Original Letter

            France, 27th Feby 1918

My Dearest Mary:–

I have just finished reading your good old letter of the 22nd. It was a bear as usual – but she hadn’t a letter from me that day. It’s a heluva war. The proper arrangement would be for us to have a nice little house with a bomb proof roof a good piece behind the lines. Then I could take a trolley into the war each morning, fight all day and come home to you on the 5.15! There would be rhyme and reason in a war conducted on sane lines like these. As it is now. Six months between visits and letters not arriving regularly  well, when one thinks of it other troubles like not getting chicken but twice a week and getting a dinner with only four courses, seem very small and insignificant. Of course, it isn’t quite so bad as that – you know – I mean the chicken and only four courses but frequently we imagine that we are getting the thin end of things. Right here we are about as comfortable as anybody ever was – we are in a nice park comfortable quarters the weather is warm and generally it is the kind of a place one would like to stay in for a long time. At the same time I know thousands of places I’d prefer but I can only think of one of them now and that is the good little bureau with you. I am mad about your dream of our sitting there until the fire goes out and then going up to our room and – well, I am dizzy thinking of it – that’s all. And I do sympathize with your plight – having those people next door – its tough but – well, I mean to say, I was young once myself and more power to them!

And, Dearest, you mustn’t say that you weren’t nice enough to me when I was on leave, because its an awful lie. You were just grand Sweetheart, of course. You couldn’t be any other way if you tried. You are a beautiful wonderful baby always and I adore you.

Our orchestra – a by-product of the band  is playing in a hut next door – playing all sorts of beautiful music “Let the great big world keep turning” “Pink Lady” “You’ll always be the same sweet baby to me” “Black eyed Susan” They are great but dreadfully unsettling. Music always did make me feel kind of shifty but here it makes me want to throw my hat in the mud and run right off to you bareheaded. But, it would never do in the army. Little lapses of that sort are more or less frowned upon. Yes rather more than less.

Babe is a scream, isn’t she  She is French all right her jokes prove it. “Shockeen”!

Prescott was reading me parts of a letter he had from Halifax – it bears out what Nell writes about the blind. His uncle wrote him – said uncle being an M.O. – and he said that nearly 300 were blind. Its fierce.

Maude’s letter was great and she is threatened with a letter from me. Good old Maude.

Dearest do you know that I am just tingling with love for you? I am – I am quivering with it. You are just the most bestest Sweetheart – the grandest lover this world has ever known.

            Your own