Love Letters of a Rookie to Julie Part 2

Camp Wadsworth.

Dere Julie:--

Well, ol' girl, you can see by the heading of this that we have gone south. The plentifullest things down here is "dinges", mules and mud, and you very seldom see one without the other. You know Julie "Birds of a fether gathers no moss"; sumpin like that anyhow; you know Julie I was never much on problems. I see a big lazy dinge yesterday asleep against a corner of the barracks when the bugle blowed the mess call; he woke up in time to hear the last notes; stretching himself and scratching his bed, he said: "Dar she blows, dinner time for white folks, but just 12 o'clock for n.i.g.g.e.rs."

Well Julie, you can bet your Wrigleys and every hair on your bureau, that what Sherman said about war is right; its easy to get in an' hard to get out. Reminds me of the story my ol' man tells about when he lived on a farm (You know Julie dere, I told you my old man was raised on a farm in Brooklin, N.Y.U.S.A.). He stuck his bean into a yoke, to teach a yearling calf to work double, and the way that calf started to hot foot it to the other end of Long Island was some exhibition of speed. He could have give the Empire State express a ten mile start at Peekskill and beat it into Powkeepsy. He yanked my ol' man along so fast that his feet only struck the ground every other mile. If the calf had run around in a circle, my ol' man could have spit in his own face. His coat tail stuck out so straight behind you could have played a game of peaknuckle on it. Finally the o' man got hep that he wasn't gonna be able to break the calf before the calf broke my ol' man's neck so he yelled out, "here we come, dum our fool souls, somebody hed us off." So Julie, see if somebody bobs up who is able and willin to stop this little unpleasentness, let him go to it like a sick kitten to a hot rock.

Member Julie that song we all usto sing comin home on the boat after a picnic at Staten Island of the Patrick Dooley East Side Outing and Chowder Club? You know Julie--The chorus ends with Beans! Beans!

Beans! Say kid, that song would fit in this camp like a hungry tramp at a chicken dinner. Every farmer in the good ol' U.S.A. must have planted nothing but beans for the last two years. We have 'em boiled fer breakfast, baked fer dinner, and in the soup for supper. Every time the Chaplin (not Charlie) says grace, he always "Thanks the Lord for these tokens of his grace," and Skinny got forty-ate hours in the b.o.o.by hatch fer askin me real loud like, so everybody could hear him to "please put some of them tokens on his plate."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Dinner fer white folks, but jest 12 o'clock fer n.i.g.g.e.rs--"]

But all the same Julie I'm glad I'm here. Of course I miss you; as the poet sez "Your brite smile haunts me still." Never will I ferget what a beautiful picture you made the Sunday before I left when I was rowin you round the lake in Central Park. You was settin up in the bough of the boat trailing your lily white hand in the water, and looking up into my eyes you gurgled in a voiced choking with love, emotion and beer, you said, "Wouldn't it be heavenly derie, if we could go floting down life's stream in a boat like this forever and ever"--an' me paying 25c. an hour for the boat. Of course you didn't think of that, did you derie.

Yours until Brooklyn wins another penant,

BARNEY.

Dere Julie:

On land again, thank G.o.d! Comin across we skidded several times and there were occasions when it looked like there wuzn't anything like dry land in the whole world, yet we finally landed on terra cotta, vice versi, or whatever Lattin fraze they use for solid ground.

Believe you me, Julie, I luv a life on the ocean wave like a burlecue soubrette luvs an alarm clock; that is I like it a lot, but not a heluva lot. Fer four hours at a strech I leand over the side of the s.h.i.+p; I wuzn't interested in the ocean or the study of fishes, only I felt I had sumpin I must give up. Finally, after givin up everything, even standin for some of Skinny's jokes, I managed to recover sufficient to enjoy two meals before we got to the dock. Believe you me, derie, you do not know how near you c.u.m to havin to wear black, and cas.h.i.+n in on my life insurance. Speaking of life insurance, reminds me of Skinny's prayer when he turned in one night when it was stormy. "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, If the s.h.i.+p should sink before I wake, Uncle Sam has made a $10,000 mistake."

And speaking of turning in brings up the subject of hammicks; show me a guy who can ride one all nite without being turned out, and I'll back him to ride the best tricky mule that P.T. Bamum ever trained.

About the only way to do, when the nite is ruff, and the s.h.i.+p is rockin, is to sit down and wait until your hammick comes around, and jump on it and choke it into insensibility. I made out to do this better than the balance of the bunch, as I had had more practice, owing to the fact I used to use this method after a nite with the boys; when I got to my street I used to sit down on the curb, and wate fur my house to come round; when it came I used to jump on it and hang on.

Believe you me Julie, that "A life on the ocean wave" may be all rite as a song but its no noise fur a guy who was born and brung up in Longacher square.

Will rite you again as soon as I get my land legs.

Yours until they build another statue to Von Hindenburg.

BARNEY.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I felt as if I had somethin I _must_ give up."]

Dere Julie,

Arrived in London O.K. and wet. London is worse than them that talk about it. When we got uns.h.i.+pped at Liverpool it was rainin cats and dogs, Skinny was worried over getting his new scenery wet, as he had lost his rain coat, on the way over, so he spent all morning in the rain trying to get a new one. Skinny was wetter than I was when I went home after my nightie the nite you had me stay at your house because it was stormin outside. He was so wet the water was runnin offen his rist watch; Skinny wasn't worried about the rist watch as he said it had been soaked many times before.

Well derie, I am glad I enlisted; I am sertainly gettin some experience in this little ol' sc.r.a.p; and will have sumpin to relate to them slackers when I get home to 'lil ol' New York. Skinny asked me did I know what a slacker stood for. I told him I didn't know everything but that most of 'em reminded me of a lemmen marine pie--yellow all thru, and not enuff crust to go over the top. However don't be too hard on 'em Julie, no person is perfect as Mose Jackson said when he was convicted for the 10th time of harvestin other peoples poultry.

The worst thing I haft to lissen to is Skinny talkin about his first wife. He says he used to sit and hold her hand fer hours; maybe he did, and believe you me Julie from other things he said about her, I believe if he'd ever let loose of her hand she would have killed him.

With love, I am

Yours until the Fritzies sing the Marcel Wave on Unter der Linden,

BARNEY.

[Ill.u.s.tration: He wuzn't worried. It had been "soaked" often--]

Dere Julie,

Well ol' dear (you see I've already picked up some London wheezes) a week has flat-wheeled by since you've heard from 'lil brighteyes. Last wensday Skinny and me got a pa.s.s to do the burg, and our pocket books have been at half mast ever since. As we are billeted some distance from Picadilly, we figgered to go downtown in a taxi, rite there our trubbles begun. We asked the pilot of the tin Lizzie what the tax would be and he comes back with, "2 and 6 thankee sir." Can you beat it? Two dollars fer me and six fer Skinny. We hot footed it down and saved that much.

I didn't care much about ridin with him anyhow. I think he was a Jona; anyway he was so cross eyed that if he'd aimed a gun at Berlin he would have shot an eye out of Constantinopel.

We wuz a little nervous account of not being wise to the customs, but Skinny said if we kept our lids down over our ears n.o.body would be wise as to what was going on inside our skulls. The first place we went into was the Palm Tree Inn. All the barkeepers and waiters was "Janes." Most of them wuz pretty good looking; one "Jane" in particular was there with a front. Skinny got one lamp at her and immediately forgot what he joined the army for.

We wondered why it was called Palm Tree Inn cause there wasn't a palm in sight, but when we showed the color of our coin, then everybody in the joint showed us a palm. The people here move slowly, and believe you me Julie a spider slower than a fifth avenoo handsome cab would have a cinch spinnin a web around all of 'em. Skinny says most of 'em has a long line of ancestors; but let me slip you the "info" derie, that some of 'em must be sinkers on the end of the line. I wish that I knowed as much as they think they do.

Yours till someone counts all the flivvers,

BARNEY.

P.S. Tomorrow night, Skinny wants me to go to the Opera with him.

I'm not goin--cause I always sleep better at home. I'd rather here a soubrette dolled up in a costume that would barely pa.s.s the bord of sensers sing a song like "Mother don't bother with the rolls, father's coming with a bun."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Skinny got one lamp at her, and immediately forgot what he joined the army for]

Dere Julie:

These c.o.c.kney birds sure chirp some language. Believe you me, a guy had orto carry an interpreter around with him. Me and Skinny went out to a swell English camp today to take a peep at English trainin methods; outside we sees a tipical Tommy Atkins settin down fixin sumpin wrong with his kicks; as we heaved along side of him, he yells out to us, "I say, ol' top, have ye any lices?" Skinny, thinkin he ment did we have seam squirrels commenced to bawl him out in jig time, telling him there was no such things in the good ol' U.S.A. when he came back with, "Oh, I say ol' top, I didn't mean the lousy lices, I meant shoe lices." What they say over here about these cooties wouldn't look well in print, and makes me think they are harder to get rid of than a flivver.

If there's one thing in life that Skinny loves its sumpin good to eat.

Honestly, Julie, I believe he thinks of eating when he's asleep. We goes into a feedin place yesterday in White Chapel to satisfy what the poets call, an inner longing. I was so hungry my stomak tho't my throat was cut, Skinny slips the female "biscuit shooter" a tip and sez, "Now suggest a good dinner for me;" and she whispered in his listener "Go to some other restaurant." Serves Skinny right about losing the tip for he's such a tight wad that when the company sings "Old Hundred" at chapel Skinny sings the "Ninety and Nine" just to save a cent. Honest Julie, I don't believe he would give two bits to see the statue of Liberty do the hoo-chama-cooch. Speaking of the hoochy-koochy reminds me that we saw the Ol' Curiosity shop that Charlie d.i.c.kens wrote about, and desiring to become acquainted with how much Skinny knowed about books, plays, and etcetery, I asked him did he ever see Oliver Twist? He says "no but I've seen Fatima wiggle." He would miss a point if he sat down on a tack, and it would take a vacc.u.m cleaner to sweep the cob-webs from his noodle; someday I'm gonna hang a peece of c.r.a.pe on his nose, for I think his brain is dead.

That's why I think he always has a cold in his head, as you know Julie that disease always strikes in the weakest spot.

Yours until one of the Kaiser's sons is wounded,

BARNEY.