[Letter to Sara, May 27, 1918]

[American YMCA logo, ON ACTIVE SERVICE
WITH THE AMERICAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCE]

May 27 1918

Dear Sara,

I wrote home a couple of days ago and have about as much news now as I 
had then but its all the kind that won't get by.  I'm writing this in a 
building that the YMCA had fixed up, with two writing rooms for the 
men, one for officers and a canteen.  The writing tables are doors laid 
on boxes and the seats are planks laid on other boxes.  There is no 
piano or Victrola, no lights at night- and a sign on the door says 
'Keep under cover' as a hint against hanging around the yard.  The best 
built houses have a habit of caving in, those days, especially if there 
is any signs of life about them.  Whoever lived here, got out in a 
hurry when the Allies fell back, so the Y people just moved into the 
empty house with a truck load of candy, tobacco

(2)
and other things, rigged up a few shelves and a counter and were ready 
for business.  The truck gets around several times in a week but is not 
allowed to travel the main road during the day.  If the boys were 
allowed to buy all they wanted, it would take a couple of trucks to 
keep that canteen supplied but I guess it's a stiff proposition to get 
one truck up here, so only one bar of chocolate and one each of 
cigarrettes, cakes, etc., is allowed, per man, each day.  When the 
A.E.F. gets home again, you will be able to pick them from the others 
in the crowd, by the way they crowd the ice-cream places, and perhaps, 
by their queer table manners.  No wonder, either, after a year or two 
of this simple life.  I wonder how things will be over at the lake, 
next year or the year after or whenever I get there.  It's a waste of 
time, to wonder.
We've had nice weather for so long that it seems odd to read that the 
weather is becoming warm, at home.

(3)
It is certainly a fine country for weather, although the Southerners 
don't appreciate it.  We've had very little rain since November, or 
perhaps it just seems that way, after the steady drizzle of last Fall.  
Had some more letters last night, from you, Bill, Mame and Ellen.  Tell 
Mame I've never met that Sergt. Hurd because he is in the Rainbow 
Division and I don't know where they are.  From the reports, the 
country must be full of U.S. troops and it isn't a little country, 
either.  The 'Stars and Stripes' is always praising that Division, 
probably because of the Guardsmen that are in it, while our Division 
has to be thankful for about two lines that were printed some time ago, 
"American troops are fighting, shoulder to shoulder, with the British 
and French, east of __."  This may look like a wail but it isn't 
because the 1st Engrs. belongs to the first Division to come over, 
first in the trenches, and 

(4)
we hope, first to get home.  Ought to, anyway.  Better not tell all 
this to Mrs. F. because she might not agree.
I suppose I should have written to Bill long ago, but his letter was 
written on hotel stationary as he was away, at that time, and I haven't 
thought to write, since he got back.  Mame's measles and teeth must 
have made an awful combination.  I'm going to have a picnic, someday, 
when my teeth begin.  They've kept quiet too long.
I'm enclosing a piece of cloth from a German airplane that was brought 
down a few days ago.  My tentmate got there in time to get a souvenir.  
They picked the bones clean and then broken the bones.
Well, I've been fooling around for three days on this letter, so 
goodbye for a few days.  Don't forget to cut out the town news column.
Rob.



[Transcribed by Lauren Kanne on 5/27/2009.]