up and see how I was getting along. Said he hadn’t heard from my sister for months—“Do you know where she is now?” Wanted me to let him know if I ever got near Paris or Tours or Chaumont, because he was still in the entertainment business and those were the centers of activity. Said he’d be glad to see me any time I could get away. Let us laugh! Wasn’t he condescending! A sweet chance he had of getting a letter from this soldier! Why, he’d know my writing at once. I suppose he had written to me at home and wondered why I hadn’t answered. But Aunt Elinor hadn’t said anything about a letter from him. Well, anyway, he needn’t think he could make me put my foot in it: I would write a letter to him and send it to Aunt Elinor to remail. That’d take over a month but it would throw him off the track. I’d make the letter very general and if the censor took the trouble to look at it he’d think it was a letter I’d received from a girl in the States. That for you, Mr. Wise Guy! I heard we were going back to Paris soon. I couldn’t decide whether to be glad or sorry, for the Lord only knew what’d happen there. I wanted like the devil to see the Captain, but I’d have hated like hell to meet Jay-Jay. Wished I knew where Leon was. He was either here or on his way over—wherever he was I didn’t want to be. No one town could be large enough for both of us: not in this man’s army. —11— Wagoner Getterlow ceased to be a wagoner. The General finally decided that our chauffeur couldn’t stand too much freedom. Of course, as soon as I knew a change had been decided upon and that a new driver had to be got at once, I suggested Ben. Naturally, Chilblaines had to be present at the moment to pipe up, “Has he ever done any driving over here?” “Oh, yes!” I lied glibly. “Driven a lot, but now he’s just out of the infirmary and is with a Casuals company at Le Mans. He knows all about cars.” “I don’t think he is a fit—” Chilblaines began. But the General interrupted to say, “If you are sure he will prove satisfactory, Sergeant, make out a request for his transfer and speak to the personnel officer about it at once. We mustn’t be bothered too much with a matter of this kind.” So I made out a request and spoke to the officer who had charge of that line of stuff—I mean, of personnel and transfers. Private Benjamin Garlotz would burst in any time now.