Comical letters of an illiterate rookie in the national army stationed at a southern training camp, written to his best girl. Good fun to read aloud. Author is a lieutenant at Spartansburg and some of these letters appeared in The gas attack, a magazine published under the direction of the Y.M.C.A.
ck stuff till we was more used to the thing. You cant argue with sargents, though.
Day after tomorrows inspecshun. They do it every Saturday. Thats another thing Im thankful for. Theres only one Saturday a weak. We pull everything out an pile it on our cots. Then the Captin an the Sargent comes in. Every time its the same. He says "Thats very dirty Smith wheres your other shirt." An I say "I aint got none, sir." An he says "Sargent make a note of that." An then the Sargent rites somethin in a little book. Next time just the same. The Captin says wheres my shirt an the sargent makes a note. I guess theres somethin in the drill regulations what makes him say that cause I aint got no other shirt yet.
Well Mable Im gettin hungry again now. Guess Ill have to stop an buy a couple of pies. We dont get nothin to eat for an hour yet.
yours till the ice cracks in the pale, Bill.
P.S. I had to borrow a stamp for this letter. I went down town yesterday an spent my last sent on a money