Some of the fellos dont seem to get onto the idear of this thing at
all. They think if they talk like they had an egg in there mouth an
put in lots of zs its French. Take Joe Loomis for instance. He talks
like a German thats lived with the French Canadians for a while. Hell
go into a lunch room an say "Geeve me ze beef stak rar, mit ze
on-yon." Then he gets sore when they put the wine list in front of
him.

It aint the wine list that makes him sore of course. He cant get over
the American custom tho of eatin with his meals.

The first three days we was here we didnt have no guns nor horses or
nothin. I thought perhaps the Captin would give us a chance to get
over that rest camp, but he seems to have an idear tho that just so
many of us has got to be killed in the war an the quicker he gets it
over with the better. So every day he walks us about ten killen
meters with the sun hot enuff to boil eggs.

The guns came yesterday. There painted up like a ten cent sunset. They
call them Soizant Cans, whatever kind that is. They look pretty much
in the bean blower class to me. One of those guns we left back in the
States would take care of the four of them. But of course after
polishin those up last winter till I almost wore them out the Captin
had to come off an forget them. I guess now were stuck with these.

No horses came with the guns. I suppose we got to pull them around
ourselves for the rest of the war. I can just here the Captin tellin
Gen. Perishing, "No, no, General. My men havnt got a thing to do.
Outside of a couple of single mounts for the oficers I wont need a