an see whats the trouble. Hes an awful nervus fello.

yours till I come off gas gard
_Bill_


_Dere Mable:_

The war is over. Finney le gare. The six inch head lines lost their
job at leven oclock Monday mornin. Its so quiet you can almost hear
it. It sure will be a come down when we have to look at picturs in the
Sunday papers of the Prince of Whales visitin a tooth pick factory an
the flower show at Passadinner.

It wasnt much of an endin to a worlds champeenship scrap. Id always
thought that when they ended wars like this they lined up same as in
the pictur your father has of whats his name surrenderin to
thingumbob at Yorktown. I thought General Fosh would come ridin out on
a big white horse an General Hinderberg on a big black one. Hed hand
Fosh his sord or whissel or whatever it is that Generals carry
nowdays. Then everybody would cheer, the bands would bust out with the
Star Spangled Banner an it would be just like after the fello rides a
bicicle over five elefants in the circus. After that wed hand our guns
over to some museum an go home. Somehow or other it was to big to
peter out the way it did.

We fired off an on Sunday night an then quit when it got daylight.
Most of the fellos were down in the dug outs catchin a little sleep
except for the gards an a few others that was monkeyin around
upstairs. Me an Angus was sittin in a little trench in front of the