Part 2 (1/2)

Camp Wadsworth.

Dere Julie:--

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 n.i.g.g.e.rs.”

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.

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--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 b.o.o.by hatch fer askin me real loud like, so everybody could hear him to ”please put some of them tokens on his plate.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Dinner fer white folks, but jest 12 o'clock fer n.i.g.g.e.rs--”]

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”--an' me paying 25c. an hour for the boat. Of course you didn't think of that, did you derie.

Yours until Brooklyn wins another penant,

BARNEY.

Dere Julie:

On land again, thank G.o.d! 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.

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 s.h.i.+p; 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 c.u.m to havin to wear black, and cas.h.i.+n 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 s.h.i.+p should sink before I wake, Uncle Sam has made a $10,000 mistake.”

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 s.h.i.+p 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.

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.

Will rite you again as soon as I get my land legs.

Yours until they build another statue to Von Hindenburg.

BARNEY.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”I felt as if I had somethin I _must_ give up.”]

Dere Julie,

Arrived in London O.K. and wet. London is worse than them that talk about it. When we got uns.h.i.+pped 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.

Well derie, I am glad I enlisted; I am sertainly gettin some experience in this little ol' sc.r.a.p; 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--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.