"Same old Bill, eh Mable!" by Edward Streeter (top 5 ebook reader .TXT) 📖

NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1919, by
Frederick A. Stokes Company

PREFACE

The rightful place for a preface is at the end of a book or, better still, the scrap basket. My only reason for setting it here is lest someone read and, misunderstanding, take offense.

Not for one moment has there been any thought of making light of that splendid, almost foolhardy, bravery which has characterized the American soldier. It was he himself who made light of it, as he did of the whole war, and probably would of doomsday.

Nor is there anything unkind or deprecating in his attitude toward the Frenchman. He met a race so distinct from his in ideals and customs that there was no basis for understanding. Failing to understand, he followed his usual rule in such instances and laughed.

One of those veterans of a dozen battles, chancing to glance over these pages, may say that the dangers and horrors of those last five months have been underrated. They, however, belong to a comparatively small and enviable minority. Those who turned the tide in July, 1918, and who knocked the line at St. Mihiel into its proper place in September, also bore the brunt on the Meuse and the dreary mud-spattered monotony of the Army of Occupation. The great mass of the American army saw but a few brief weeks of fighting during October and November. Thousands of other Bills, equally brave and more eager because it was denied them, never heard the sound of guns except on the target range.

This is not a treatise on International Relations. It is not a chronology of battles. It is not a memorial of brave deeds. It is merely a few impressions of Pvt. William Smith, Buck, placed in a situation so new, so incomparable, that it had wiser men than he guessing. He was one of those who left their reasons for being "there" to be analyzed by men not so occupied in the business of keeping alive. He would have been bored to death if you had tried to explain them to him anyway. His loyalty and patriotism were so unquestioned that its discussion was absurd. Sentimental, yet so sensitive to obvious sentimentality that he died many times making fun of the things that he was dying for.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS "Marched till my pack gained a hundred an fifty pounds" "Everybody had a beard on both sides of his face" "Beat the buttons off them with a big board" "Everyone tucks there napkins under there chins" "They just ishued us overseers caps an rapped leggins" "Will have to lean them up agenst something" "Tyin it under your chin like a bib" "Mike Whozis, the Captins orderly" "Ive found the first real use for my tin derby" "Another boiler blew up right in front of us" "Lem Wattles what never had his name in the paper" "Were livin right up in the trenches now" "It doesnt look as if it had ever exploded" "There was the Lootenant boostin the Major out of the trench" "I stuck my head around the bush" "You ought to have seen those two Lootenants come down" "'Do you happen to have any lemonade?'" "Tried to make a blanket roll in six inches of mud" "All I do is scratch, scratch, scratch" "The people here wear wooden shoes an have no shapes" "A German bed is like a loaf of bread thats rose to much" "They take off there hats to us" "Levels it off with a piece of bread" "They lined us all up" "That little snub nosed thing across the street" "Im going to be just plain Mr. Bill Smith" "Same Old Bill, Eh Mable!"

Dere Mable:

Were in sunny France at last. I cant tell you much about it yet on account of its havin been so foggy since we got here. We didnt deboat in Paris as I was expectin. We sailed up a river to a town with a wall around it and got off there. I dont know what the wall was for unless to keep people in. They certinly wouldnt need one to keep anybody out of that place. Were now in what they call a rest camp. If this is restin then all they say about war is true.

For the last two days weve been unpackin boats. You havnt any idear how refreshin it is to pile up about 5 milyon cases of corn Willie. Ive been puttin on weight ever since I got here but its all been on my back.

Some of the fellos think they got us mixed up with one of these Steva Dora regiments. It dont seem to worry the Captin much. Theres no reason it should tho. All he has to do is to sit on a box an keep the quartermaster from gettin over-stocked on cigars.

The day we got in they tied us out in the middle of the river. They left us there so long that there was a roomer the war was over an we was goin to turn around an go home. When it comes to takin that trip right over agen I say on with the war.

We lay around there so long I was beginnin to feel like the keeper of a light ship. Then they got into an awful hurry all of a sudden an piled pretty near the whole boat load onto one coal barge. Our Bilitin oficer met us at the dock. Hed been over here a month gettin things fixed up for us. From the way he acted youd think he was the fello that invented the war.

After that we got out in the country and marched till my pack gained a hundred an fifty pounds an my tung was lyin on my chest. Joe said we needed a rest camp after a hike like that. When wed walked about six miles, or killen meters as they call them over here, we turned into a bare field. The Bilitin oficer said that was the camp.

Just then it started to rain. The Captin told the Top to make us all comfortable. Then he remembered some business in town and went away before he had a chance to hear any first impreshuns about rest camps. The Bilitin oficer must have wore himself out findin us a nice place like this with only a month to do it in. Id like to see what hed turn out if he only had a couple of days. It rained all night. When I get home Ill be able to put in a good night in the swimmin pool of a Turks bath.

The next mornin we started in on intensive restin. We unpacked a whole boat out onto a dock. Then some General came along. I guess he thought we still looked a little peaked. He says "Just run that stuff into the shed across the tracks." The place he called a shed would have made a nice hanger for the New York Central stashun.

They tell me now were not goin right up to the front. We got to go to school agen to learn something. If I had a diploma for every school I been to in the last year my room would look like a dentle parlor.

The French seem glad to see us but they cant express themselves very well. They dont seem to talk the same kind of French the fello learned us in the Y.M.C.A. last winter. There all mixed up on there money too. About the only way a fello can buy anything is to hold out all hes got and let them take what they want. I guess theyll never overcharge me by takin all I can hold out.

The whole sistem is based on the Sue, Mable. As near as I can make out a Sue aint worth anything. A hundred Sues make a Centimeter an a hundred Centimeters make a Frank. Five Franks make a dollar only now they dont. That gives you an idear how simple it is to go into a store an figger what you can buy with a quarter.

I hear the battery comin back so I guess Ill quit this and fall in on the tail of the colyum. It isnt that I wouldnt just as soon have them all know where Ive been, but it makes the Captin feel a lot better to have me there at formashuns.

Yours if I survive the rest
Bill

Dere Mable:

If you ever have to do any travelin in France, walk. I dont suppose you ever took a five day trip in an open trolly. We traveled five days an all the time straight away from the front. First we thought we was goin to Italy but we must have passed that long ago. They finally landed us in a little town with about a hundred people, fifty cows an no pictur show. The more I see of this country the more patriotic I get.

The train we came down on looked like one I had when I was a kid on tracks. You felt somebody ought to get out an wind the engine every time it stopped. Whenever we got to stashuns a lot of fellos in long coats would come out an blow whissels. Sometimes wed start but most of the time nothin happened. At last I found a job for the Top sargent when the war is over.

The cars are marked 1st, 2nd an 3rd class. The difference is that the wheels on the 1st class has only got one flat side. The 2nd class has got two, an the 3rd class wheels are square. We ride in the 3rd class. Luckily the cars has only got four wheels. There so short you couldnt get any more under them if you wanted to.

There freight cars are all Ford models to. On the doors they got painted "Hommes 40 Chevaux 8." Thats French for 40 men an 8 horses. That struck me as funny till I figgered out that they probably pack five men between each horse sos they wont rattle round so much.

Of course nobody could ever collect tickets on a train like this. So they got a saloon in every stashun insted of a ticket office. They make the road pay on those. The first time we stopped Angus got off an bought a bottle of Vinrooge wine. Thats a drink the French use. They must wash in it to cause I havnt seen any water since I been here.

Marv Motel, one of the new fellos in the battery, said if you could get two or three quarts of that under your belt it would act like a couple of bottles of beer an help you to sleep. So at the next stashun Angus got enuff for three quarts apiece.

The Vinrooge wine acted the way Marv said it would only he must have meant two cases of beer insted of two bottles. It put everybody to sleep like an anisthetic but Angus. He kept awake to finish what was left. The last I saw of him he was singin Skotch songs out the windo at the Engineer. One nice thing about these trains is the Top cant get at you between stashuns.

You ought to have seen that bunch the next mornin. It would have been an awful encouragin site for the Kiser. Everybody had a beard on both sides of his face, inside an out an they wasnt talkin any more than was necessary to call somebody something.