Chapter 2
Theyve made me a door tender to a Soizant Cans. All Ive got to do is to open the door an another fello puts in the shell. Then I close the door an start the shell on its way with a piece of string. Its a pretty important job cause if I dont latch the door the whole works will probably come out the back entrance.
Our horses came today. They must have thought this was a mobile vetrinary hospittle insted of a battery. Whoever grooms those things will have to lean them up agenst something. I read somewhere how the average life of a horse in this war is only 60 days. Accordin to that this bunch has seen about seven weeks service already.
Every mornin we go out to the range an shoot away liberty bonds. The good part about shootin into a desert like that is that theres nothin out there to hit so you can call it a bullseye no matter where you land. The oficers just walk around shakin hands an tellin each other what good shots they are. They sit up behind the guns in a place that looks like the press box of a baseball game. It has a nice roof an everything. When it rains they just pull their toes in sos the water wont drip offen the roof on them. Then they say "This is war. We cant stop for a little wet." Every time a fello fires they call it a problem. About the biggest problem is to figger what their firin at.
In the afternoon we go to school. Yesterday a fello gave us a talk on the "Art of Handlin Men." Marv Motel says he knew him in New York. He used to be a rubber in a Turks bath on 42nd street.
Theyve ishued green badges to the fellos that was down on the border. It looks like St. Patricks day around here. Angus MacKenzie that wasnt there calls them horse exercise medals. The day I put mine on the French fello thats learnin us about telefones came up an shook hands with me. All the Frogs think somebody has sighted us for bravery. Its a good thing nobody knows enuff French to tell them about it.
The French have a medal they call the Crawdy Gare. If you do something pretty good like sittin on a hand granade sos it wont go off an bother the Captin or fieldin a shell right over the kitchin they hang one of these on you. Then if you do somethin awful good like drivin a General fast past a place thats been shelled they let you wear a silver rubber plant on the ribbon.
Were almost ready to go up to the front now. I guess they want to get us there before the horses 60 days is up to save funeral expenses. Just at the last minit they ishued us a lot of replacement troops as if we didnt have enuff to carry. The governmint dont need to waste no tin derbies on that bunch. They certinly looked as if theyd been doin some hard fast travelin when they struck here. All they had was what was on them an that was mostly cooties.
I aint allowed to tell you wether were goin to the front from here or not. I dont see why its such a secret tho cause were so far in the rear here that its about the only way we could go. If you dont here from me for a long time I dont want you to worry cause I may not be killed but just badly wounded or taken prisoner or something. Or there might be just a chance that it was because I was to busy to rite. This door tender job is pretty important. When they get to fightin I guess Ill have to be around most of the time.
Yours till I leave the door unlatched _Bill_
_Dere Mable:_
Were on our way to the front. I bet the Kiser an that funny lookin kid of his is gettin there pulmoters out. We traveled three days an two nights on the train an now we been hikin two nights more. I havnt heard a gun yet. I dont think the Captin knows where the front is. Theres a roomer around that we got off at the wrong stashun. I suppose now we got to walk half way across France just because that fello dont know how to read a time table.
They landed us in a field outside of a town. Youd have thought we got off right in front of the Fritz trenches the way the oficers acted. The new Lootenant bawled everybody out for not wearin there gas masks at the alert. That means tyin it under your chin like a bib.
We didnt lose much time unloadin. Nobody knew then but what the Fritzes might want to park a few Berthas right where we were. Then we just sat around in the rain and waited. After about an hour the Captin came splashin down the road an says "Harness an hitch. Come on. Hurry up." He always gives an order as tho hed given it an hour before an nobodied paid any attenshun to him. It didnt sound reasonable to me cause it was gettin dark then an it would be time to turn in before we could get any place. Bein a cannon ear tho an not havin anything to do with the horses I didnt say anything. Willin. Thats me all over, Mable.
After wed got hitched up we stood around for an hour more blottin up rain. The Captin just leaned agenst his horse smokin a cigar as tho that was the best place in the world to spend the evenin. Hes got one of these Drench coats so it doesnt make any difference to him if everybody else dissolved. Just as it was gettin dark a fello came up on a motor cycle an gave him some mail. Then we started. It made the fellos awful sore cause they say thats all he was waitin for. I thought of course the Bilitin oficer had found some place that was worse down the road an was takin us there for the nite. But we just marched an marched till everybody could see that the Captin didnt know where he was goin.
We couldnt light a light or scratch matches or nothin. The Captin said a lot of Dutch airyplanes was out to get us an as soon as we struck a light theyd drop bums on us. Then he passed the word back that nobody was to talk above a whisper. The old guns rattle so you couldnt hear anybody unless he yelled anyway. The Captin means all right but he read to much cheap literachoor when he was a kid.
Every few minits a string of trucks would go tearin by in the other direcshun. None of them had any lights. Its lucky they didnt cause if they could have ever seen how near they came to not missin us they could never have got there hair to lie down agen. When we were in camp back in the States you dasnt go over ten miles an hour for fear somebody would fall down in front of you and get run over. When you get over here tho the idear seems to be to make the war as dangerous as you can.
After a while I undid a couple of blanket rolls that didnt seem to belong to anyone an I was just gettin as comfortable as a fello can on top of a caisson in the pourin rain. I was dozin off when I heard someone say "Whos that ridin on that carriage?" There was only one person could ask a question like that. Right away I started to make myself uncomfortable cause I knew thats probably what the trouble was. Then he rode up an says "Is that you Smith? Didnt you hear me order nobody to ride on any of the carriages?" Theres no use arguin with the Captin. Its just a case of "All right. Have it my way."
They go to all the trouble of bildin a seat on these wagons. They spend a year teachin you to sit on it in the most uncomfortable way. Then when the first possible reason for usin them comes along they make everybody get off an walk. I spent the rest of the nite kickin mud puddles off the road.
About dawn we pulled off the road into an orchard an put some branches over the guns to cover up the camooflage paint. I thought after bein up all nite on account of his foolishness the Captin would at least take pity on the horses an let them alone. That would have given us some chance to sleep. Nothin would do tho but that we spend about half the day smoothin them out. He says it makes them feel good. Of course the way we feel hasnt got nothin to do with it.
After wed scoured the horses till they must have been sorer than we were they gave us some monkey meat an let us turn in. Back to the hay barns agen. That Bilitin oficer ought to make good on some board of health when we get home. He can pick out all the worst places in a town ten minites after he gets there.
Sleepin in the daytime is a kind of a joke anyway in the army. Every time you get to sleep the horses has to be fed. And when your not feedin them you got to get up an feed yourself. In the army a fellos hungry when they tell him to eat an no other time.
After theyd blown a horn at me about eight different times I figgered I might as well stay up an rite you a letter. Now that were gettin up near the front Im goin to rite just as much as I can. Thats partly sos you wont worry an partly so that if I get knocked off you will have something to amuse you in case you go into a convent.
I had to leave all those sweters an caps an everything that you nitted me last winter. You dont need to feel bad about that tho cause they wouldnt let us wear them anyway. If everybody wore all the stuff thats been nitted for them since the war started this would look more like an ice carnival than an army. Its sentiment that counts, tho, not wool.
In the meantime still _Bill_
_Dere Mable:_
After travelin for three nites we dont seem to be any nearer the front than we ever was. Ether the Fritzes are retreatin in trucks or were goin the wrong way. The only reason were not marchin tonite is because when we got into this town the Captin found a chatto for his P.C. P.C. is military, Mable. It means a place for the Captin. Mike Whozis, the Captins orderly, says hes got one of those limosine beds with a roof an sides on it. Its so big it dont make any difference how you lie on it. If all he says about it is true we may stick around for the rest of the war.
Well, never mind. Sailor Gare as the French say. Thats some old pirate they blame everything on over here.
A bunch of prisoners came in last nite. They must have surrounded half the German army cause it looked like a decorashun day parade when the M.P. brought them in. If they make another hawl like that well have about as much to fire at up at the front as we did back on the range. Id never seen any Fritzes so Angus an I went down to the pen this afternoon to see if they were breakin the child labor law or had any wimmin with machine guns tied to them like you read about.
The pen is just a bunch of barracks not much better than the place where we sleep. They got a lot of barb wire an an M.P. around it. The Fritzes didnt look very wild to me. More like a bunch of stashun porters out of a job. We tried to argu the M.P. into lettin a few of them go at a time sos we could catch them agen but he took the war awful serious.
I got in wrong with the Captin agen today. This army is something like gamblin. Whichever way you decide your bound to lose sooner or later. Youd think that the only reason a fello would give you food was because he expected you to eat it. Thats because you dont know the army. The other day they ishued each fello what they called Irun Rashuns. That means a can of petrified crackers an a can of gold fish. Its not a bad name for the crackers. Your supposed to tote around your Irun Rashuns with you wherever you go. The only thing is that you mustnt eat them.
When they handed them out the Captin said we wasnt ever to eat them unless we absolutely had to. As if anybody in his right mind would. Im all for obeyin orders tho when it dont conflict with my duty. Joe Balderose ate his half an hour after breakfast and then wanted me to split with him on mine. I says "No. Not till I absolutely have to. An then Ill be so far gone that you wont have a look in." I waited till hap past ten tho I was gettin awful weak the last half hour. Youd ought to have heard the Captin when he saw me. Youd have thought I was eatin some of his old harness.
As far as I can see, Mable, its just another of his ways of passin the buck. If General Perishing should happen to find one of us starved to death some mornin he wants to be able to show him we had plenty of food on us when we slipped away. Hes smart all right, that fello.
You cant tell what may happen before I have a chance to rite agen but we wont cross any bridges before we leap as the poets say.
Yours to the last crum _Bill_
_Dere Mable:_
Were on the front at last in what they call a quiet sector. Most of the soldiers round this place is French. I understand there pretty sore at the Americans cause some of them came up here and began shootin up the Germans. Of course you cant have a decent war if nobodies goin to pay any atenshun to the rules.
The worst part of the war is gettin to it. I been rained on so much the last week I feel like an old sponge. Every nite weve been marchin along thru the pitch dark with trucks an guns an everything else that rattles poundin along on each side.
Nobody could strike a light durin the whole trip. Then when we get to this place the Frenchmen that we were goin to relieve came out in the road with lanterns to see who we were. Its a wonder the Captin didnt make us crawl up on our hands an knees.
We finally got the guns in posishun. How we found the place in the dark is more than I can tell. Were in the middle of a ruined village. It looks like those picturs of old Greek office buildins that hangs in the high school hall. Its funny, Mable, but the first real rest Ive had since I got in the army is since Ive got to the front. The only livin thing we see is rats an airyplanes. The archies shoot all day at the planes but it dont seem to bother them much. They just sail along like a limosine with a lot of little dogs tryin to bite off the tires. I guess if they ever hit one the shock would kill the gun crew as quick as it would the pilot.
Our guns is pointed at a hill right in front of us. Every mornin we fire a few shots at this an then spend the rest of the day cleanin the guns. If they used these guns as much as they clean them the war would have been over long ago. Toward evenin the Fritzes return the complement. Everybody comes out to see where they land but they must fire them up in the air cause nobodies ever been able to find out yet. When your not cleanin the gun or on gard you have to stay down in your dugout sos the airyplanes wont see you. Theyve got to be awful quick if they want to get a sight of me. Ive got the deepest dugout except for the Captin. When the Top sargent wants a detail you can bet hes not goin to clime down fifty steps after one Buck private.
Ive found the first real use for my tin derby. The fello that invented these dugouts couldnt seem to decide wether to put in stairs or a ladder so he split the difference. Right across the top of the entrance he put a nice sharp beam. Its fixed so that it gets you in the chin goin down an on the top of the head comin up. Hed have split more than the difference long ago if it hadnt been for that tin derby of mine.
Marv Motel, whats gunner on my piece, is busy all day fixin things up. He says if were goin to be here the rest of our lives we mights well have things homelike. He dug up an old rug an a lace curtin somewhere that the Germans had missed. The rug hes got in the gun pit an the curtin over the trail of the gun to set the barrage shell on. They keep a shell ready all the time in case somebody starts a battle without the usual weeks notice. Marvs got it shined up like a young doctors door plate. Every nite he raps it up an put an old one in its place. Angus says when he gets time hes goin to carve the names of the gun crew on the side sos we can take it back an give it to some museum.
Well, Mable, you might as well take down your service flag. I guess the only action Ill ever see is when I get home an meet Archie Wainwright.
Yours till theres something doin _Bill_
_Dere Mable:_
Well, you can take your service flag out of moth balls agen. An if the Fritzes try any more monkey bisiness like they did this mornin you can buy a can of radiator paint for the star.
Angus an I was standin outside the dugout finishin our mornin goldfish an plannin a few correkshuns for the army when a boiler exploshun happened right behind us. After things had quieted down a bit I looked out from behind a piece of old stone wall where I seemed to be lyin, to see if there was anything left for identificashun. I saw a foot layin outside the dugout. I knew it belonged to Angus cause hes the only man in the army with one like it. I was just goin to pick it up thinkin his family might like it to remember him by when another foot came out. Then the whole of him. Hed crawled under an old pawlin that had been spread out to dry. This war certinly has proved that fish aint a brain food. Outside of bein a little mussed up from a mud pubdle hed found under the pawlin he seemed all right. When I ast him if he was lookin for anything, tho, he got all worked up. The Skotch is awful emoshunal.
While we was standin there wonderin wether somebodied been smokin in bed in the amunishun dug out another boiler blew up right in front of us. At least I think it was in front as near as I could tell from the bottom of the dug out stairs. Angus saved my life that time cause we both happened to go down the stairs together an I went down on top of Angus.
Marv Motel was asleep down in the dug out. He got awful sore an wanted to know how a fello was ever goin to get any rest with a bunch of this an that fools rough housin around all day. Then came two more black hand awtrocities. Angus swears the second one rocked the dug out so his mess kit slid right offen the table. Things quieted down after that so we went out finally to see if we could pick up any soovenirs out of the wreck.
Well, Mable, Id have bet anybodies money before I went out that none of those shots had lit more than ten feet away. It took us half an hour tho before we could locate all the holes. When we did they was all about a hundred yards away. The funny part about it was that there was one in front and back an one on each side of the battery.
The Captin came out of his dug-out while we was lookin at them. I guess hed been down there doin some deep thinkin. He looked them over like he was Shylock Homes or somebody. Then he said that was an old Fritz trick to put a shot on all four sides of a battery. Some day when he had lots of amunishun hed split the diference. All I can say is that when he starts splittin Im goin to set a new rekord down these dug out stairs wether Angus is there to ride on or not.
Nothins happened since so weve all been hopin that those was just four old shots that the Germans wanted to get rid of. A truck came in last nite with a lot of bread an a quarter of a cow done up in burlap like summer furniture so everybodies forgot the war in favor of a roast beef dinner.
It certinly is goin to make me laugh, Mable, if I should ever get home an see those sines about bread all done up in tishue paper what aint never touched human hands since the fello that rapped it up. Over here they handle bread like coal only a little rougher not havin any shoots an things.
Our bread comes in round loaves like the French. Its handier to carry an dont bust so easy when it hits things. Ive seen the doboys bore a hole in the middle and sling a loaf over there shoulder with a piece of string like a pair of feel glasse. I suppose theyll be gettin out an order pretty soon about which side your to wear your bread on.
After all Ive eat tho I aint dead yet. Of course thats no permanent health certifikate.
I started this letter early this mornin. Now its almost nite agen. A fello never can get any work done without gettin interupted in the army. I got to quit now cause I was supposed to relieve Marv Motel on gard half an hour ago sos he could get his supper. I guess he wont mind when he finds out weve gone back to gold fish agen.
yours till they split the diference _Bill_
_Dere Mable:_
We fooled the Fritzes by pullin out of that last place before theyd had a chance to split the diference. We came back to this little town for what they call a rest. That word "rest" dont mean the same thing as the one we use. For instance when an oficer comes into the room everybodys supposed to jump up like theyd been sittin on a tack. Then he says "Rest." Youd naturally think he meant lie down an take it easy for an hour or so. All he means is that you dont have to stand like a windo dummie.
An then agen when your standin in line an somebody says "Parade rest." Insted of lyin down in the grass somewhere an takin a smoke you grab hold of your thums an stick one foot in front of the other like those old fotografs of your grandfather in the album.
The worst kind of rest tho is when you get back in a place like this. That means eight hours a day scrubbin guns an drillin an smoothin out horses. If that doesnt seem to set you on your feet you stand gard all nite.
The Bilitin oficer likes this place. Hes got my gun squad in a barn with half the roof shot off an the other half awful undecided. It isnt the part thats gone we mind so much as the part thats left. Id hate to come all this way just to interfere with a brick. Everybody wears there tin derby to bed at nite.
Payday came along this mornin. In the afternoon a couple of doboys came along that had just been paid to. Me an Angus took them on for a friendly game right off the Main street. It was rainin an the wind was blowin cats an dogs but we had most of the doboys money an they didnt seem to want to go till we had it all so nobody minded the wether much. Angus had just passed six times an about all the money we had was bet when there was a swish like a punctured tire an everything seemed to blow up all around.
There is times in this world when you dont stop to figger what nobody owes you. When I looked up agen I could see where it had lit in an old wreck across the street. The next thing I noticed was that the doboys an all the money was gone. We never did find out wether they was blown up or skipped.
Were goin to move out of here now in a day or two. The Captin says were goin to a more active sector.
Yours till you read it in the papers _Bill_
_Dere Mable:_
Were in a new posishun. That sounds like those vawdevel fellos that paint themselves gold an stand on one leg or a hired girl. It aint nothin like that tho. In the army a posishun is anywhere your guns happen to be. Just now ours is in a woods an a couple of feet of mud.
The horses is showin wear to. If theyd done half the work I have theyd be wearin a tin jacket labeled corn Willie long ago. Most of them is so thin you could hang your hat on there hips an there ribs would make a good letter file.
Every horse has got a gas mask tied under his chin. They think there nose bags an pretty near break there necks tryin to get at them. Ive showed my horse his mask open an everything. He doesnt seem to catch on tho. Thats the trouble with these French horses. You cant make them understand.
The Captin sent me back in the woods on a little undertakin job today. Lem Wattles horse had succeeded in dyin after bein at it for two weeks. It was the only thing he ever put any effort in. Just to look at him you wouldnt see what took him so long. That horse just couldnt do anything quick tho. It seems Im always buryin horses. There so darn contrary theyll drag themselves for miles just to die at my feet.
We was sittin on the corps restin a while before we started to work when we heard one of those high powered wash boilers go off back by the guns. A minit later another landed. We postponed the funeral an went back to collect the identificashun tags. One shell had lit right behind my gun an thrown mud all over it. The other had planted itself in a field just outside the woods.
Now we got to pull out of here tonite an go somewhere else like a fello tryin to sleep on a park bench.