Original Letter


                        17th February 1918

My Dearest Maidie:–

Everything is serene along both borders of the Potomac ce soir, for I got my letter. I’ve had some good thrills reading it and I shall have more. I love you, Dearest, – I interject. And you do know everything about babies.

And the Grassal got a partridge. As you say he should be a sniper – that is the life. We have two or three here who are pretty fair. A few days ago there were some Bosche who fancied they could do some peering about with impunity – they don’t any more. Its not a job for a squeamish person – all the better for him.

We are going back in a day or two and I shall be very glad as I am anxious to get cleaned up. I don’t seem to be able to shut my eyes to the dirt as I did before I went on leave and I am most anxious to keep free from the odd toto. Strangely enough I think I am free of them up to date which isn’t bad when one considers that my bed in the first place was a mattress – and a very dirty one. As soon as we get out there will be a very thorough house cleaning. Bobby Forrest is out at the Transport Lines this trip. He had a severe boil in an inconvenient place. Miller and I accordingly have to fend for ourselves but he was a luxury anyway. At the same time I want him back as he was a great help. Rustled water and where we could have a fire he saw that we had it. And in the line when there are just two of us we don’t get any chance to do anything but stay on the job.

Miller is lots of fun and full of pep but we don’t see much of each other – when I come on in the morning he is ready for bed and as a rule I am glad to quit when he comes on at night. It gets kind of dreary for him at night but I swear I never have time to brood much in the day.

Tonight I am soon for bed. I was up at 4.45 this morning – not from choice  and I hone for my pallet.

Do you care if I dodge off now, Dear? Toujours la politesse – she’ll say she does. Sweetheart I adore you to-day. And I want to nestle into your arms and go to sleep – Au revoir, Dearest.

            Your own