Chapter 1

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

LOVE LETTERS

OF A

ROOKIE

TO JULIE

_BY_ BARNEY STONE

HEADQUARTERS CO., 119 F.A. A.E.F.

ILLUSTRATIONS _BY_ GORDON ROSS

Copyright 1919 by

THE SHERWOOD CO.

All rights reserved

To--

R.E.S., whose Suggestions made these pages possible and palatable.

_DERE JULIE_

IN CAMP (Somewhere between the Kitchen and the lunch counter).

Dere Julie,

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--no wheres in particular.

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.

Our going away was some deeparture; I'll bet a small piece of change that every fair young damsel on the block was present--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.

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.

Yours loving dough-boy,

BARNEY.

P.S.--I don't know why they call us dough boys, for thirty per aint much "dough," is it angel face?

Same Camp.

(Not on the map.)

Dere Julie,

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.

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.

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.

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.

Yours until Lillian Rustle retires,

BARNEY.

P.S.--I'd rather be a lamp post on Broadway, than a ten story building down here.

In Camp C, W and H.

(Meaning cold, wet and hungry.)

Dere Star of My Heart,

Big day for us; we got our new soldier scenery--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.

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--one look at 'em makes you tired. The only things that fit are the hat cord and collar ornaments.

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

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.

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.

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.

Yrs in Health

BARNEY.

P.S.--I left my other shirt at the "chinks" to be laundered. Don't let him sell it for charges before I get back.

Dere Julie,

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?

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.

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.

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---- if he would be bossed by a guy like that, he changed his mind to d---- 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.

Yours until the William the Twicer gives that dinner in Paris,

BARNEY.

P.S.--I hope Skinny keeps well. He will if he don't try to sing again tonite.

Dere Julie,

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."

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.

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.

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,

BARNEY.

P.S.--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----. Now that the Yanks have Come in fur fair, Kings, Queens and two spots is gonna be throwed in the discard.

Dere Julie,

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.

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 _he_ 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.

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.

Yours truly and affectionately,

BARNEY.

Dere Julie:

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 _anyone_ to poetry, if he didn't "do the Dutch" first."

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--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.

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,

BARNEY.

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

Friday the thirteenth.

Dere Julie:

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----. 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--2000 revolutions per minute.

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--nuff sed. Don't ever try to tell me again that Friday the thirteenth is unlucky.

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.

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---- fool enuff to fall fur Theo's bunk.

Yours 'till the Klown Quince sings the Star Spangled Banner.

BARNEY.

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 niggers."

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 booby hatch fer askin me real loud like, so everybody could hear him to "please put some of them tokens on his plate."

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 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.

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."

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.

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.

Dere Julie,

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.

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--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.

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.

With love, I am

Yours until the Fritzies sing the Marcel Wave on Unter der Linden,

BARNEY.

Dere Julie,