I been thinkin of you a lot durin the last weak, Mable, havin nothin
else to do. I been in the hospital with the Bronxitis. I guess I caught
it from Joe Loomis. He comes from there. Id have rote you in bed but I
dropped my fountin pen on the floor an bent it. Im all right now.

I got some news for you, Mable. The cook says we only drew ten days
supply of food last time. He says he guesses when we et that up well go
to France. Hes an awful smart fello the cook. Hes got a bet on that if
the allys dont buck up an win the Germans is comin out ahead. Max
Glucos, a fello in the tent, is refere. Were all eatin as fast as we
can. Perhaps we can eat it all in less than ten days. So maybe well be
gone, Mable, before I rite you from here again.

Theres a French sargent comes round once in a while an says the war is
goin to be over quick. He ought to know cause hes been over there an
seen the whole thing. He smokes cigarets something awful an dont say
much. Thats because the poor cus cant talk much English. It must be
awful not to talk English. Think of not bein able to say nothin all
your life without wavin your arms round an then lookin it up in a
dickshunary.

[Illustration: "HE SMOKES CIGARETS SOMETHING AWFUL"]

I feel so sorry for these fellos that Im studiin French a lot harder sos
theyll have someone to talk to when we get over there. Im readin a book
now thats rote all in French. No English in it anywhere, Mable. A fello
told me that was the only way to talk it good. I dont understand it very
well so far. The only way I kno its French is by the picturs. Some day
Im goin to find out what the name is. Then Im goin to get the English of
it. Those are some picturs. Aint I fierce, Mable? I guess thats why I