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<pre>

Project Gutenberg's Love Letters of a Rookie to Julie, by Barney Stone

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org


Title: Love Letters of a Rookie to Julie

Author: Barney Stone

Release Date: April 4, 2005 [EBook #15544]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE LETTERS OF A ROOKIE TO JULIE ***




Produced by Michelle Croyle, William Flis, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.






</pre>

    <h1>LOVE LETTERS</h1>

    <h3>OF A</h3>

    <h1>ROOKIE</h1>

    <h2>To JULIE</h2>

    <h2><i>by</i> BARNEY STONE</h2>

    <h4>HEADQUARTERS CO., 119 F.A.<br />
    A.E.F.</h4>

    <h4>ILLUSTRATIONS <i>by</i> GORDON ROSS</h4>

    <center>
        Copyright 1919 by
    </center>

    <center>
        THE SHERWOOD CO.
    </center>

    <center>
        All rights reserved
    </center>

    <p>To&mdash;</p>

    <p>R.E.S., whose Suggestions made these pages possible and
    palatable.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/5.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/5.png"
             alt="ME ON GUARD" /></a>
    </div>

    <h2><i>Dere Julie</i></h2>

    <center>
        IN CAMP (Somewhere between the Kitchen and the lunch
        counter).
    </center>

    <p>Dere Julie,</p>

    <p>Well, hear I am in camp after being "rough-housed on the
    rattlers" for 1 day and 2 nites; I was so shook-up that I'm
    like a loose button on an overcoat&mdash;no wheres in
    particular.</p>

    <p>The most vivid impression in my bean is our interview in the
    hall-way of your flat the night (or was it morning) when we bid
    each other a fond fare-thee-well. Never will I forget them
    tender and loving words you spoke, also will I remember them
    words spoke, by the guy on the second floor, NOT so tender; how
    was we to know you were backed up against the push button of
    his bell? When a boob like him lives in a flat in wartime he
    ought to be made to muffle his bell after 10 p.m. I'm gonna
    rite the Pres. about this.</p>

    <p>Our going away was some deeparture; I'll bet a small piece
    of change that every fair young damsel on the block was
    present&mdash;and some damsels not so young and fair. The old
    maid who grabbed onto me had seen about 40 summers and heavings
    knows how many winters; she was so crosseyed that if she had
    pulled a weep the tears would have run down the back of her
    neck. It was her last chance to grab a man and believe you me,
    she made use of the opportunity.</p>

    <p>Well angel face, here I am a buck private fur fair, but
    believe you me, I'd rather be a private with a chicken on my
    knee than a kernel with an eagle on my shoulder; and I'd rather
    have any shoulder on a bar than a bar on my shoulder any
    time.</p>

    <center>
        Yours loving dough-boy,
    </center>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <p>P.S.&mdash;I don't know why they call us dough boys, for
    thirty per aint much "dough," is it angel face?</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/10.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/10.png"
             alt="'How wuz I to know you wuz agin the push button of his bell.'" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <center>
        Same Camp.
    </center>

    <center>
        (Not on the map.)
    </center>

    <p>Dere Julie,</p>

    <p>Many thanks, my cherrie (that's French), fur the lovely cake
    you sent me, but believe you me deary, I didn't get a smell of
    it. I got the box about 6 p.m. opened it at 6;01, and at 6;01½
    our band played the Star Spangled Banner and all us fellows had
    to stand at attention; by the time they had finished, our
    company mascot, a billy goat camouflaged with a bunch of
    whiskers and an unshaven glue factory breath gobbled the whole
    blooming business.</p>

    <p>Speaken of eats, the Gov't certainly comes across with the
    gorging. That is, there's plenty of it, but the "maynew" is not
    as long as a search warrant. But O, my kingdom for a plate of
    ham and eggs. Ham is scarcer here than at a Jew wedding feast,
    and as for eggs, there ain't no sich thing in the world. I
    think that some of Bill of Berlin's ginks in this country have
    been hanging up birth control "info" in every hen house in the
    U.S. least ways sumpin has happened to corner the market.</p>

    <p>Well, deary, far be it from me to say how long this war will
    last. I got a scheme to end it, so I'm gonna spill it to you,
    and here she is; Lock Theo. Roosevelt and his three sons in the
    same room with William the Twicer and his seven sons; whichever
    cums out at the end of an hour wins the war. You bet when this
    cums off I'll hold a ticket on Theo. Well honey bunch, I had a
    lovely dream last eve, I dreamed that you and me was holding
    down a park bench, with not a cop in sight. I had just taken
    you in my arms, and touched your ruby lips, when I suddently
    awoke to find the captain's pet sausage hound was licking my
    nose. Some day there's gonna be a first class dog funeral in
    this camp and that lop-eared canine is gonna ride in the head
    wagon.</p>

    <p>It's so cold down here that if a guy wanted a hair cut all
    he'd haft to do would be to wet his hair, leave his hat off,
    and break off the icicles, More Anon.</p>

    <center>
        Yours until Lillian Rustle retires,
    </center>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <p>P.S.&mdash;I'd rather be a lamp post on Broadway, than a ten
    story building down here.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/14.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/14.png"
             alt="'The Captin's pet sausage hound wuz lickin' my face.'" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <center>
        In Camp C, W and H.
    </center>

    <center>
        (Meaning cold, wet and hungry.)
    </center>

    <p>Dere Star of My Heart,</p>

    <p>Big day for us; we got our new soldier scenery&mdash;a
    complete set from kicks to skypieces. Did you ever see a
    feather bed with a string tied around the middle, or a bale of
    hay with the middle hoop busted? That's what my appollonnaris
    form looks like now draped in the togs handed me by the "land
    of the free and the home of the brave." The pants must have
    been cut out with a circular saw for a bow-legged simp. I have
    to use a compass to find out which direction I'm going, and
    believe you me when I caught sight of "yours truly" in a mirror
    I looked like the end of a load of wood and just as
    handsome.</p>

    <p>These clothes remind me of the tailors sign on eur block,
    "A. LEVINSKY, FIRST CLASS TAILOR. Wear a suit of our clothes
    and you will have a fit." I am liable to have several fits
    before I get acquainted with 'em. If I could rent out the extra
    room, I could buy "makins" for a month. They call 'em fatigue
    uniforms, and believe you me they called 'em right&mdash;one
    look at 'em makes you tired. The only things that fit are the
    hat cord and collar ornaments.</p>

    <p>You know how it is with me Julie nothing ready made fits me
    but a hanky.</p>

    <p>After studying the directions, I managed to make 'em hang on
    me. I was so interested in 'em that on my way over to the
    barracks, I failed to salute a major who passed; he grabbed me
    amid ships with one hand and pointed to his shoulder with the
    other; my mind bein on clothing scenery instead of salutin, I
    piped up, You got no kick comin, look what they handed me.</p>

    <p>Me and Skinny Shaner got on the outside of about a ½ dozen
    pickled pigs feet last night at the canteen and finished off
    with about a quart of ice-cream apeace. Along about a hour or
    so afterwards during the mixing process, I guess the pigs feet
    got cold in the ice cream and commenced to kick. Skinny was
    doubled up so he looked like a horse shoe bend on a scenic
    railroad. I suggested that we each take a dose of Allen's Foot
    Ease, as I heard that helped sore feet, but Skinny balked; he
    always was stubborn like that. Finally, we sent in a three
    alarm for a doc.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/18.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/18.png"
             alt="'You got no kick comin'&mdash;look what they handed me.'" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <p>He asked us what we'd been eatin; we couldn't give up
    anything, otherwise we'd have "give up" the pigs-feet, so the
    Doc. Allowed we had the appende-come-and-get-me. That's about
    as near to the truth as the Docs usually gets. If you're laying
    at death's door they generally pull you thru. The Doc said
    "operation at once" but havin read Irve Cobb's book about
    Operations I passed the buck to Skinny and we both got better
    simultaneously to once. I don't jest "make" this appendicitis
    but I have a suspicion that's its a disease that costs about
    $500.00 more than the stummick ache; anyhow its sumpin you have
    just before your Doc buys a new automobile. All the samee,
    we're off pigs feet fur life.</p>

    <center>
        Yrs in Health
    </center>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <p>P.S.&mdash;I left my other shirt at the "chinks" to be
    laundered. Don't let him sell it for charges before I get
    back.</p>
    <hr />

    <p>Dere Julie,</p>

    <p>At last I am a officer; and it happened like this. To make
    my old lady feel good, and knowin she didn't know much of the
    "parley-voo" spoke in the army, I rote her that I had been made
    a Captain in the Latrines; this A.M. i gets a "billy-doo" from
    her asking me, now that I had got to be a high up officer, not
    to be too hard on the boys under me, and to always remember
    that I was once a buck private in the rear ranks. I hope the
    old lady don't think to look the word up in the dictionary, or
    she might, as Laura Blue Jeans Libby says "be rudely awakened."
    Eh What?</p>

    <p>An instructor today was wising us up on overseas service,
    and told us the best way to rough house cooties; he didn't show
    us any of the pets, but did show us the scratch proof dug-outs
    they had made on his frame. From the way he described 'em and
    their habits, I imagine they are the same species of "seam
    squirrels" that you get in a Coney Island bathin suit. The
    first time you go to Mrs. Woolworth's store please buy and send
    me a ½ dozen graters so I can rent 'em out to the boys to
    scratch on. That's me. In time of piece prepare for war.</p>

    <p>I see by the papers that Uncle Sam says the Kings must be
    thrown out. Believe you me, he must be some poker player to
    throw out 3 kings and make a hand win.</p>

    <p>Skinny Shaner got in dutch today at drill. We had been
    drillin for a hour or so, and the command was, Company forward
    march! Halt! This was kept up continuously fur about a hour,
    and all to wunce Skinny trowed down his gun and said he'd be
    d&mdash;&mdash; if he would be bossed by a guy like that, he
    changed his mind to d&mdash;&mdash; often. Skinny is always
    like that. Ever since he's been here, he's been braggin what a
    fine singer he is; said his voice was trained for Grand Opera.
    He sang for us last night, a song, entitled "God give us cheap
    ice, for Heaven's knows we have cheap skates." Believe you me,
    his voice was trained for Grand Rapids instead of Grand
    Opera.</p>

    <p>Yours until the William the Twicer gives that dinner in
    Paris,</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <p>P.S.&mdash;I hope Skinny keeps well. He will if he don't try
    to sing again tonite.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/24.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/24.png"
             alt="his voice wuz trained fer Grand Rapids instead of Grand Opera" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <p>Dere Julie,</p>

    <p>They took away our maiden names yesterday, and give us
    numbers, Skinny's is 31. Yesterday his old man arrived in camp
    to visit him. Stepping blithely up to the top sarge he pipes up
    "I am the father of thirty-one." "Well said the sarge, you
    ain't got much on me, I am the father of eighteen myself."</p>

    <p>My number is 475. Today they marched us off to listen to a
    hour sermon by a antiquated ol' bunch of spinnage, who at the
    end bawled out, No. 475. "Art thou weary, Art thou languid?" An
    now they give me 7 days in the guard house because I yelled out
    that I certainly was. How was I to know that the ol' billy goat
    was givin out the him to be sang.</p>

    <p>Im readin in the papers you sent me from home that Bill
    Ferguson has enlisted, which fact leads your "uncle Dudley" to
    say that the war certainly is nearin the end, for nobody ever
    knowed Bill to hold a job more than 30 days at the longest.</p>

    <p>We got our first settin up exercises today. Believe you me,
    they are more settin down than they are settin up. All the
    boobs have to lie on there backs, put there laigs in the air,
    and move 'em like he wuz ridin a bicycle. All to once Skinny
    Shaner stopped. The drill Sarge stepped over and deemanded to
    know why he quit. "Im coastin" pipes Skinny, "I always do a
    little coastin when I ride a wheel." Believe you me if Skinny
    ever tries to ride all of them wheels in his head at one and
    the same time, he have to do a considerable lot of coastin.
    With love and mushes,</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <p>P.S.&mdash;I hope this war lasts till I get over. I'll make
    that poll parrot of a clown quince learn to say "UNCLE" in jig
    time. He won't have as much chance as a tallow legged dog chase
    a cat thru H&mdash;&mdash;. Now that the Yanks have Come in fur
    fair, Kings, Queens and two spots is gonna be throwed in the
    discard.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/28.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/28.png"
             alt="'Coastin'" /></a>
    </div>

    <p>Dere Julie,</p>

    <p>The Doc says that me and Skinny will recover, but we'll
    never look the same. It wuz like this. Day behind yesterday we
    wuz out for bombin practice, each one havin quite some supply
    of them hell on the Wabash lookin things in our posesshun. Of
    course nothing wood do Skinny, but that he must have a smoke.
    All to once, as you read in the papers, their was a tree-mendus
    explosion and I went up what seamed to me about a thousand
    feet. On the way down, I met Skinny going up, he yelled out to
    me, "I'll bet you five bucks that I go higher than you did."
    Skinny is some sport.</p>

    <p>Some of our training officers has seen active service in the
    front line trenches. Yesterday was visiting day in camp; after
    drill, as pretty a "Jane" as I have seen in this neck of woods
    asks one of 'em did he croak a Fritz, while on the other side?
    "I sure did," sed he "with this mighty rite hand." Whereupon,
    this "bunch of peeches" grabs his hand and kisses it. Skinny
    'lowed as how <i>he</i> would have told her he bit him to deth.
    That's Skinny, he's strong for the "Janes." Don't peeve up
    Julie, a lot of 'em down here fall for me, but I let 'em lay;
    exceptin for a few I've saw, you have 'em all lashed to the
    mast howlin fur mercy.</p>

    <p>Seems to me like we don't do anything down here but walk.
    It's a wonder to me that all of us don't walk in our sleep. I
    was telling Skinny we should have joined the cavillry, but
    Skinny said no; He 'lowed as how if he ever had to retreat he
    didn't want to be bothered with no horse.</p>

    <center>
        Yours truly and affectionately,
    </center>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/32.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/32.png"
             alt="'I'll bet 5 bucks I go higher than you.'" /></a>
    </div>

    <p>Dere Julie:</p>

    <p>Many thanks for the pink silk piejamas, with the red ribbon
    ties. Skinny sez they are "a thing of beauty and a joy
    forever." It don't take much to make Skinny poetical. When the
    Sarge got a lamp at 'em he sed "they would move <i>anyone</i>
    to poetry, if he didn't "do the Dutch" first."</p>

    <p>I'm afraid the Pres. is not running this trainin biz rite.
    What's the use of wisin up this big bunch of guys, when one
    company of cooks could wipe out the Fritzies in twenty four
    hours, if they can get 'em to eat some of the stuff they wish
    onto us. We have seventeen kinds of meat everyday&mdash;hash.
    That's all rite. We can stand fur that, but when they put
    raisins in it on Sunday and call it puddin, good nite, its
    enough to make a feller bat 1000 in the booze league.</p>

    <p>Speakin of shufflin off reminds me that Skinny 'lows as how
    we ought to make our wills before we hit the briny trail. The
    only WILL I'm worried about Julie, is WILL I cum back? And
    that's no Bullsheveki, fur you know derie when one of them tin
    fish strikes a transport, yer jest as well let your voice fall.
    Say Julie, I'm not fur this country down here a-tall. It has
    ticks; chiggers and nats all open fur biz at one and the same
    time. You never had a tick on you did you Julie? Well a dog
    with two sets of flees isn't any busier than said tick. They
    ought to draft a lot of 'em into the engineers. They are the
    best lil' trench diggers on earth. They always selects a place
    between your shoulder blades where you can't reach 'em and dig
    in. The think-tank of a tick is not large; but unless they have
    been shootin hop into themselves, they can make a guy feel as
    small as a bar of soap after a hard days washin. Yours till the
    kaiser's mustash droops,</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <p>P.S. Skinny sez this means "poor simp" but lissen, derie,
    fer you it means pretty sweet.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/36.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/36.png"
             alt="'Them ticks is the best lil' trench diggers in the army.'" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <p class="author">Friday the thirteenth.</p>

    <p>Dere Julie:</p>

    <p>A bugler is jest as popular round this camp in the a.m. as a
    roman nose in Russia. If "yours truly" ever gets a large bunch
    of the mazuma I'm gonna hire a bugler to blow the revelee every
    morning at 6 under my window so I can tell him to go to
    H&mdash;&mdash;. Skinny sed a Jane he asked to marry him wunce
    told him to go to the same place; she didn't jest zactly tell
    in them words, but sed to go ask her paw. Now Skinny knowed her
    "old" man was dead, he also knowed what kind of a life he'd
    lead, so Skinny was wise to what she ment when she piped "Ask
    dad." If she'd told me that same I would have thought she was
    flashin a spiel for Sweet Caps. Skinny says that's repartee,
    but I think its RAP-artee. Speakin of Russia, I see by the
    papers that a new revolution has busted out there. That God
    forsaken country reminds me of a fly wheel on a
    automobeel&mdash;2000 revolutions per minute.</p>

    <p>I had a grate peece of luck this a.m. I had three portions
    of bacon for breakfast which same happed on account of my bein
    seated between a young Jewish feller on one side, and a
    Catholic feller on the other. It bein Friday&mdash;nuff sed.
    Don't ever try to tell me again that Friday the thirteenth is
    unlucky.</p>

    <p>If I was loose from the army, I could make a million dollars
    in the umbrella business; its stopped pouring now, but comin in
    bucket fulls, and we are looking fur orders from Washington any
    day to begin to build a ark.</p>

    <p>Last nite after taps me and Skinny wuz arguin about who wuz
    to blame for this war. Confidentially Julie, I think it was
    Theo. Roosevelt. Do you remember Julie, about ten years ago
    when Theo. was on a trip round the world, he called on Bill the
    Twicer and Bill got out his army and peeraded them in Theo.'s
    honor? and Theo. not wantin to be lackin in perliteness,
    slapped Bill on the back and sed, "Bill with an army like that
    you can lick the world," Member him sayin that Julie? Well he
    did, and Bill the Two-spot, was d&mdash;&mdash; fool enuff to
    fall fur Theo's bunk.</p>

    <p>Yours 'till the Klown Quince sings the Star Spangled
    Banner.</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/40.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/40.png"
             alt="'An' Bill The Twicer wuz fool enuff to fall fer Theo's bunk'" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <center>
        Camp Wadsworth.
    </center>

    <p>Dere Julie:&mdash;</p>

    <p>Well, ol' girl, you can see by the heading of this that we
    have gone south. The plentifullest things down here is
    "dinges", mules and mud, and you very seldom see one without
    the other. You know Julie "Birds of a fether gathers no moss";
    sumpin like that anyhow; you know Julie I was never much on
    problems. I see a big lazy dinge yesterday asleep against a
    corner of the barracks when the bugle blowed the mess call; he
    woke up in time to hear the last notes; stretching himself and
    scratching his bed, he said: "Dar she blows, dinner time for
    white folks, but just 12 o'clock for niggers."</p>

    <p>Well Julie, you can bet your Wrigleys and every hair on your
    bureau, that what Sherman said about war is right; its easy to
    get in an' hard to get out. Reminds me of the story my ol' man
    tells about when he lived on a farm (You know Julie dere, I
    told you my old man was raised on a farm in Brooklin,
    N.Y.U.S.A.). He stuck his bean into a yoke, to teach a yearling
    calf to work double, and the way that calf started to hot foot
    it to the other end of Long Island was some exhibition of
    speed. He could have give the Empire State express a ten mile
    start at Peekskill and beat it into Powkeepsy. He yanked my ol'
    man along so fast that his feet only struck the ground every
    other mile. If the calf had run around in a circle, my ol' man
    could have spit in his own face. His coat tail stuck out so
    straight behind you could have played a game of peaknuckle on
    it. Finally the o' man got hep that he wasn't gonna be able to
    break the calf before the calf broke my ol' man's neck so he
    yelled out, "here we come, dum our fool souls, somebody hed us
    off." So Julie, see if somebody bobs up who is able and willin
    to stop this little unpleasentness, let him go to it like a
    sick kitten to a hot rock.</p>

    <p>Member Julie that song we all usto sing comin home on the
    boat after a picnic at Staten Island of the Patrick Dooley East
    Side Outing and Chowder Club? You know Julie&mdash;The chorus
    ends with Beans! Beans! Beans! Say kid, that song would fit in
    this camp like a hungry tramp at a chicken dinner. Every farmer
    in the good ol' U.S.A. must have planted nothing but beans for
    the last two years. We have 'em boiled fer breakfast, baked fer
    dinner, and in the soup for supper. Every time the Chaplin (not
    Charlie) says grace, he always "Thanks the Lord for these
    tokens of his grace," and Skinny got forty-ate hours in the
    booby hatch fer askin me real loud like, so everybody could
    hear him to "please put some of them tokens on his plate."</p>

    <p>But all the same Julie I'm glad I'm here. Of course I miss
    you; as the poet sez "Your brite smile haunts me still." Never
    will I ferget what a beautiful picture you made the Sunday
    before I left when I was rowin you round the lake in Central
    Park. You was settin up in the bough of the boat trailing your
    lily white hand in the water, and looking up into my eyes you
    gurgled in a voiced choking with love, emotion and beer, you
    said, "Wouldn't it be heavenly derie, if we could go floting
    down life's stream in a boat like this forever and
    ever"&mdash;an' me paying 25c. an hour for the boat. Of course
    you didn't think of that, did you derie.</p>

    <p>Yours until Brooklyn wins another penant,</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/44.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/44.png"
             alt="'Dinner fer white folks, but jest 12 o'clock fer niggers&mdash;'" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <p>Dere Julie:</p>

    <p>On land again, thank God! Comin across we skidded several
    times and there were occasions when it looked like there wuzn't
    anything like dry land in the whole world, yet we finally
    landed on terra cotta, vice versi, or whatever Lattin fraze
    they use for solid ground.</p>

    <p>Believe you me, Julie, I luv a life on the ocean wave like a
    burlecue soubrette luvs an alarm clock; that is I like it a
    lot, but not a heluva lot. Fer four hours at a strech I leand
    over the side of the ship; I wuzn't interested in the ocean or
    the study of fishes, only I felt I had sumpin I must give up.
    Finally, after givin up everything, even standin for some of
    Skinny's jokes, I managed to recover sufficient to enjoy two
    meals before we got to the dock. Believe you me, derie, you do
    not know how near you cum to havin to wear black, and cashin in
    on my life insurance. Speaking of life insurance, reminds me of
    Skinny's prayer when he turned in one night when it was stormy.
    "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
    If the ship should sink before I wake, Uncle Sam has made a
    $10,000 mistake."</p>

    <p>And speaking of turning in brings up the subject of
    hammicks; show me a guy who can ride one all nite without being
    turned out, and I'll back him to ride the best tricky mule that
    P.T. Bamum ever trained. About the only way to do, when the
    nite is ruff, and the ship is rockin, is to sit down and wait
    until your hammick comes around, and jump on it and choke it
    into insensibility. I made out to do this better than the
    balance of the bunch, as I had had more practice, owing to the
    fact I used to use this method after a nite with the boys; when
    I got to my street I used to sit down on the curb, and wate fur
    my house to come round; when it came I used to jump on it and
    hang on.</p>

    <p>Believe you me Julie, that "A life on the ocean wave" may be
    all rite as a song but its no noise fur a guy who was born and
    brung up in Longacher square.</p>

    <p>Will rite you again as soon as I get my land legs.</p>

    <p>Yours until they build another statue to Von Hindenburg.</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/48.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/48.png"
             alt="'I felt as if I had somethin I &lt;i&gt;must&lt;/i&gt; give up.'" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <p>Dere Julie,</p>

    <p>Arrived in London O.K. and wet. London is worse than them
    that talk about it. When we got unshipped at Liverpool it was
    rainin cats and dogs, Skinny was worried over getting his new
    scenery wet, as he had lost his rain coat, on the way over, so
    he spent all morning in the rain trying to get a new one.
    Skinny was wetter than I was when I went home after my nightie
    the nite you had me stay at your house because it was stormin
    outside. He was so wet the water was runnin offen his rist
    watch; Skinny wasn't worried about the rist watch as he said it
    had been soaked many times before.</p>

    <p>Well derie, I am glad I enlisted; I am sertainly gettin some
    experience in this little ol' scrap; and will have sumpin to
    relate to them slackers when I get home to 'lil ol' New York.
    Skinny asked me did I know what a slacker stood for. I told him
    I didn't know everything but that most of 'em reminded me of a
    lemmen marine pie&mdash;yellow all thru, and not enuff crust to
    go over the top. However don't be too hard on 'em Julie, no
    person is perfect as Mose Jackson said when he was convicted
    for the 10th time of harvestin other peoples poultry.</p>

    <p>The worst thing I haft to lissen to is Skinny talkin about
    his first wife. He says he used to sit and hold her hand fer
    hours; maybe he did, and believe you me Julie from other things
    he said about her, I believe if he'd ever let loose of her hand
    she would have killed him.</p>

    <p>With love, I am</p>

    <p>Yours until the Fritzies sing the Marcel Wave on Unter der
    Linden,</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/52.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/52.png"
             alt="He wuzn't worried. It had been 'soaked' often&mdash;" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <p>Dere Julie,</p>

    <p>Well ol' dear (you see I've already picked up some London
    wheezes) a week has flat-wheeled by since you've heard from
    'lil brighteyes. Last wensday Skinny and me got a pass to do
    the burg, and our pocket books have been at half mast ever
    since. As we are billeted some distance from Picadilly, we
    figgered to go downtown in a taxi, rite there our trubbles
    begun. We asked the pilot of the tin Lizzie what the tax would
    be and he comes back with, "2 and 6 thankee sir." Can you beat
    it? Two dollars fer me and six fer Skinny. We hot footed it
    down and saved that much.</p>

    <p>I didn't care much about ridin with him anyhow. I think he
    was a Jona; anyway he was so cross eyed that if he'd aimed a
    gun at Berlin he would have shot an eye out of
    Constantinopel.</p>

    <p>We wuz a little nervous account of not being wise to the
    customs, but Skinny said if we kept our lids down over our ears
    nobody would be wise as to what was going on inside our skulls.
    The first place we went into was the Palm Tree Inn. All the
    barkeepers and waiters was "Janes." Most of them wuz pretty
    good looking; one "Jane" in particular was there with a front.
    Skinny got one lamp at her and immediately forgot what he
    joined the army for.</p>

    <p>We wondered why it was called Palm Tree Inn cause there
    wasn't a palm in sight, but when we showed the color of our
    coin, then everybody in the joint showed us a palm. The people
    here move slowly, and believe you me Julie a spider slower than
    a fifth avenoo handsome cab would have a cinch spinnin a web
    around all of 'em. Skinny says most of 'em has a long line of
    ancestors; but let me slip you the "info" derie, that some of
    'em must be sinkers on the end of the line. I wish that I
    knowed as much as they think they do.</p>

    <p>Yours till someone counts all the flivvers,</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <p>P.S. Tomorrow night, Skinny wants me to go to the Opera with
    him. I'm not goin&mdash;cause I always sleep better at home.
    I'd rather here a soubrette dolled up in a costume that would
    barely pass the bord of sensers sing a song like "Mother don't
    bother with the rolls, father's coming with a bun."</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/56.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/56.png"
             alt="Skinny got one lamp at her, and immediately forgot what he joined the army for" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <p>Dere Julie:</p>

    <p>These cockney birds sure chirp some language. Believe you
    me, a guy had orto carry an interpreter around with him. Me and
    Skinny went out to a swell English camp today to take a peep at
    English trainin methods; outside we sees a tipical Tommy Atkins
    settin down fixin sumpin wrong with his kicks; as we heaved
    along side of him, he yells out to us, "I say, ol' top, have ye
    any lices?" Skinny, thinkin he ment did we have seam squirrels
    commenced to bawl him out in jig time, telling him there was no
    such things in the good ol' U.S.A. when he came back with, "Oh,
    I say ol' top, I didn't mean the lousy lices, I meant shoe
    lices." What they say over here about these cooties wouldn't
    look well in print, and makes me think they are harder to get
    rid of than a flivver.</p>

    <p>If there's one thing in life that Skinny loves its sumpin
    good to eat. Honestly, Julie, I believe he thinks of eating
    when he's asleep. We goes into a feedin place yesterday in
    White Chapel to satisfy what the poets call, an inner longing.
    I was so hungry my stomak tho't my throat was cut, Skinny slips
    the female "biscuit shooter" a tip and sez, "Now suggest a good
    dinner for me;" and she whispered in his listener "Go to some
    other restaurant." Serves Skinny right about losing the tip for
    he's such a tight wad that when the company sings "Old Hundred"
    at chapel Skinny sings the "Ninety and Nine" just to save a
    cent. Honest Julie, I don't believe he would give two bits to
    see the statue of Liberty do the hoo-chama-cooch. Speaking of
    the hoochy-koochy reminds me that we saw the Ol' Curiosity shop
    that Charlie Dickens wrote about, and desiring to become
    acquainted with how much Skinny knowed about books, plays, and
    etcetery, I asked him did he ever see Oliver Twist? He says "no
    but I've seen Fatima wiggle." He would miss a point if he sat
    down on a tack, and it would take a vaccum cleaner to sweep the
    cob-webs from his noodle; someday I'm gonna hang a peece of
    crape on his nose, for I think his brain is dead.</p>

    <p>That's why I think he always has a cold in his head, as you
    know Julie that disease always strikes in the weakest spot.</p>

    <p>Yours until one of the Kaiser's sons is wounded,</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <p>P.S. Keep offen indoor sports, fur none of 'em has got sense
    enuff to know when to go home.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/60.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/60.png"
             alt="Skinny wouldn't giv 25 cts. to see the Statue of Liberty do th' hoo-cha-ma-coochy" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <p>Dere Julie,</p>

    <p>We have caught up with the Spanish influenzy&mdash;not
    influence! as there ain't no sich thing in the world as Spanish
    influence. The disease is not confined to Spanish people. It
    hit Skinny and he speaks Spanish with an Irish accent, and has
    never been nearer Madrid than a Spanish omelet made in
    Hoboken.</p>

    <p>You're nose gets as red as a rear light on an automobile or
    the beak of a Park Row panhandler. Your knees knock together
    like a man who sees a collector for an installment house. The
    only things it don't attack is your corns. They should rename
    it mucilage flu because it certainly is a sticker; you have as
    much pep as an Ingersol watch with the main spring on a two
    weeks vacation; but cheer up derie, there ain't goin to be any
    job fer any undertaker. No foreman fur a funeral is gonna say
    "All those desirin to kiss the corpse, will please pass up this
    aisle and go down the other." Not for a while I hope; which
    reminds me of that time you and me went to the revival meetin
    in Carnarsie. Remember that Julie? You know the time the
    undertaker put a century note in the plate, and the ol' sky
    pilot not knowing who it wuz prayed that "the business of the
    giver would increase an hundred fold."</p>

    <p>Skinny went into store today to buy a birthday present for
    his "Jane" in the U.S. Steppin blithely up to a fresh sales
    girl he said "I wanna get something for a gift to a lady."
    "Your wife sir?" sed she. Skinny thought it would be safer to
    pose as a married man, so he said "Yes'm." "Bargain counter to
    the right, sir," and she went on wrasslin with her Wrigleys;
    she was so busy with it, she wasted no more time than a blue
    gum coon passing a grave yard at midnight, with no rabbits foot
    in his pocket. The sales ladies in this emporium are always in
    high speed, with the throttle wide open when it comes to
    chatter; at another counter I asked the young lady to show me
    the thinnest thing in underwear. Flashing a 40 below zero look
    she lisped, "I'm very sorry sir, but she's just gone out to
    lunch."</p>

    <p>Yours until the Eskimos wear Palm Beach suits,</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/64.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/64.png"
             alt="'Somethin fer my wife' says he. 'Bargain counter next isle' says she" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <p>Dere Julie:</p>

    <p>We drilled today for the first time since we landed in this
    land of smoke and fog. I'd enjoy these drills, in fact so would
    all the boys, if it wasn't fer Skinny. The only one that's in
    step is him. He knows as much of the commands as a Bowery Bum
    knows about publishing a Chinese newspaper.</p>

    <p>Today we saw a German prisoner for the first time. He looked
    nearly human. Written on his belt was "Gott mit Uns," an
    English soldier who saw it said, "But I say Ol top <i>We have
    the Americans with us</i>." So you see they're wise to us
    already.</p>

    <p>Believe you me derie, if this war lasts six months longer,
    Gen. Pershing and his boys will make German the court language
    in the lower regions.</p>

    <p>Skinny spent last night in the guard house. In trying to get
    back in camp after taps he runs plum into a sentry who said
    "Halt, who goes there?" and Skinny told him "Oh never mind, I
    only have been here a week and you wouldn't know me ennyhow."
    He told me today that he didn't wanna be a kernel as there
    wuzn't much chance fer advancement. I think I told you Julie in
    one of my letters how stingy this bird Skinny is. Last week we
    got a three day ferlow and beat it up to the big burg to see
    the sites. Goin into one of the big hotels, I said to the clerk
    "What are your rates?" "Five shillings up to 10," he said.
    Skinny called me to one side an' whispered "Ask him how much it
    will be up to half-past eight."</p>

    <p>Well, derie, we hear we're soon goin on to France, and then
    fare-thee-well loafin. We be busier than a paralized man with
    the cooties. The only thing that's lible to bother me is the
    language. I don't know whether I can speak it or not, I never
    tried it.</p>

    <p>Yours until they have ham at a Jewish wedding,</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>
    <hr />

    <p>Dere Julie:</p>

    <p>Skinny and me has at last burgled our way into society. You
    know derie, that what I know about the highbrow stuff would
    fill a book, and what Skinny don't know would fill a
    library.</p>

    <p>Believe you me derie, you needn't get jelous for I would
    just as soon get chummy with a flivver as I would with this
    bunch of "Janes" who put us on exhibition, for that was exactly
    what we wuz in their eyes&mdash;freeks on exhibition.</p>

    <p>It happened like this: Lady Blue Jeans Shoddy or some name
    like that was givin an afternoon funkshun (I'm quotin from the
    invite so I can' tell you what it means derie) fer charity and
    a lot of our company was invited to come, admission
    free&mdash;tickets fifty cents. Anyhow it was a lecture by Lord
    Somebody for the benefit of Lord knows what; the nearest I
    could make out it was a spiel on "Do married men make the best
    husbands." I'd like to tell you how I enjoyed the
    talk&mdash;but I don't use that kind of language; anyhow I'll
    lay a small peece of change that this bird knew less about what
    he was trying to talk about than you could drive into a turkey
    gobbler with a peggin' awl. I give in tho, that he was a brave
    cuss; anybody who stood up and shot "bull" like he did for two
    solid hours, must have been brave. Everytime I looked at him I
    thought of that ol saw "Faint heart never kissed the chamber
    maid." When he finished everyone in the audience was "out"
    exceptin an ol maid who was trying to send him a love message
    by eye wireless.</p>

    <p>After his batteries went dead on him we was invited to eat.
    It wuz the first time I ever eat out in company with Skinny,
    and believe you me, Julie, it'll be the last time while I am
    conscious. I'm not going to try to tell you of all his breeches
    of etiket 'twould take too long, but he pulled one that was a
    beaut. He kept mixing honey with his peas; I kep kicking him
    under the table, and finally I got a chanct to whisper "What in
    h&mdash;&mdash; was he doin that for?" He whispers back "How am
    I gonna make 'em stay on my knife if I dont mix 'em with
    sumpin."</p>

    <p>Yours until country bording houses quit using canned
    vegtabils.</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>
    <hr />

    <p>Dere Julie:&mdash;</p>

    <p>When the Kaiser is canned and I get back to the ol' job,
    eatin my 3 a day, and holdin your hand in the movies at nite,
    I'm gonna try fer the vaudeville. We have formed a quartet in
    our company, and we must be pretty good fer up to the present
    nobody has fired anything at us but remarks. Skinny tried to
    git in by telling us his voice was trained; the top sarge sed
    he guessed it was trained all-rite, all-rite, but he must of
    trained it selling strawberries. We have a little Yiddish
    feller in it too, You know, Julie, the one who slips me his
    bacon every mornin; when he ain't soldierin, he runs a little
    gents furnishin store on 8th Avenoo; he's some warbler too, but
    persists in allus wantin to sing "Keep the home fires Burnin."
    Well Julie, if he has ten thou. insurance on that joint of his,
    as he sez he has, no wonder he wants to "keep the home fires
    burnin." He's all business this little Jewish guy. Skinny sez
    if he was shiprecked on a deserted eyeland he would get up the
    next morning and try to sell a map of the eyeland to the
    natives. He's a good business feller too. He rote a song once,
    fer a big vaudeville actor, and the actor wrote Izzy to send it
    along and if it was good he would send a check. Izzy wired back
    to send the check, if it was good, he'd send the song.</p>

    <p>Well Julie, I'd like to see your little blonde bean just
    about now. Believe you me, Julie, me for the blondes every
    time. Skinny says that brunettes is the most popular; well
    maybe he's right; ennyhow his girl has been both, so I suppose
    he knows. I don't know whether you ever saw this "dame" of
    Skinny's or not Julie. She lives on the upper east side of New
    York and ways about 275 plus in her bathin suit; believe you
    me, she ought to marry a traffic cop as he's the only guy I
    know of that can handle a crowd. I'll bet 10 cents against
    Bryan's chance of being Pres. Skinny can wear one of her
    stockins for a sweater. If she ever wore a striped waist she'd
    look like the awning over a greek candy store, she never knows
    when she needs a shine, fer, like Bill the Twospot, she can't
    see de feat.</p>

    <p>Believe you me, angel face she looks like a model fer a
    tent.</p>

    <p>When Her and Skinny walks along Broadway the newsies yell,
    "Hully Gee! Here goes the claronet and the bass drum, where's
    the rest of the band?" I'm tellin Skinny I can't see anything
    attractive about her, and he says "I know you can't see
    anything but she's got it in the bank all-rite, all-rite."</p>

    <p>Speaking about this William Jennins Bryan, I'm readin in the
    papers about a bull chasin him half way across a field. Imagine
    Julie, a bull doin that to Theo. Rusevelt, it wouldn't go ten
    feet before Theo would turn round, grab it by the tale and
    throw it. When it comes to throwin the bull Theo. has any
    Spainnard or Mex lashed to the mast howling for mercy.</p>

    <p>Yours until Eva Tanguay quits singin "I don't care."</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <p>P.S. Tell your ol' man not to lose any sleep over the four
    bits I owe him on that last peaknuckle game, for if anything
    happens to me here you can give it to him out of the l.i.
    policy.</p>
    <hr />

    <center>
        NOWHERE IN FRANCE.
    </center>

    <p>Dere Julie:</p>

    <p>At last we are in the land made famous by Joan of Ark, and
    notorious by N. Bonaparty. The little burg we are billeted in
    is about as big as a pound of choclates after a Yale-Harvard
    football game. It's so small you can stand on the corner of Rue
    de Main and spit into the country. It looks like the ornament
    on a birthday cake or a picture post office card.</p>

    <p>We have been hear about 1 week, and would have written
    sooner but for the second time in the life of yours truly, I am
    recovering from "Mal dee Mear" (the name is bad enuff, but the
    disease is worse) Third Class passengers call it sea-sickness,
    but if you have a first class cabin, you are supposed to call
    it mal dee mear.</p>

    <p>They say its only about 30 miles from Dover to Callay; maybe
    it is on a calm day, but believe you me derie, we went up the
    hills of water to the tune of about a hundred miles. It was
    all-rite goin up, but Julie goin down is when everything "comes
    up." That's if you have anything left to come up.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/74.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/74.png"
             alt="'I don't know what to call you,' sez he. 'Call me an ambulance,' sez I." />
        </a>
    </div>

    <p>The game we played comin over would have been a good trainin
    fer a prize fiter. We tumbled round so we looked like we was
    shadow boxin. "Snappy brand of weather" pipes one of these
    sailor guys. He was rite, I never remember givin a better
    imitation of a whip snapper; and the wind, Julie dere, the wind
    which spends its time round the Flatiron and Woolworth
    Buildings, are as the poets say "gentle zephers" to that which
    sweeps across the English channel when a man sized storm is on;
    it listens like a cross between the moan of a dyin giastacutus
    and a subway express behind time under the East River.</p>

    <p>I never before was so glad to set my foot on dri land. I was
    so tickled I could have kisst the ground if it had been
    Hoboken, N. J.U.S.A. Next time they send me to Vive la France,
    I hope they send me by parcels post or airoplane. I bumped into
    the Captain; he said, "I dunno what to call you," I told him he
    could call me an ambulance or a taxi, anything to get to land
    with. We have been on water so much since we swore our way into
    the army, that I don't know whether I'm in the army or navy.
    Tomorrow me and Skinny is gonna get a pass to look over Paree.
    We're lookin forward to a big time with what Skinny calls "Ze
    gay chansonettes." I don't know whether he means a disease or a
    dance, as I don't make this parley-voo much, but I'm gonna find
    out before we come back.</p>

    <p>With love I am yours until my wrist watch goes 24 hrs
    without takin a recess,</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <p>P.S. How about my other shirt, did you get it from the
    Chinks?</p>
    <hr />

    <center>
        Nowhere in France the morning after a night in Paris.
    </center>

    <p>Dere Julie:</p>

    <p>So this is Paris. Believe you me, Julie, I don't see why
    they wanna keep Wilhelm the Twicer away from this burg; give
    him 48 hrs. in Paree like the once around the clock we had here
    and it would be fare-thee-well Wilhelm. There would be nothin
    left to say but "don't he look natural."</p>

    <p>Speaking of funerals, Julie reminds me that was the first
    thing we met up with when we arrove in Paree! Flowers,
    paul-bearers, an everything. Skinny lowed as how it must be
    some high and mitey who had joined his 4 fathers, and asked a
    Frenchy standing on the curb of the "bull-yard" who the big guy
    wuz? Shrugging his shoulders, he pipes up with sumpin which
    sounded like "Monsewer Jennyseepah." Well, we didn't ever here
    of the poor boob, so we went over onto the next Rue (make that
    Julie. I'm getting along fine), and we runs slap bang! into a
    other funeral more elegant than the first; and Skinny not
    wantin to let anything get by him, again asked the name of the
    guy ridin in the head waggin and he got the same answer
    "Monsewer Jennyseepah." "Yer a liar," yelled Skinny, "we just
    saw <i>his</i> funeral on the other street." Well, Julie, I
    don't blame Skinny, I was a little sore myself on the way this
    guy tried to string us.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/78.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/78.png"
             alt="Me an' Skinny seen the toom of Napoleon the Wunst." />
             </a>
    </div>

    <p>We got along seem the sights without much trouble; the toom
    of Napoleon the Wunst, the bridge over the Sane, the 4th of
    July colum and Champ de Lizzie; feelin hungry we drifted into a
    swell lookin feedin place with good lookin she waiters. Now
    don't be nervous Julie, there ain't nothin gonna happen with me
    and them Jane's; for believe you me star of my heart, I don't
    <i>care</i> what anybody says to me, but you can bet every
    dollar that Hetty Green ever gave to charity, that when I do
    marry, I'm gonna get a dame who bawls me out in language that I
    understand. Well, luckily we struck a she waiter who spoke a
    little American; to put it as she said "I speek a leetle of
    what Monsewer calls ze Anglaise." The first thing we ordered
    was soop. The Jane brought it in a bowl and had her thum jabbed
    into it, when Skinny pointed to her thum in the soop, she
    grinned and sed "Zats all rite, Monsewer, it is not hot." We
    got along very well (considerin that Skinny kept her mind offen
    her business by trying to send her a eye wireless) and got down
    to the desert. You know me Julie, Me for the good old fashioned
    pies like my ol' lady makes. Gettin a lamp at what looked like
    a juicy huckleberry pie, I pointed to it and said in my company
    tone of voice "Please give me a big dose of that huckleberry
    pie." Puttin on her prettiest smile and rollin her eyes, and
    arching her shoulders she cum back with "if Monsewer will
    pleese brush off ze flies, he will find it is custard
    pie&mdash;NOT ze huckleberry."</p>

    <p>Its a good thing we are leaving to-morrow to go toward the
    front for if we staid round her long the moral of our regiment
    would stand at about zero minus 5.</p>

    <p>Yours until they chase the Kaiser to Holland with the
    balance of the windmills.</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>
    <hr />

    <center>
        On the Hike Nowhere in France.
    </center>

    <p>Dere Julie:</p>

    <p>There shure is a bunch of widows over here, Both grass and
    sod. I say little brighteyes, do you think it possible fer a
    guy to get hay fever from a grass widow? Ennyhow Skinny got
    some kind uv fever when he was chummin round with these female
    comfort kits, and if they don't lose his trail, I can see
    visions of a certain (what the dickens is that French word for
    fat&mdash;oh yes, embumpoint), lady in Hoboken, N.J.U.S.A.,
    lookin fer a new affinity. In other words, unless the signs is
    misleading, Skinny is gonna lose his liberty by gettin married,
    and its the opinion of your "'Lil Brighteyes" that the speech
    of P. Henry of Va. on "Give me Liberty or give me deth" was
    made, more because he was married than because he was
    patriotic; and all the married men, I'm told Julie, are chirpin
    the same wheeze. Of course with you derie, its different. I
    don't believe you would accuse a feller of keepin another woman
    when his pay envelope is a nickle shy on Sat. night.</p>

    <p>Skinny and me had a date with the Pudding Sisters at the
    canteen last nite, and believe you me, they was some babies,
    and was well worth the money we spent on 'em.</p>

    <p>Some people we met today from Belgium say that when the
    Fritzies get soused, they hug and kiss every woman they meet.
    What a fat chance for that sweet maiden of fifty years who
    grabbed me off at the station, the day I left for camp. You can
    bet your Wrigleys that after a regiment passed her she would
    make a detour and catch up with the head of it again.</p>

    <p>Yours until Eyetalian restaurants serve real wine.</p>

    <p>BARNEY.</p>

    <p>P.S. After readin this letter over I tho't I'd better wise
    you up on that date me and Skinny had with the pudding sisters
    at the canteen last nite. Women are so suspicious you know. I
    ment we went down to the canteen to get some puddin, rice and
    tapioca.</p>

    <p class="author">"B."</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/84.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/84.png"
             alt="She would run and ketch up with the hed of the perseshun" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <p>Dere Julie:</p>

    <p>Your last lovin letter was rec'd by your little bright eyes
    in a quaint old burg in viva la France, just back of where the
    Yanks are making soup strainers of William the Twicer's boobs
    by punchin them in the kitchen with that "wooden sword of
    America." You know Julie, that story that the Emp has been
    jabbing them in the arm with about "America couldn't fite if
    she would, and wouldn't if she could," and tellin em also about
    Germany's "submarines sinking all the Yanks transports etcery
    etcery." If Bill keeps this up very long they will nickname him
    Barnum.</p>

    <p>Speaking of William the Twospot, reminds me of what one of
    our boys, which was taken prisoner and escaped, wuz telling
    about what the Emp said when he saw so many of our boys on the
    front at Chato Theiry; sendin fer some of his generals he
    deemanded they tell him what boat brung all them Yanks over.
    One of 'em piped up and sed "I think, yer Majesty it was the
    Lusitania." Being German, it went over his bed like a air
    ship.</p>

    <p>The way things are goin now, it looks as if William the
    Twicer is gonna have a great future behind him: Skinny sez the
    Klown Quince and his army reminds him very much of his
    (Skinny's) brother who went out west and made twenty Indians
    run&mdash;but the Indians couldn't ketch him. Believe you me
    derie, the Boches are running faster than the color in a 19 ct.
    pair of stockins. They are hot footin it faster than the train
    that I left for camp on pulled out of Grand Central Station;
    and that pulled out so fast that when I tried to kiss you from
    the window when she started, I kissed a cow ten miles away.</p>

    <p>Well Julie dere, I miss you much believe you me. I'd rather
    see you just about now than a messenger with the news that
    piece has been sined; of course there's a lot of nice girls
    hear amung the Red X Nurses and Y workers, but there's so many
    officers and gold braids round that fellers like us dont get
    any more show than a dollar at a church fair.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/88.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/88.png"
             alt="Speakin' of William the Two-spot" /></a>
    </div>

    <p>We're up now to where we can hear the noise of the big 75's
    as they pound the Boches from their trenches and have gotten so
    used to it that we can't sleep without it. Every once in a
    while we see the ambulances comin in, and a lot of the boys
    have to be watched to keep em from trying to beat it back into
    the trenches again. We heard yesterday Julie, about a
    detachment who went over the top and the commanding officer
    told em not to go beyond a certain objective during the first
    half hour; when the half hour was up they wuz a half mile
    beyond the objective. When the major of the battalion bawled
    out the company commander, he yelled back at him
    "H&mdash;&mdash; if the Crown Prince's men couldn't stop 'em
    what chance had I to stop 'em?" That's whats winning this hi'
    ol' scrap Julie&mdash;we hit em first and apologise
    afterward.</p>

    <p>Some of our boys was sayin to-day that they thought the war
    would soon be over, and when I ast Skinny about it, he allowed
    as how that meant fer single guys only; that the war would go
    on fer married men just the same. Corporal Louie Heinlein sez
    that song "Here cums the bride is the greatest battle song of
    all" and Louie has had a lot of experience with "Janes." But
    with you and me Julie dere, that will be sumpin else again.</p>

    <p>Yours till people keep their New Year's resolutions until
    Valentines day,</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>
    <hr />

    <p>Dere Julie,</p>

    <p>At last I have smelt the smoke of battel, and fer the third
    time since I joined the colors you don't know how near you've
    been to cashing that 10 thou. insurance policy. You would have
    cashed it fer sure this time, if it hadn't been fer a despised
    cooty; never again will yours truly be hard on 'em.</p>

    <p>I have one that I'm gonna retire on a penshun. It wuz like
    this. Our regiment wuz called upon to go into the front line
    trenches and while I was peepin over the top, one of them pesky
    "seam squirrels" commenced bitin the back of my neck. I bent my
    head for'd to reach over on the back of my neck to pick him
    off, at one and the same time a sniper cut loose at me from a
    big tree just outside the line of Fritzies trenches; had my
    head been where it was before I started to get the cooty, it
    would have been fare-thee-well Barney, so I just put Mr.
    Lifesaver back, and, as before stated, I'm gonna put him on a
    penshun.</p>

    <p>Believe you me derie, the way our boys made that sniper
    climb down out of that tree would make Tarzan of the apes have
    a hemorage, and turn green with envy; he shinned down that
    landscape decorashun like as if it was greased.</p>

    <p>Well derie, when we first swore our way into the army, I
    thought Skinny was a coward; I figgered if he ever got in a
    regular scrap with Bill the Twicers hired patriots his knees
    would knock together like a pair of castnets played by a
    Spanish bull fiter; but I take it all back, Skinny in battel is
    a whole team and a cross dog under the waggin. It came about
    like this. We was bein bumbarded by the Fritzies in the most
    approved style and believe you me derie, the shells and
    shrapnels was flyin round and over our heads thicker than
    hungry bums around a free lunch counter; all to once Skinny
    commenced to get a bad case of the hecups. I didn't say
    anything to him as I was busy with a little party of my own
    when all to once he yells to me, "Say Barney, fer Heavens sake
    do somethin to scare me so I can get rid of these
    d&mdash;&mdash; hecups." So you see Julie dere, you never can
    tell by the looks of a frog how fer it can jump.</p>

    <p>This lil' old scrap has brung out a lot of cases like
    Skinny's; fellers in civil life that you think wouldn't have
    the sand to get manicured, or ther hair cut without takin
    cloroform, are puttin themselves on the map faster than towns
    on newly opened Government land. Even the married men in our
    regiment are gettin so "Spiffy" that I believe they'll have
    sand enough to talk back to friend wif when they get back
    home.</p>

    <p>Yours until they make bottles without false bottoms.</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/92.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/92.png"
             alt="He cum down that tree quicker than Tarzan uv the Apes" />
        </a>
    </div>

    <p>Dere Julie,</p>

    <p>Well Julie, a courier has just horned his way into camp with
    the "info" that this lil ol' scrap is over, and I've lost an
    other chance to be a hero; but I'm not gonna go round making a
    noise like a dill pickel, just because I didn't get no show to
    give the Fritzies a upper cut. I'd rather be a live simp Julie,
    than a dead hero, any day.</p>

    <p>Its better for me ennyhow, to say "there he goes, than here
    he lies." Believe you me derie, I've saw enuff of the damage
    these Boch pills can do, to know that a boob who tries to stop
    one of 'em with his frame, has no more chance than a 10 cent
    piece of ice when the thermometer is 99 plus in the shade, or a
    scuttle of suds in a Bowery gin mill.</p>

    <p>Well Ol' dear, she's over, and I didn't get a chance to
    croak a single Fritzie. My ol' man had better luck in the civil
    war. He was out one hot nite with a foraging party and they run
    into a confed ambuscade, a big fat Johnny Reb took after my old
    man and the chase was nip and tuck fer about 2 miles. Just when
    the ol' gent had give himself as lost, he saw over his shoulder
    the confed fall down in a heap and die from being overheated.
    But at last Julie dere, we have made the world safe fer the
    Democrats, so you can kill the cow's young son fer little
    bright eyes as they did fer that young high roller mentioned in
    the Bible. If veal is top high in the good ol' U.S.A., I'll be
    satisfied with a table-dee-hoty dinner at the Cafe Des Enfants
    (meaning Child's Restaurant), I'm not particular Julie, so long
    as every course is served with your smilin face opposite. The
    more I see of the "Janes" over here the better I like the
    Julies over there. I've saw 'em all and not a one can hold a
    tallow candle up a dark alley to my own Julie. In the language
    of the poet</p>

    <div class="poem">
        <div class="stanza">
            <p>You can talk of English women</p>

            <p class="i2">Who like there beef and beer;</p>

            <p>Of Italy's black haired beauties</p>

            <p class="i2">Who love there land so dere;</p>

            <p>Of Spanish turtle doves</p>

            <p class="i2">Who sing of wealth and love;</p>

            <p>But give me the U.S. Girl</p>

            <p class="i2">She wins my esteem</p>

            <p>Fer everytime you kiss her</p>

            <p class="i2">You get the flavor of&mdash;Boston Pork
            &amp; Beans!</p>
        </div>
    </div>

    <div class="figcenter"
         style="width:100%;">
        <a href="images/96.png"><img width="100%"
             src="images/96.png"
             alt="Home again, across the ol' Atlantic." /></a>
    </div>

    <p>Skinny has just arrove back in camp from the trenches and
    got the news about the sining of the armistice. He was caked
    with mud from hed to foot, which he said he didn't mind till
    our captin complimented him on holdin all the ground they took
    yesterday. I guess Skinny thot he was bein kidded. I made him
    pull off his clothes in jig time fer if he'd ever get caught
    out in the rain like that he would have suffered a
    landslide.</p>

    <p>Well derie, I don't suppose an other letter will reach you
    before "Yours truly" so I can't say if I will rite again or
    not; enny-ways on our way back across the ol' Atlantic we wont
    have to look out fer any of William the Twicers tin fish, and
    when I get back to the land of the free and the home of the
    brave, I'm gonna be afraid to get on a ferry boat fer fear she
    might head across the ocean. And now Julie, fare-thee-well
    until I hold you in my arms again,</p>

    <p>Yours until married men have alibyes there wives believe</p>

    <p class="author">BARNEY.</p>

    <p>P.S. I've just learned our regiment is to leave for home at
    once, so plug the push button on that guys bell in the
    hallway.</p>
    <hr class="full" />







<pre>





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