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.

[Illustration:  “Coastin”]

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.

[Illustration:  “I’ll bet 5 bucks I go higher than you.”]

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.