Letters From the Front

Dated:

France, September 11, 1918

Dear Sister Elsie: it is now about 8 p.m. and I've written five letters tonight, so I'm not exactly loafing. The whole bunch will be held up a couple of days until I go to a Y. for envelopes. The dampness ruins the envelopes faster than anything else, and, as luck would have it, everyone is cleaned out of them.

I haven't had an opportunity of seeing Ad. Hastie this year, but, perhaps sometime in the near future I may be in luck. There is nothing harder in the world than to find a man in a Battalion, as you may bump into a new draft man who doesn't know hardly anyone and after asking a few with the same luck you give it up in disgust, but now that he is a sergeant it should be easier.

The fellows have been gathering a great stock of souvenirs these days. I only picked up one, a pair of field glasses, and sold them to our sergeant for 45 francs. Living in the old German dugouts, however, has given us souvenirs of a different variety -- fleas and their ability in biting and jumping have supplied amusement, the fellows backing their favorites in competition for five franc side bets. The big trouble is to catch them.

One of our sergeants was sent down the line today suffering from gas. He was never noted for being around during an offensive, but to hear one of the guys run him down gives me a pain, as he wasn't even in France for two of the offensives and his conduct last fall left much to be desired. However, shortage of wind was never a failure of his.

Your brother,

Watson