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Love Letters of a Rookie to Julie   By:

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Copyright 1919 by


All rights reserved


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

[Illustration: ME ON GUARD]


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,


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

[Illustration: "How wuz I to know you wuz agin the push button of his bell."]

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... Continue reading book >>

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