idear Im on some kind of a track team cause theres one thing a runner
dont do an thats run. Im not sure yet what the jobs all about myself.
I dont seem to be in the artilery any more an Im not in the doboys.
Mugwump. Thats me all over, Mable.

As far as I can make out the artilery send an oficer up to live with
the infantry an keep the doboy majors mind off the war. He plays stud
poker with him an explains that those shells were Fritzes and not ours
that busted all over his prize company the other day. They dont
believe each other cause nether of them thinks the other fello knows
what hes talkin about so they get along pretty good.

The artilery oficer has two runners with him in case he wants a clean
shirt or something from the battery. Me an Joe Mink just lie around
and wait for something to happen. Nothin ever happens tho so we just
lie around an wait.

Were livin right up in the trenches now, Mable. Right down in them
would be more like it. This idear of comin into the war last certinly
has advantages. Every time I look at all these trenches an holes I
feel sorry for the poor fello what had to dig them. Whoever laid em
out didnt seem to have much idear of where he wanted to go. Most of
them wander around awhile an come back to where they started. All of
them are as crooked as a plummers assistant. If anyone asks you where
a place is around here your safe in sayin right around the corner.

[Illustration: "WERE LIVIN RIGHT UP IN THE TRENCHES NOW"]

Everywhere you step theres a foot of mud an water. If there wasnt so
many corners you could get around better in a canoo. They got