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Letters between Sylvester and Eva, July 1918
July 1, 1918
July 8, 1918
July 15, 1918
July 22, 1918
SBButler Letters, July 1918
[July 1, 1918]
Dearest,
Daido and I have just returned from Mays Landing. We had a lovely
time.
We went up on the 3:09 and I went up to Pleasantville first so
as to go around for the mail and to get the tickets but Daido
just caught the train by the skin of her teeth. She had intended
getting a check cashed at Smith's but hadn't had time and on
taking stock of our finances discovered we had just thirty-three
cents between us after carfare.
We wandered up and down the little "jogs" until we
almost reached the park and sat down high on the bank above the
lake and read to one another. We had a book called "Wayfarings"
and liked it very much. At last we went over to the park and
as we were about half starved, even tho we had tried not to be
by eating huckleberries, we extended, by skillful financing,
out thirty-three cents over two sandwiches and one ice cream
cone and we had two cents left besides.
We gathered lots of wayside flowers on the road back and in crossing
a sandy lot found the ground pine out in blossom. I never saw
it in blossom before. The flowers are white and very much like
the snowdrop.
When we went to get our tickets I noticed the girl in the office
and suddenly asked her if she weren't Maurie Henry. She said
yes. I hadn't seen her for at least twelve years but my recognition
of her was not phenomenal as I had heard she was going to work
there. Then I said, "Do you know me? It's been a long long
time since you've seen me." She looked and said my face
was familiar, and then suddenly said "Aren't you Eva Lutz?"
She had a wonderful memory for I had only known her slightly
as I had been up to her cousin's about ten or twelve years ago
and as her cousin had moved away had neither seen nor heard of
either of them since until Gladys Stebbins mentioned her a few
days ago.
The car back was packed with black people and everyone of them
had separate seats and Marie Cavileer and Elphra Harris, who
came up to us while we were at the station, and Daido and I went
out and rode on the tail end of the last car. We pretended it
was an observation train and truly we had lots of fun.
The blue flower I called arrowhead is pickeral weed. I don't
know how I came to make that mistake as it isn't the time of
the year for arrowhead which is a very different sort of flower
and not necessarily at all an aquatic plant as I have found it
along the meadow roads. Pickeral weed grows in the water tho
usually near the edges.
I'm still thinking quite a lot about that cerise outfit.
I love you my sweetheart and I want to make you happy and I will
if it is possible for me to do so, altho sometimes I might be
terrible and make you hoe the garden in the hot sun or get your
own breakfast or observe Kissless Friday.
I love you I do and today isn't Friday s I'll kiss you goodnight,
and another for the sick well arm, and one for hard work, and
one for love, and one for just you my Happiness Boy.
Your Eva.
Camp Devens
Mon. eve. July 1/18.
Dearest Lady,
I bought a flat iron today. Isn't that interesting news? If I
had room to carry it around wherever I went, now, I could get
a good ironing board made. I'll have to do something along that
line pretty soon or I won't be able to go around without a coat,
all my shirts being so crinkly, and this is too hot for coats
perpetually. But it seems as though ironing must be a great art;
I don't see how it can be done and done so well; any more than
I can understand the inextricable mazes of knitting, crocheting,
and so on. About the same time I got the iron I bought 6 packages
of Lux so you can see I'm going right into this laundering business.
Don't you think I have a trusting nature to let my future wife
know how much experience I'm giving myself, along these handy-man-around-the-house
lines.
I finally got my sleeping bag double mattress today, which is
very fine & comfortable. With that I Am now completely equipped
except for a field glass.
The fur flew as per schedule this morning. With that out of my
system the day passed quite serenely, though chock-a-block full.
I presume the notification of her husband's arrival overseas
your friend Mrs. D. got was the "safe arrival" card,
as it's known. They have them at the port of embarkation and
the men can fill them out before sailing but they are not released
from the mails until news is received by cable at the port that
the ship has arrived safely at a European port. And letters mailed
just before sailing are taken care of in the same way.
Now, if we were only at home to each other at present, I could
have a lovely job for you - namely to sew little patches with
my name on to all my clothes. It would be very useful service,
even though not as alluring a hobby as making sweaters. I think
I'd agree to do the family washing for a week, if you would perform
said service. Dexterity is not my middle name by a far cry, when
it comes to sewing, except buttons, at which I shall have to
admit that I am little short of a wizard.
Well, haven't I said just about enough about myself tonight?
There must be about 10, 968 more interesting things to write
about. But sleepiness is making the ability to do so any more
for this time.
I love you, dearest sweetheart. I hope everything is going along
happily.
Your Sylvester.
[July 2, 1918]
Dearest,
I have been canning all evening. I have twelve pints of beautiful
raspberries. They certainly do look beautiful. The jam lady loaned
me one of her immense kettles and racks and everything to go
with it when she found I had so many to do - also she gave me
some advice which was needed as much as the kettle.
I have never gotten the flowers that your Aunt Lucy sent but
the mails certainly are funny lately anyway.
I'm just wondering if we are to get 4th of July off. I think
we should. It is to be a no noise day in Pleasantville. Poor
boys! I think they look forward to the noise almost as much as
they do Christmas.
So, I'm to cure you of eating between meals, am I. I hardly like
to take very strenuous efforts as "people who live in glass
houses" you know but then I could say "Do as I say,
not as I do." That might work. You say you think you need
a boss. Now I can't make up my mind whether I want to be one
or whether I'll be perverse and not be.
Dorcas was around for a tiny bit tonight. She has actually gotten
a card now that he sent from France.
She was up to see her brother at camp Dix yesterday. They had
about fifty blow outs and arrived home about 2 a.m.
It is very pretty late my sweetheart and I have to get up early
and finish my canning so I'll kiss you good night.
Eva.
Camp Devens
Tues. eve. July 2, 1918
My Eva,
I've just been looking at you. In fact, you are double. You are
up on the wall over the right of my table, holding a cat, and
you have been holding that cat for a month & a half. You
are in a little gilt frame on my desk and have been holding for
it must be two years a checkered book. You smiled at me from
both; I took the smiles for myself anyway. For I am very selfish
when it is a question of your smiles. They just bathe everything
around with light and happiness.
So you are getting set on a cerise traveling dress are you? Then
I guess nothing will do but to have it rain all thru our wedding
trip, and never go indoors. Or else some morning you'll find
it all pasted up with 3 cent postage stamps for variation. [note
- three cent postage stamps at the time were his favorite lavender
color] And you would hate to have me get blinded by the cerise
and accidentally throw a whole ink bottle over it, wouldn't you?
[another note - I think it is safe to assume that he didn't care
for red]
We have a rolling kitchen in the Supply Train this week, which
the various companies of the Train are using different days for
practice. It is quite good sized, in two parts, each almost 5
x 4 ft., I should say, a pair of wheels under easc, and the two
parts connected. Under the rear is a place to make the fire,
a good big fire box, and over that four compartments, two setting
into water and used for stews & braised beef and food of
that character; the other two you can set water boilers in or
frying slabs. It can cook anything I guess. The front part has
a place for pans & other utensils and also a fireless cooking
arrangement. We are using wood for fuel in them here, but I am
told that oil is burnt more over across.
These used to be days of great expectancy when I was youthful,
for I had probably bought all my fireworks. It was the greatest
day of the year without exception and for at least a month before
I counted the days to the Fourth. But it won't even be a holiday
for me or our organization this year, as we have received orders
that there is to be an inspection here. We are quite fed up on
inspections. The most tedious thing in the Army, to me. How I
used to hate the first few Saturday inspections at Plattsburg
!
Did you ever see a mackerel sky, made up of a whole school of
real mackerel? That's what I discovered in the eastern sky this
morning. It really did look like several fish lined up side of
one another. Mackerel skies are favorite cloud formations. I
don't know but what a lace sky would be a more appropriate name.
Good night, dear girl. Bless you for all you are to me, and the
happiness you bring me and will bring me; perhaps just now I
should say the happiness you send me every day. I love you, Lady.
Your Sylvester.
Good morning, my Beautiful Lady. This is just a morning made
for you, coolish and fresh and sunshiny.
I love you.
Your sweetheart.
[postmarked 7am, July 3, 1918]
Dearest,
If I should take that bossing position, I'm considering, shall
I follow the way you've been trying to tell me you bossed Sunday?
I hope you were very tactful when you discovered anything wrong
in inspection and didn't hurt the men's feelings in the least.
I hope, if you discovered a mess kit a little bit soiled you
said, "I wanted to see if my hat was on straight but it's
impossible in this," or "Mercy, I thot I was an ace
of spades when I looked in that." I'm sure they would get
the full benefit of your remarks. If a man needed mending you
might commend him for being holy. I hope you didn't scold that
poor man who did Serg. Schoonmaker's work very much, seems to
me the extra work was enough. When Serg. Schoonmaker comes in
I'd just ask him politely if he didn't think he'd better save
his superfluous nerve for use in France as it probably would
be put to better advantage there.
/ insolence . . . . . sand
| impertinence
\ grit
Words you might use in place of the one that's slang, Nerve,
none of them quite so good, however.
Of course, if such situations confronted me, I wouldn't growl.
Enough silliness. I have been up to Dorcas' own home with her
tonight. Their garden being the main attraction. George, her
brother, planted it before he went away to camp and it's just
wonderful now. I brought back a monster bunch of nasturtiums
and baby breath. [note - a dried nasturtium and baby breath is
still in letter.]
I have the Fourth off. That's a s'prise and a welcome one. I
asked about it yesterday. I s'pose Daido and I will have a picnic.
Oh goodness I wish you could go places with us. Sometimes I feel
Oh if I could only touch you just to know that everything is
real. It doesn't seem possible some times.
Manny and her sister expect to come over and spend Saturday night
and we are going to get up about four o'clock Sunday morning
and go out after black berries and huckleberries. Won't that
be glorious?
Daido expect to leave for Michigan about Friday then I'll be
all alone.
Miss Davis started to work today and doesn't get home until about
6:30 which makes us have dinner very late.
Well my sweetheart I'll kiss you good night for I love you.
Eva.
Merry Sunshine says, "good morning" so I'll pass it
on to you.
Me.
[postmarked July 3, 1918, p.m.]
Dearest,
Our for-get-me-nots are getting ready to blossom again, I believe.
Won't that be lovely? The marguerites haven't blossomed yet and
I hardly see any signs but it is early for them, yet, isn't it?
My bumper radish crop has been a failure and I'm so sorry if
you have gotten thin waiting for it, but never mind, one of my
four potato plants has a blossom on it and maybe I'll send you
a jar of jelly.
Please send an aeroplane at once and you'll see how quickly I'll
come up to spend an evening helping to run Uncle Sam's army -
providing, of course, you are there to direct me, but, no, I
just won't come. The idea of being spattered in the eye with
grapefruit and entertained with ugle-ugle - I just guess not.
Do you know what happened to Penrod when he started in to learn
that Ugle ugle. His mother tho't he was sick and he had to take
lots of medicine until he contrived to put water and mud in the
bottle. You better be careful!
Goodness! I use lux for washing, too, so you needn't think it's
something personal to the army. I iron too - (not very nicely
tho.)
You seemed to think it was wonderful to get up before breakfast,
or at least you mentioned the fact in your last letter. Why,
do you know, I do that every day.
I am going to write a little note to Ralph this morning. I wrote
to your Mother yesterday.
Some one upset my nest and broke two of the eggs. Wasn't that
awful?
I send you my love and a medicine kiss - tho you don't need it.
Your sweetheart.
Camp Devens
July 3, 1918. Wed. eve.
Dearest Sweetheart,
The mails have not been good to me today, but I know the post
office is very much rushed up here.
This is most unlike the night before the Fourth, a night once
of great excitement and anticipation, but I'm sure I don't know
a thing tomorrow which I anticipate. One thing, though, and I
must never say there isn't a thing for there is always my sweetheart's
letter. Did I ever tell you about my pre-Fourth night in the
church belfry next to our house. I was old enough to be much
more dignified, too, but I'll say this much for myself, it was
six years ago. I think I've probably told you of it more than
once. Ralph and another chap & myself sneaked into the church
and up to the belfry and disconnected the rope from the bell
so that the usual crowd of boys couldn't ring the bell. Just
before they were let in to ring it we started in, and accompanied
the ringing by firing torpedoes from the top of the belfry down
to the sidewalk & lighting sparklers around the edge of the
top of the belfry. The mob decided they wanted to get us and
crowded up the stairs, but we got a double brace on the trap
door and refused to let anyone up, even though they pretended
to be town constable & one thing or another. We heard them
using all kinds of tools & didn't know what they had in store
for us. And we waited until about 3:30 a.m. before we ventured
down and then found the trap door chained to the stairs. It was
some little job to pull up the trap door and when it did come
one stair came with it. We'd have been in a fine pickle if the
staircase had fallen down. We got downstairs and I got out of
a window into a tree, over into our yard, got a ladder to bring
the other two out; And was on my way over when the sexton, who
had been watchman all night spied me. It didn't make much difference,
for there was nothing for him to be put out about, but we were
anxious to go thru the whole operation without a soul ever knowing
who we were. Very few ever did, and I guess it was a couple of
years afterward before any of the folks except Uncle Bill knew
it. Uncle Bill was in on the game and sat outside his room with
a flashlight to signal us.
I have felt very much like a celebration tonight, perhaps just
as undignified as the six year ago one. To enact the great Sing-Sing
scare would be just suited to my humor at present, or do some
equally foolish thing. I have thrown a watermelon rind or two
around, and decorated Pop's room with them for life-preservers,
and enacted a little impromptu foolishness with Pop, he with
a canvas bucket on for a hat & me a basin. But that was hardly
enough to give full vent to my wild promptings. A couple of generous
portions of watermelon, a muskmelon, and a grapefruit have about
soothed me however, and I hope to be sane again by morning. For
this will surely be a sane Fourth. I trust also a safe one. I
suppose you have a holiday and I am wondering what you will be
doing.
Good night, dear girl, and love without and for you.
Your Sylvester.
Mornin', Lady. Wish you a merry Xmas. Goo' bye. I love you.
Sylvester.
[started July 3, finished July 4, 1918]
Dearest Sylvester,
I have my sweater almost _ done. Isn't that just wonderful?
Marian Campbell has been around all evening and Daido and she
and I took a meadow walk and we got a bunch of the most wonderful
butterfly weed. It is yellow and red and orange so we have massed
it and called it our fireplace. It is in the window now and if
you only had spy glasses I'm sure you could see it.
We also got some wild buckwheat, some prickly lettuce, some campion
and skullcaps. Weren't the gods good to us?
Has Lucinthia gone to New York yet?
Dorcas did not come around tonight as George was home from camp
and naturally he was more important.
I'll save the rest for the morning, my sweetheart - that is all
except a kiss.
Eva.
"Happy Fourth of July. What you goin' to give me?"
That was Miss Davis' greeting this morning. I do wish you'd say
you'd give me a kiss and proceed to do so. I believe I'd even
forgive you one ugle-ugle if you did.
Today is the Fourth, the glorious fourth but hushed is the noise
of yesterday and only the flags in the breezes play. We have
a ban on fire crackers. Poor kiddies shooting fire crackers is
most as good as Christmas to them and equally looked forward
to but I think even they realize the reason.
I saw Jennie Bowen last night and she told me George was down
in Florida. Her brother was teasing and said she hadn't been
out of the house since George went away. Of course, when I saw
her last night she denied that.
Well, my sweetheart, I think I'll close as I have bushels of
work to do.
Two kisses. Eva.
Camp Devens
Thurs. eve. July 4.
Dearest Eva,
This has been just plain July 4, not the Fourth of July, surely
as far as I am concerned. There was scarcely anything in my young
life to make it any different from any other day.
In the morning we hustled around to have everything ready for
the Inspector and when he did come he was well pleased with the
showing the Train made. All afternoon and evening I've been sort
of cleaning house in the house.
A corporal from Co. B yesterday was killed in a railroad accident.
Somebody had a grudge against me and made me chairman of a board
of three officers to investigate into & report on his death.
Anderson has gone down to Willimantic , Conn. where his body
is being held, today, to collect evidence, and when he gets back
tomorrow, I hope we can clean up the case without a great deal
of red tape. We know very little about how it occurred at the
present time. The chap was absent without leave, so his death
was not in line of duty and his folks will collect no compensation.
I think one letter has missed me, for I was from day before yesterday
afternoon to today afternoon without one, and there is none for
the evening of the first, but there is for the 2nd.
The nasturtium and the baby breath went well together. I've been
a long time away from any kind of garden. If I remember rightly,
it is a little early for the margueritas. I hope they do bloom,
for I think you will like them.
Good night, dear girl. I'm so sleepy I could almost pass out
for the night sitting in my chair. With all my love,
Sylvester
Bon jour, ma belle dame! I learnt that out of a book some 7 or
8 years ago.
Anyway, good morning, sweetheart and hope it's a good day. But
days after holidays, according to popular fancy, are usually
not, I believe.
I love you, Eva.
Sylvester
printed return address is Sea Crest Inn, Cape
May City, N.J.
[July 4, 1918]
Dear
Daido and I are down at "Seacrest." We decided to come
down at 1:30 and are going to stay over night.
Harold and I have been out on the beach flying his kite all afternoon.
We had a dandy time.
This evening we all went to Convention Hall to see a military
ball. It was some affair. I met a man there I knew. Lieutenant
Davis. We wanted to get particulars about the terrible fire that
broke out in the barracks this morning while the boys were on
parade and destroyed everything but the Y.M.C.A. and the dispensary.
So we questioned him altho I am not particularly fond of him
or his wife either but a strange face is usually welcome.
The fire is believed, in fact it is known, to have been of incendiary
origin. Several of the boys were nearly burned to death as they
were asleep inside and the whole thing went off almost at once
and when nearly everyone was away. There are aeroplanes guarding
the coast all the time and armed guards parade up and down the
walk continually at night and have been doing so ever since the
German submarines came in here. It is real exciting. Nearly every
man to be seen is either a soldier or a sailor and, my sweetheart,
it makes me so lonesome. I do wish I could see you, and sometimes
have you here in Cape May with the quaint old southern buildings
dotting the landscape at intervals and the musing musical sea
and the sky and the sunsets. I love them and I love you, my sweetheart,
my only sweetheart who says he's going to throw ink on my going
away dress.
Good night dearest and a kiss for I love you.
Eva.
Camp Devens
Fri. eve. July 5, 1918.
Dearest Eva,
I have just returned from a little dissipation. Pop and Luty
Taylor and Deck Spaulding & the Doc and I went over to Fitchburg
in the Dodge right after supper and took in the movies, getting
back at Taps, which shows it wasn't such a terribly wild party.
It was a wild ride both ways, though, for Pop was driving the
old machine at full blast; and the roads were slippery with recent
oiling and the series of sprinkles the sky has given them during
the day. However we are back safe and sound. I enjoyed the ride
and the little relief from work, but the pictures were a waste
of time, as most all motion picture melodramas and pretended-to-be-problem
plays. Between a couple of the fool pictures some local gazabo
made a four minute flowery, more-or-less meaningless oration,
of the Village Green Fourth of July type, and during the course
had to say something about the "boys" in the front
of the audience waiting their turn to get into the fight; when
you get applying "boy" to Pop's venerable grey hairs
and 37 years, its stretching a point a bit. Also to the average
modest and self-respecting soldier being pointed out in an audience
in that a-way isn't overly agreeable. I hope the well-meaning
gentleman didn't get the snickers and pokes going around among
us, for he must have thought us unappreciative if he did so.
My cousin up in Lowell has been after me to come up again ever
since Ralph and I went up a month or so ago. I made a sort of
half-promise for this week-end some time since, but he has taken
it as a full one, & sure enough, I got a letter this week
wanting me to spend from Sat. afternoon to Monday there. But
nothing doing. If I could take that much time off, there's somewhere
else I'd go in a different direction, and somewhat farther away.
What I think I shall do is to run up for Saturday evening and
come back the first thing Sunday morning. Then I'll have him
satisfied for awhile, I hope. All this sounds terrible, I expect.
They are pleasant people, and I am not unappreciative of their
desire to open their home to me, & be hospitable, but I'm
not at all inclined to visiting at present.
I paid off the men of the Train for the month of June today,
and went thru another $8000. That seems a lot for one small outfit.
If that much is required for a little organization of less than
500 - and the amount of money given does not include officers,
for they are paid by check individually on bills they send in
for their services - think what a tremendous amount goes each
month to pay all the soldiers of our monster army. It seems marvelous
what strides the U.S.A. has made since early spring, especially
in the vastly increased shipments of troops; from a rate of less
than 50,000 a month thru the winter up to 250,000 in June is
no small jump. And a million men now over there! Every news item
from France & England shows how much this is bolstering up
their confidence; and with what enthusiasm the French and the
English speak of our soldiers! I wish I could have seen the Fourth
of July celebration in London or Paris. In Paris I sense that
it was an expression of exuberance & ardent enthusiasm -
maybe gratitude - still I don't believe it's right for me to
say that, for we surely owe France as much as she us. In England
it must have been a little different; the English are not the
demonstrative people that the French are. The feeling of any
American toward England's celebration of our anniversary of independence
from her, must be a deep satisfaction - not of the exultant,
crowy kind, because she celebrates a defeat at our hands - but
a quiet joy that the two great peoples are fighting side by side
& coming every day closer to each other in our great common
cause. That's the feeling it gives me. There is little difference
in our cause against England in the Revolution, and our cause
with her against the Kaiser and the military leaders of Germany.
First a fight against tyranny over ourselves, when we were small,
now partners in a fight against attempted world-wide tyranny
and brutal methods adopted to obtain it.
You know I am extremely fond of canned raspberries and you for
certain make my mouth water when you tell about canning them.
I'm going to remember that you make nice canned raspberries when
the time you call nineteen years from now, but from which I subtract
about eighteen, comes.
The missing letter arrived today so I have no break in my Sweetheart
Set.
Lucinthia hasn't gone to New York yet. I believe she's not scheduled
to go until about the 14th.
It doesn't seem possible that your friend could have gotten a
card from her husband from France thus soon, though perhaps more
time has gone by than I realize. I wonder if perhaps it isn't
one of those "safe arrival" cards I spoke of which
are signed & left just before sailing & released to the
mails when it is known the ship has reached the other side. I'm
going to leave one each for you and Mother when I finally get
going.
After midnight, sweetheart of mine. So long for now and a good
night kiss.
I love you.
Your Sylvester.
[July 5, 1918]
Dearest,
I haven't been to work all day.
We didn't get back from Cape May 'til this and I had asked for
the morning off and then finished it by calling up and asking
for the day.
I have been working pretty hard.
Daido is going tomorrow. I feel so lonely. We haven't really
been away from one another for a long, long time.
Here are some washing and ironing hints.
Put a little coal oil or lard in the starch as things will iron
easier.
Sprinkle clothes evenly with warn water, roll tightly and wrap
bundle in towel or something heavy.
Don't press down too hard with iron. The idea is not to get the
wrinkles out by main force but by getting the clothes dry.
Much depends on the sprinkling be careful.
Good night dearest, I love you.
Eva.
I still love you - more than ever ever.
Your Me.
Sat. eve. July 6, 1918
Sweetheart,
I am writing from Lowell tonight. Cousin James keeps early hours
and I am up here in his guest room at ten. He keeps a guest book
in the room dating back to about 1906. Aunt Lucy's name is in
the book somewhere along about 1908. I got up here just before
supper, and gave them the usual worry people have over me because
I declined the string beans and the salad. After supper we took
a walk up the hill on which their house is located. It is very
steep, high, and large; and from the top you can see for miles
and miles in all directions. It was a bit hazy tonight on account
of the humidity but the view was most grand under and conditions.
The only trouble with it is that it is known as christian hill,
because some Holy Jumpers or somebody used to hold camp meetings
on it. I was playing the piano a bit after getting back but made
an absolute fizzle of my old standby, the Dvorak Humoresque in
a place I have never forgotten it before; I tried & tried
but could not bring the notes at that place back to my memory
or my finger-tips. When I got thru fizzling at the piano, the
Victrola records were run thru. They have a fine selection. I
wonder if we ought not to have a Victrola as well as a piano,
dear heart, if we could. I should like to, for then part of the
time I could sit and listen to music with you. Perhaps we could
make a record of our own with you singing The Door to Out of
Doors to my accompaniment. Our home surely must have music of
some kind.
I am going back to Camp Devens early in the morning, probably
by trolley, though I don't enjoy the prospect. Leviseur drove
me up this afternoon as it's on his way to his home. I was hoping
to have the Dodge to bring up but Pop had a use for it himself
this weekend. He's gone down to Boston to see the publisher of
that book; there is a little trouble brewing with a chap who
says a book of his was copied into it. A part of his book, which
was very small, was used but it wasn't copied word for word by
any means. But it shows how careless Major Schoonmaker was in
clearing himself on copyrights. I took it on myself a couple
of times to utter a gentle warning hint or two, but he always
said everything was taken care of. I'm a little more glad all
the time that my name isn't in the book. You spoke once of my
being famous thru it - I might have been uncomfortably famous
and Fame might have charged me a few months' salaries for disgruntled
persons who said we were stealing their thunder.
The Savages have a little vase of bitter-sweet on top of their
book-case. What memories hath bitter-sweet!
Good night, best Sunshine Lady. Love, and more love, and still
more. A good night kiss.
Sylvester.
[July 6, 1918]
Dearest,
Daido has gone and I'm so lonesome.
We went over to Atlantic this afternoon and had a last lunch
together.
She went on the 4:55.
I hardly know what to do. It seems so strange not to have her
with me. I wish you were here.
I haven't done a thing all day today.
I can't write an interesting letter at all tonight but please
forgive me this time won't you sweetheart because I just feel
so lonely without you and Daido.
I love you. Eva.
[July 7, 1918]
Dearest Sweetheart, my own Sweetheart. Please excuse that
perfectly horrible letter I wrote last night but I couldn't help
it. I just felt so utterly alone. I like to be with someone I
love and someone who loves me. Daido wanted me to go with her
and I wanted to but I knew that if you did get a chance to come
see me you never would way out there and I'd rather see you than
anything in the world.
Today has been rather a varied day. Mannie came over late last
night and stayed all night. We went after black and huckleberries
and got about five quarts of each. We stayed up until 12:30 last
night making fudge and generally having a good time as we sewed
and knit in the early part of the evening and naturally had to
have some sort of relaxation.
We got up at six this morning and went as it was cooler then.
The sun came up strong about ten and nearly melted us. Mannie
said she'll have nothing more to do with blackberries or huckleberries
all her life unless some one else picks them.
Today was my cooking day so most of my afternoon was spent in
getting dinner.
Tonight little Frances Boice came and paid me a visit and I let
her play with my Betty doll and, please forgive me, our tea set.
I just tho't I'd like to see them used and she's so sweet. I'm
an awful baby I believe because I just love to play with children
and dolls and dishes. I gave her lots of goods for doll dresses
but, of course, we couldn't make any today as it was Sunday.
Children dream wonderful dreams.
Sometimes when I hear a car come in I think Oh what if it should
be bringing me my sweetheart and sometimes I hear a step on the
walk and I feel like running I just feel it might be he.
I haven't you here but sometimes I just feel that you are here,
I can just , Oh I love you Good night
Eva your sweetheart.
Camp Devens
July 7, 1918. Sunday noon
Dearest,
An extra, for love.
I got a jitney back from Lowell this morning which was somewhat
better than the extremely unanticipated trolley ride, except
for some of my fellow passengers, who were carrying on a foolish
conversation about Lowell being a "slow town", and
Fitchburg worse, and a few other equally erudite remarks; and
one young woman, as the car passed one of the barracks with a
sign on the front painted by some wit, asked her companion "Ain't
they the happy-go-lucky bunch?" which, you must admit, is
a most scintillating and admirably expressed comment. Their two
gentleman friends showed no signs of disagreeing with them at
any rate.
Lieut. & Mrs. Fox went out rowing this morning and got a
beautiful bunch of pond lilies, and brought them up here for
the dining room, but four of them for me. I wonder if they wouldn't
keep if I sent you half of them in a little box. They are lovely
& fragrant and I wish you could see them just as they are.
I wish you weren't so far away, my girlie, anyway. I certainly
would have liked to have shown you around the camp, if you only
had not lived so far away & could have visited it, many times
since I've been here. I think you would like to see just how
I'm located & living, & then besides it's interesting,
anyway, to the visitor. It seems strange to think that when I'm
writing you of it, I have a picture of it gained from seeing
it, but you with only what I've written in words have only an
imaginative picture, entirely different from mine. Did that idea
ever strike you? I often think of it. I might be with you and
say "Tuesday I must go back to Camp Devens" - it means
the same thing to both of us, but I have a momentary mental vision
of the camp as I know it, and you can only get what your imagination
& someone else's description can give you, but you have some
sort of a momentary picture, I imagine, and somewhat different
than mine. You write me that you are down at Cape May, flying
kites on the beach - I see some sort of a beach & a building
which goes for Sea Crest Inn, I have a picture of it as I read
your letter, but how different it probably is from the original,
which you have an accurate picture of, every time you might think
of it. There are some things that are too big for my imagination
- such as the 3000 miles of ocean I have ahead of me when I go
to France. My mind absolutely cannot grasp the idea of such limitless
bound of water; I'll have to actually travel it, and then for
having experienced it, so that an actual perception is registered
in my mind, I presumably can think of it very readily. Europe
is nothing but a map to me now; when I think of Europe, I think
of the map, for that is all I ever saw of it; now when I have
seen it actually it will be a flesh & blood place. Our own
West is little more than a map now, but some happy day I'll have
a different picture of that, at the same time you are. It's facinating,
don't you think, to visit a place you have had described to you
often and of which your imagination has conjured up pictures,
and see how it squares up with your imagination.
I had a surprise visit just before noon from a lady who was Mr.
Winch's sister. She lives down in Clinton, half-way between here
& Worcester. I think her name is Wallace; there was a Mr.
Wallace with her and I couldn't quite make out whether she was
his wife or another lady who was with them was. Mrs. Winch had
told them to look me up whenever they came up here. It's always
good to get a reminder of Pleasantville. There was another lady
with them who I think was her daughter, who told me that she
mailed my Christmas package to me for you from Atlantic last
winter - at least she said she mailed it for a very nice young
lady, & I didn't get any others from Pleasantville. I think
I remember your telling me that some niece of Mrs. Winch's mailed
your package for you. I asked these people in to dinner but they
didn't stop.
Now I must get a little work done, and I'll write you more tonight,
dear.
Always your own Boy.
Camp Devens
Sun. eve. July 7, 1918.
My own Dear Lady,
I feel particularly caged in tonight. I have been in these barracks
so much since I came back in May that I feel almost as though
I had become walled in, were being pressed down & confined.
Just now I wish I might fly, about 350 miles a minute to you,
my beautiful Lady. That would bring me there in just a minute.
Then wouldn't you be almost glad enough to see me to light the
fireplace just where we had it before? Then we would sit down
and watch it again as of old - it's almost "of old"
now, it seems so long ago; it seems as if we'd always been sweethearts.
I'm afraid I'd want to stay late because I haven't see you for
such a long time, and because I'd have to be back here by reveille;
you see I could start just a minute before. I don't know whether
you'd find me very good company or not; mind-weariness might
make me a dull creature; but you with your enchanting sunshine
would drive all that away. Just to have you with me makes life
complete; and there is always a great big blank spot without
you.
Thank you for the washing and ironing hints. I won't ever use
any starch, so I shan't have a chance to try out the coal oil
or lard, but the sprinkling & ironing directions I am going
to follow most religiously. I expect to try to do some ironing
tomorrow, for I have bought an old fashioned flat iron, and learned
of a stunt tonight which seems to be quite practical - a rolled
up blanket on a board for ironing. While I'm here I'll have it
on my table. I don't know why that wouldn't work out to perfection.
I washed a light shirt today so it's absolutely necessary that
I start action on the ironing question.
I sent you the pond lilies this afternoon in an empty card file
box. I had to crowd them a bit but I do hope they will keep some
of their fragrance for you, my darling. I sent the half of my
bunch, and then Cookie (the cook, if you don't know Cookie) gave
me a few more of the other bunch that the Fox's brought for the
dining room. He said they gave them to him and so he could do
what he wanted with them.
I don't know whether you'll be at all interested in the sheet
I am enclosing. It's just something I got out this week &
had 1000 copies made of for each man in the train to fill out
in duplicate, one to be mailed to his nearest relative, the other
to be kept. They are not to be mailed now but kept in company
files & when we do go they will be placed in the mail bag
at the ship & released to the mails when we are safely over.
I am going to have these take the place of safe arrival cards
for our organization, I just decided yesterday. So I won't be
sending you one of those cards, but I shall of course drop a
letter there which will answer the same purpose. These sheets
are something I've had in mind to get out for quite awhile. I
know that there would be hundreds of people who wouldn't know
how to collect insurance due them or compensation in case of
the death of a soldier on whom they were dependent, & who
had taken out government insurance in their behalf, & on
whose account they would be entitled to compensation; there would
be a number who wouldn't even know they were entitled to it.
The government has done splendidly in providing ahead for soldiers'
dependents and I want to be sure that the dependents of every
soldier in this organization know what they are entitled to,
and how to get it, if necessary. The intricacies of allotments,
allowances, compensation, & insurance have been thoroughly
explained to the soldiers but I know well that there's any number
who haven't made perfect explanations to their folks; I've aimed
to get it in black & white on this sheet and in as simple
language as I could use. I hope it will serve its purpose.
Eva, dear, I've been just afraid that when I did go that you
would think I wasn't doing the right thing if I didn't let you
know. I've been afraid you might think "Well, Dorcas' husband
let her know, why didn't Sylvester let me know?" For there
are strict orders in this Division, - to tell you the truth,
in every one, - against giving out any information as to troop
movements. It seems hard, hard indeed, that our soldiers must
most all go over unknown to their people; we should all like
them to know just where we are all the time and perhaps like
to be able to go out to the sound of drums & music, as of
old; but it can't be done. An order is an order, and a soldier's
first duty is obedience. There will be a little time my letters
are held up, and then the letter will be released which marks
my safe arrival. And then soon more ought to come.
On that circular you will find my overseas address, when I get
there. Remember, do not under any circumstances write me, addressing
it there, until you receive word of my safe arrival.
I wish Capt. June would get back with the Dodge. I'm sitting
up for him & its now midnight & there's an errand it's
got to go on in an hour and a half. I guess I'll have to fool
him & sleep all morning. I guess not.
Oceans of love, dearest One, and a good night kiss from
Your Sweetheart.
Mornin' dear; a beautiful morning, and anything beautiful makes
me think of you.
Sylvester.
[July 8, 1918]
Dearest,
Its rather late to say good morning. I have been wondering if
I sent you a letter the first mail in the morning whether or
not it would reach you at night. Wouldn't it be wonderful if
you could know what I was thinking on the very day I'm thinking
it? I sent one off in the first mail this morning.
I love you.
Manny's mother just called up and said Manny was sick today.
I guess she had too much berrying. I'm sorry.
Miss Davis wants us to rent a room to Miss Taylor (the Miss Taylor)
to lessen expenses. I don't want to but lessening expenses seems
to be her strong point. She wanted to use paper napkins and no
table cloth but I said "NO." I want Bricktop to be
homelike and it can't if you are going to take away all the comforts.
It only costs ten cents a week to have a clean table cloth and
two napkins.
Are you working hard? I hope you are not working too hard.
I love ["you" is seen very faintly here]. I bet you
never can guess what I erased. I'll give you an extra kiss if
you do. You know I've come to the conclusion that one kiss a
day is enough and if I write to you twice a day I can't make
up my mind whether I'd like to kiss you good night or good morning
better. I like to kiss you in the morning because then we begin
the day right and I like to kiss you good night because then
I'm leaving you for a long time. It really is quite a problem
because I love you. If I didn't love you I suppose it wouldn't
make any difference and I could just toss up a coin and decide
but I can't do that and I must decide soon so we'll be used to
it.
I don't suppose kissing is exceedingly proper anyway. Is it?
Would you mind much if I didn't send you any kisses?
I haven't been writing many "don't open" notes lately
as I don't seem to be able to get any ideas - not that all I
have sent have ideas but I don't want to send anything too commonplace.
How many have you?
I am going to start and number my letters too as the mails are
getting so terrible.
I love you
Eva.
Camp Devens
Mon. eve. July 8/18
Dearest Eva,
I intended to do ironing this evening with the blanket-on-the-table
stunt, and my directions open before me - you know what directions
I mean, those from Miss E.A.B.C.P.Q.R. Lutz's Helpful Hints to
Near Housekeepers. My intentions have not materialized, however,
and I surely decline to begin at ten. It is no fault of the Helpful
Hints, I assure you. That will be comforting, I know.
I went and say Corp. Johnson at the Base Hospital this morning.
He is still in bed & I guess his troubles are not all over
yet. The plates were taken out of his leg a couple of days ago,
which means temporarily no use of it at all. But I hope it will
heal quickly & that he isn't going to be permanently crippled.
The broken leg is a half inch shorter than the other now; if
it doesn't get any more so it shouldn't I think be a very great
annoyance. He has surely had a siege of it, and I think I should
be plumb out of my head by this time, if I had to be confined
so long, unless you just came to me and took care of me all the
time. You don't know how perfectly happy I was, dear girl, when
you were with me that little while in the hospital.
I've just this minute been looking at my Sunshine Lady Box. It's
all there, and Curl says you love me. I've been looking at a
verse here & a verse there as it struck my fancy, and the
pictures I have of my lassie. I happened to read again the verse
about somebody loving you, which you said you wrote after receiving
a particularly nice letter. I am wildly curious to know what
one it may have been. I also happened on the Fairy Garden at
Hemlock Manor and the Fireplace poem in my original collection,
and have peeked into the brown Christmas book you sent me last
winter. It is very quiet here tonight, and being after Taps is
a quiet hour anyway, and is just the time to live over old happiness
again and feel the inspiration of You. I have memories of all
the times I've been with you since the night of the Apple Blossom
- and many other things, but the Apple Blossom is the visible
memory I have of it, and you remember how I asked you to pick
it off, and I would keep it forever. It has another memory now,
too, hasn't it, for you hallowed it with a kiss on the night
we wrote Together.
I would give worlds that I might kiss you good night now, my
darling sweetheart, and hear your dear voice tell me you loved
me. Anyway I have the curl, and the precious message with it.
Good night, dear.
Your Sylvester.
Morning
Just a wee line to begin the day with You. I love you, Eva.
Sylvester
[July 8, 1918 eve.]
Dearest,
Today it has been very warm.
I got two letters and a letter full of postal cards from Daido.
One was mailed in Philadelphia and the other two in Buffalo.
She has not arrived in Ann Arbor yet.
I was up to Dorcas' a while tonight. I mean up to her own mother's.
She came down and we walked up after dinner and got another bunch
of those beautiful nasturtiums. We were going to Red Cross but
didn't.
It's cloudy this evening. I rather think it will rain and hope
so for it certainly is needed.
I'm coming up to see you pretty soon. I have the butterfly engaged
that is to bring me. He's a monster one with lovely purple velvet
wings. You can expect me most any time now.
It is rather late my sweetheart so I'll kiss you good night.
I love you.
Eva.
I still love you.
Dear Boy - Just guess I will call you boy if I want to.
Good morning.
Just look what wished me good morning when I got up this morning.
I asked her if she wouldn't like to wish my sweetheart good morning
so here she is. I love you.
Eva.
[post marked 6pm, July 9, 1918]
Dearest,
I'm all excited. I'm a letter out again. I got a letter this
morning saying "I have sent you my water lilies," but
I don't know anything 'bout where they came from but if they
are yours that is sufficient.
I could have told you all about that blanket stunt for ironing,
having employed it for some time. You usually need newspapers
under it to make it softer and something over it like muslin
or linen as blankets burn so easily.
I wish I could write to you when you are overseas but I won't
if you don't want me to for I know you would like to have me
but I mean don't think it wise. Dorcas has been writing to Harry
right along. She got a real letter from him Saturday that she
thinks was mailed in England but, of course, she can't tell as
there was no post mark or anything on it. You'll have my "Don't
opens" anyway and maybe they will be a little comfort. I'll
write to you every day anyway even if I don't send them. Dorcas
and Alberta Adams Stephanson write every day but only mail their
letters every other day as they say only a certain amount of
mail is allowed to go out and the boats don't go out every day
and their husbands wouldn't get a letter every day anyway so
they don't mail them every day.
I kissed you good morning this morning because my morning glory
said I should but I wasn't going to tell you about it, however.
I changed my mind because I tho't you might like to know you
got an extra kiss which was given because my morning glory requested
it and I was lonesome and tho't maybe you were too.
I found the "Ode to the Sailor Boy" that we found up
at Hemlock Manor. Queer isn't it but when I think of Hemlock
Manor I usually think of you. Didn't we have happy times there?
Our last time was the best time for that was the first real time
when we actually knew we belonged to one another. I can't really
seem to think back to the time when we weren't each others, tho.
I like to look forward to the long, long time we will be one
anothers and we'll come to Hemlock Manor and will go to English
Creek and we'll race (walking) up the Sunset Trail again and
we'll do lots of happy things and I'll muss your curls, if I
want to.
When we do go on our honeymoon let's don't travel. Let's just
go camping or something just way away. I think that would be
much nicer than visiting or traveling and then too I could have
you all to myself and I could scold you or anything without being
heard. Oh I'd just love it way away on some lake with you and
the moon and the wind and some whip-poor-wills, of course, and
we could boat and you could teach me to swim or if it were winter
we could ice boat and skate and gun. Oh I know we'd be happy.
If you promise me we'll do this perhaps I'll be kind too and
reduce the time to 18 years 364 days 23 hours 59 minutes and
60 seconds. I really, really do wish that is what we would do.
I think thats what I'll do on mine. Would you go along if I invited
you?
I love you Your sweetheart.
Camp Devens
Tues. eve. July 9/18.
Dearest,
I am gradually completing my laundry outfit. Tonight I got 15
clothes pins. It's just occured to me however that I haven't
a reguler clothes line to pin the clothes on to. That's the practical
housekeeper for you. Still I can get along with doubled-up ordinary
twine, as before.
You were wondering if you mailed a letter the first thing in
the morning I could get it the same day. Sorry to say, the trains
couldn't travel fast enough for that. The letter you mailed the
first thing Monday morning came the last mail this (Tuesday)
afternoon, and the letter you mailed at noon Monday came at the
same time. It would be lovely, sweetheart, to know what you were
thinking the same day you were thinking it. But I guess it can't
be done just yet. I wonder if that aerial mail wouldn't do it.
I know how lonesome Miss Tolbert's going so far away must make
you, and am sorry for you that it is so. Perhaps you have told
me, but I don't seem to remember just what it is she went out
to Michigan for - summer school at the University at Ann Arbor,
was it? I presume she will be back in about two months. And has
she accepted the principalship in the Pleasantville High School
yet? I surely don't blame you for not being crazy over having
Miss Taylor in your home. She is just about as impossible as
they are made. Of course if she kept shut up in her room and
you didn't have to feed her and she didn't go near the garden,
it might not be quite so bad. But I hope Miss Davis will forget
about it. I know things won't seem the same at Bricktop without
Miss Tolbert, and perhaps sometimes not so perfectly agreeable,
but I know you will be patient, and realize that everything couldn't
be absolutely perfect.
You asked me how many "Don't Open" notes I had. I report,
Miss Lutz, that I have twelve (12) of the aforementioned documents.
You don't need to number them, though, dear, for I have done
that on each one as it came. You have done well by me, dear,
so much better than I by you. I'm afraid the five or six I have
sent you will be common place as compared with those you have
sent me. I am surely looking forward to them. And think, I have
enough for I'm sure one every two days before your letters start
arriving across, perhaps a little oftener. The first one will
be opened the first night on the steamer, sometime when Capt.
June isn't looking. He and I are going to have a state-room together.
He has a watchful eye, though, and I suppose it won't be long
before I'll hear, "What you got there, Butsie? Is that the
little girl I took down to see the trucks?" or something
like that. He likes to tell me how he ran off with my girl when
I was sick in hospital and couldn't defend myself. I think it
was no less than three times, once when I was in the hospital,
and a couple of times since, he has started telling about it
and explained carefully how he thought I wouldn't care if he
took a little time to drive my mother & my girl around the
trucks we were going to have, and how he thought you would probably
be interested, & so on. He's a great Pop. And especially
so when he's telling the same thing over to you the 6th or 7th
time. Sometimes I'll listen just as though it were the first
time, and sometimes very casually say "Oh, yes, you were
speaking about that this morning" & so on. He's a lovable
old Devil, and I think a great deal of him. And he is the source
of a great deal of amusement, partly from things he starts for
the fun of it, and partly from little oddities. A phrase of his
"I'll be back in half an hour" is a classic one among
us; for the half-hour is very frequently stretched considerably.
The first time I remember it is when he went off one afternoon
and asked Travers to wait around, and he'd be back in half an
hour; he appeared for dinner the next day, and Travers was still
waiting.
It's time to say good-night. I have been hoping for the opportunity
just to see you for a few hours at least once again, and am still
hoping, but opportunity has up to now been elusive. I hope so
much that everything will go allright with you. Don't forget
I love you every minute. And when I come back to get you, I don't
believe I'll ever want to let you out of my sight, for sheer
joy.
Good night, dearest girl. I love you.
Sylvester.
[postmarked July 10, 1918, 7am]
Dearest,
Miss Davis is out someplace and I've been sewing and knitting
and now for a little chat with you.
First. I love you. Second. I never felt less like writing and
more like seeing you than tonight. Goodness but I'm lonesome.
Eva.
Dearest sweetheart
I just couldn't write last night. I just felt blue.
Eva
Dearest,
I forgot to say "Good morning." I've been ironing and
only burned myself three times. I hope you have better luck.
I've been up since 5 o'clock. I believe I even beat you today.
Miss Taylor isn't coming and I think Miss Davis is a little angry.
I am anxiously looking forward to my water lilies.
The extra letter came late yesterday afternoon. They said at
the post office the morning mail didn't come in until then.
I love you.
Your sweetheart.
Camp Devens
July 10, 1918 Wed. eve.
Dearest,
Late this evening I took a little time and had a successful,
oh, tremendously successful ironing. One more step toward being
an experienced model husband. I think if I get sufficient experience
in the housekeeping duties of an approved husband you might knock
off a few of those 19 years, make it 17 years, 6 mos. & 19
days, for instance. Even then I'll probably be carrying an ear
drum around with me, & be approaching an absent-minded dotage.
I have come to a momentous decision this evening. Namely that
I shall keep a personal cash account no longer. That it's a waste
of time when it never comes out straight, and that if I can't
keep it straight in dollars how I can ever hope to do so in francs.
Won't I have a beautiful time managing our first pay-roll in
francs if that is what troops are paid in in France? Anybody
whose first name is Frank is in luck, because probably I'll see
that and accidentally give him another one. At any rate I hope
I have impressed you with the momentousness of the cash account
decision for it abolishes a custom of nine years' standing; old
enough to be a tradition. It's useless at present. I'll let you
keep the pantry cash account for our house. Won't you be grateful
to me for that? I knew you would. I'll double your gratitude
by letting you do it in algebra. I don't know, though. The only
algebra problem you ever did for me, since you were my star Senior
pupil in the same, had a multiplication result & an addition
sign if I remember correctly. However that problem, also if I
remember rightly, was a puzzle picture - "find the x's".
A thing happened today I have feared for a long time. I guess
I spoke about it last time it came near occurring - Deck Spaulding's
fiery temper getting him in trouble with Pop. Pop does sort of
get at Deck more than any one else in his fooling, and Deck will
only stand just so much fooling before his temper begins to get
away with him. He's not good at taking a joke. And when his ire
is aroused he doesn't care who the person is, and his indiscretions
almost got him into serious trouble a couple of months ago in
connection with a medical captain he raised a row with. Pop lied
for him and got him out of that. Today Pop & Andy had hid
something on him, which he had to have for an inspection; Pop
made some remark about getting Deck on the carpet if he didn't
have the ammunition. Deck the whole thing seriously and began
to take Pop to task for the missing ammunition, allowing as how
it was one of his tricks again. There were enlisted men around
and Pop didn't want any scene and said he didn't want Deck to
say that, how could he think of hiding his ammunition, &c.
Deck flew up & 'lowed as how he knew he had & would say
so as much as he pleased. Pop threatened to confine him to quarters
if he kept up & wouldn't shut up. Deck followed with "I
won't shut up" & Pop made his threat good. It's so everlastingly
disagreeable to have anything like that take place. Deck has
apologized, however, & it's all fixed now. But he will surely
get himself into trouble someday, though I sincerely hope not.
Good night to you, sweetheart. A good night kiss, and love forever.
Your Sweetheart.
Morning
The morning glory you sent just bid me good morning for you.
It wouldn't say a word when the letter first came yesterday afternoon.
It's my color, too, isn't it? I love you, Lady.
Sylvester.
[postmarked July 11, 1918, 9am]
My dearest,
Our water lilies came this afternoon and two of them are actually
fresh and I think they will open tomorrow. I think they must
be your two, but you may thank your cook for me even if his were
slightly dead.
I didn't get a letter all day today but one came in the mail
tonight and I was so glad. I think I'll have to look for gray
hairs tonight.
I got a lovely letter from your mother today. She wants me to
come up and spend my vacation with her. I think I would like
to have her down here tho if I thot I could manage things so
I wouldn't be disgraced forever. I surely have to remember to
dust the fireplace and do a lot more necessary things that I
often let slide. I think I shall ask her next time I write. Don't
you think she would enjoy it and I could probably give her a
happy time when I didn't have anything else to do. Has she ever
been down this way?
I've been making a dress all evening. I am getting to be a good
machinist (I mean I am learning to sew nicely on the sewing machine).
I am quite busy up at work now but I still manage to find time
to use an hour.
I got a short note from Daido just sending me her address in
Ann Arbor. She said she had just arrived and was too tired to
write.
Good night my Sweetheart. I love you and here are just lots of
kisses.
Eva.
Morning dearest, It is just a lovely morning but goodness I'm
sleepy. I didn't go to bed until after eleven. I still love you.
Your ("Me" written in and crossed out) I P.S. Here's
an extra kiss as I wanted to add a post script. ("Me"
written in and crossed out again) I again. Might as well be grammatical.
[postmarked July 11, 1918 12 MN]
Dearest,
Do you know I just rather believe I'd like you not to read my
"Don't Open's" in order, that is all except the two
I numbered, as they are not supposed to be in sequence and probably
they would be too much alike if you read them day by day. I think
you just better take them by chance. DO you know I tho't I had
sent about three times twelve.
Daido has gone out to Ann Arbor to Summer School and has not
accepted the principalship, in fact, she resigned but I think
they want her badly and I forwarded a letter from the board of
education to her yesterday.
Dearest,
I'm writing some more. I wrote some more "Don't Opens"
too. You know when I send several in one letter that doesn't
mean they should all be read at once.
You forgot to add good morning to your Tuesday night letter.
I missed it. Think of it, that a letter arrived the first thing
this morning. Wasn't that lovely? It arrived almost the same
day.
We are certainly having nice weather but it is hurting the farmers
as they need rain very badly. I wish it would rain as so much
depends on our food crops this year.
If you do come down do you know what I'll do, I'll treat you
to some of my raspberries. I just believe you'll come now. I'll
let you eat just as many as you want to, and I'll be awful good.
I love you my sweetheart, Your Eva.
Dearest, I think the "Don't Opens" you sent today should
be #7. I'll look at noon.
Love & Kisses
Eva.
Camp Devens
Thurs. eve. July 11/18.
Dearest,
It has just started in for quite a pour of rain, and it was only
fifteen minutes ago I saw the new moon. Quite kaleidoscopic,
eh wot? I wish it would keep on raining, except I'd like to have
it miss the leaks in the roof, for I haven't heard rain on the
roof for a long time.
I got a barrelful of letters today and all from you, sweetheart.
Two in the morning and two in the afternoon. That beats the record.
One was a delayed one but the rest all were on schedule time.
I am glad for the poem you wrote me about the whip-poor-wills,
the other sounds of our last Hemlock Manor night and Love's Old
Sweet Song, which was THE song in our hearts, which will always
be. The poem will go with my specials. Think how much I have
to fill a gap when perhaps I haven't gotten a batch of your letters
for a week or so. Here's one person you have given a great deal
of happiness. It is so wonderful to know there is someone you
love, who loves you, and is thinking about you and doing things
for your sake & to make you happy.
Now about that 3 cents, please Eva, I'm broke as a church mouse
just now and could you get along without that three cents for
about 19 years, or the little shorter time you have given me.
Really that time won't be so long, for according to my count,
about 18 of those 19 years have gone by already. It seems so.
Eva, my darling, you are to have the kind of honeymoon you want.
We shall find a place to go way away, only you're not to scold
if I do, and that seems to be one strong reason you want to.
However I'll be magnanimous and forgive you. Perhaps I don't
blame you. You plan it all out, dear, while I'm gone and I'll
find the place to carry out your plan when I get back. It won't
take me very long. I can't think of anything which would be happier.
Now don't forget, it's up to you to make all the plans, &
have 'em ready. I hope when I do start back, you and the folks
can know it in time to come and meet me. From that moment on
I just won't ever want to let you out of my sight.
Eva, you completely misunderstood me in regard to writing me
overseas. I can't understand how you got the idea that I said
not to write me. How could you think I would suddenly spring
that, after speaking many times of looking forward so much to
that first batch of letters I would get, without a word of explanation
as to changing? And what in the name of common sense did you
think I was giving you an address for, if it weren't to use?
And telling you about giving it to all the men to send to their
homes, only I'm not letting them send it yet? Now - here it is
in black and white - write me, write me, for goodness sake, write
me and, I don't believe anything could be gained by holding up
a letter till every other day, either. Write me, just as soon
as you have word I am overseas, and be sure every envelope reads
like this
_____________________________________________________
| Have your | |
|name & | |
|address here | |
|__________ | |
| |
| Capt. S. B. Butler |
| 301st Supply Train |
| American Expeditionary Forces |
| |
|____________________________________________________|
Of course you may write "Sylvester" instead of the
plain "S". Now be very careful not to make a mistake
on that, won't you dear? The only thing I said about not writing
was not to write to the overseas address until you knew I was
overseas. Keep sending to the 301st Supply Train, Camp Devens,
Mass until then. I'm sure I've explained that lots of times.
Please read this very carefully, sweetheart, and be sure you
have it straight. You must have thought me most unreasonable
and kill-joyish. I just came near scolding you for being careless
and not half-reading my letters telling you about the overseas
address, or at least for not reading it over again to see if
you weren't wrong in getting that funny idea into your head about
not writing at all. Now, please, write, write, and write. You
must know how much letters will mean to me over there.
I didn't really scold you above, did I? For I didn't mean to,
you being my sweetheart and doing so much to make me happy.
The rain has stopped and I am dead tired and it's time for little
chilluns who are only 2nd chilluns to be in bed. I love you,
my darling. I'm unmeasurably happy that you love me. Good night,
dear heart, and three kisses (not the 3 cent substitutes) - oh,
please pardon such frivolity right at the end!
Your sweetheart.
Morning's here and I'm here, and I wish you were. Good morning,
anyway, and perhaps the second robin who's to tell you I love
you has just about arrived. Oceans of love, my own Lady.
Sylvester
[postmarked July 12, 1918, 7 am]
Dearest,
Here I am again. I might almost say yet.
Miss Davis and I went to see the parade and hear Secretary Daniels
speak and Shaumen Heinch (spelling) sing but we were too late
for them all as they actually happened on time.
I got a letter from your Aunt Lucy and she says she has sent
me some flowers.
Look dearest, isn't it about time for forget-me-nots to go to
sleep? A few days ago ours looked so fresh I thot it was actually
going to blossom again and now it has gradually died and died.
Your picture arrived tonight sweetheart and it is just like you.
It is so clear and good. I certainly do like it.
Good night sweetheart and a goodnight kiss. I love you.
Eva.
Good morning sweetheart and a good morning kiss. Goodness I'm
sleepy. The Elks started going over the Boulevard about 2 a.m.
and I guess all of them sang all the way so I guess no one along
here got much sleep.
I got a lovely letter from Daido. She is settled in a room in
the home of one of the Latin professors. She says Ann Arbor is
beautiful.
We are having a wonderful down rise this morning. The sun is
round and red and entirely separated from the glow which appears
to be running along the tops of a chain of mountains high above
the sun.
I must get breakfast ready, dearest. I love you.
Eva.
Camp Devens
Fri. eve. 12/18
Dear Sweetheart,
With all the Don't Opens I received today you are surely way
ahead of me. I shall do as you say and pick them out by chance,
and pay no attention to the numbers. There is really no sequence
to mine either and take them by chance if you want to. Would
you like to have me blind-fold myself each time I'm going to
draw one out?
Do you have raspberries out in your Bricktop garden? Or is it
the raspberry jam you are offering to treat me to? I surely love
raspberry jam, and any you made I would love doubly. With the
experience you are giving yourself in making things this summer,
I know I'm going to have the finest little (big, I mean) housekeeper
in the world. I love to think of that time when to go home will
mean to go home to you, and we shall plan & live and be supremely
happy together. Oh, Eva, my darling girlie!
I am sorry to have missed giving you that one "Good morning",
sweetheart. As I remember it now, I accidentally sealed it up
and put it in the mail box the night before.
It would surely please me very much to have Mother pay you a
visit. It is hard as can be to get her to leave home at all;
many's the time we have tried & tried to get her to go somewhere
& take a little rest, but she would feel she couldn't leave
the responsibilities of the house; but now that she doesn't have
so much to look after, I hope she will feel she can get away
more.
But I do hope you can go up to see Mother & Lucinthia, too,
some of your vacation, at least. It would make me very happy
if you did. You would get a chance to go down to Cromwell and
see the Us gardens and perhaps send me a little sprig of our
forget-me-not. And Mother would be happy to have you; especially
for the break it would give her in the lonesomeness she will
be bound to feel with all of us away, even Lucinthia, except
for occasional weekends. I just happened to think, the daughters
in the Butler family now outnumber the sons; Ralph and I would
certainly be at a disadvantage now in a quarrel over women's
rights or something of that nature.
I just want to speak again about being sure to write me when
I'm across. I wrote about it last night, but was afraid it might
be just my luck to have the letter go astray, and what would
I do without your letters. When I spoke a week or so ago of not
writing to my overseas address until you knew I was safely there,
you misunderstood me to say not to write me at all over there.
I should say I do want you to, and there is nothing unwise in
doing so after it is known I am across. It will surely mean a
great deal to hear from my precious lady when I'm so far away.
I am sending you a picture of the Review of June 19, which I
probably described to you at that time. I never knew there was
such a picture until a day or two ago I found them in a store
downtown and I thought perhaps you might be interested to see
it; for it shows the entire 76th Division, 27,000 strong, lined
up on the parade ground; it is a good picture of a part of the
camp, really the best picture I know of, I think, to give you
some idea of the cantonment. Of course you've seen pictures of
lots of others, so I don't suppose there is much of anything
new about it, all the cantonments being built on substantially
the same plan. The picture was taken before the troops had passed
in review; they had here just been formed & gotten into place;
the 301st Supply Train is approximately where I have indicated
with an (X) over on the extreme left. After the troops were formed
each separate organization marched by the reviewing stand (indicated
by an R, about right center of picture).
The buildings shown are of course only a part, really a small
part, of the cantonment. The ones shown are those occupied by
the 301st & 302nd Infantry Regiments, and a few of the 301st
Engineer & Depot Brigade buildings are up on the left. The
Supply Train buildings do not show. They are off beyond the left
of the picture. I have painted an arrow down toward a flag (right
of picture), which marks the headquarters of the 76th Division
and of the cantonment. That is where I drive up every day to
Adjutants' Meeting in the office of the Division Adjutant.
Possibly some times you wonder or I haven't clearly defined to
you what I mean by being Adjutant of the 301st Supply Train.
Each regiment or separate organization, (such as a Supply Train)
has its Commanding Officer over the whole regiment or organization;
in the case of a regiment, the Commanding Officer is a Colonel,
in the case of a Supply Train he is supposed to be a Major which
Captain June will be very shortly if everything comes around
right. Similarly each regiment or separate organization has its
Adjutant, who is usually a Captain; I suppose he might be called
a sort of secretary to the Commanding Officer, although I don't
believe that describes it very well. For one thing, the Adjutant
is in charge of the administrative work of Headquarters, sees
to the issuing of all orders, and in general superintends the
clerical work of his organization Headquarters; in the Supply
Train he is commander of that small Headquarters Co. which supplies
the office clerks &c., & which you learned by heart one
day. The Adjutant is the go-between between the Commanding Officer
and his superiors & his subordinates. On parade if there
are orders to be given to any of the companies, it is the Adjutant
who gives them, at the direction of the Commanding Officer, and
in action he would perform a similar function. In our case here
it could be called also assistant to the Commanding Officer -
Capt. June. I don't know how clear that is; perhaps it doesn't
sound like a day's work, but I can truthfully say it is.
I remember when I was the sales manager's assistant in that New
Britain cutlery factory, people would ask me just what I did,
and I found it awfully hard to explain, till sometimes I thought
I was just a fake & didn't fill any real place. I would hate
to be doing anything where I didn't feel I was filling a real
need, nor was of recognized service to my organization, or whatever
it was.
I guess it's pretty near time to say good night, can almost say
good morning. I love you, dear sweetheart. A good night kiss.
Your Sylvester.
Morning, Lady of Mine, this is Saturday, and there ain't no school
so hasn't we better go on a picnic? My, but don't I wish I could!
We could take along some raspberry jam sandwiches and jordan
almonds and we could go anywhere you said. My imagination can
carry me to lots of nice places, but I won't be able to tell
about them now, for the day's work bids me hurry.
Good-bye. Lots of love, and a kiss to start the day right.
Sylvester.
[postmarked July 13, 1918, 7am]
Dearest,
We had a colored woman come and do some cleaning for us today
and really she is a jewel. She fixed everything exactly as one
would like to have it fixed if he only had the time and her charges
were reasonable. You can't imagine how much of the burden of
housework she took away.
I didn't get a letter from Daido today but I got one yesterday
and she is taking Spanish as a main subject and several others.
She says Ann Arbor is wonderful.
I will write more in the morning sweetheart. I love you and a
goodnight kiss.
Eva.
Good morning
I forgot to get up. I love you.
Eva.
[postmarked July 13, 1918, 6pm]
Goodness, dearest, I always knew I was to write you when you
were overseas. I don't know what I could have said that made
you think otherwise. I might have meant something about not writing
you until I got your safe arrival. Didn't I say I knew you would
like to have a letter waiting for you when you arrived but as
you said I shouldn't write until I heard you arrived I wouldn't?
That is what I meant to say.
I have been quite busy all day today. I have been ironing and
sewing all afternoon, except when I went up at 2:30 to get a
letter from you, and I did, too. I just sorta looked up at the
station, too, pretendin' you just might have been coming and
on that train. You weren't on it tho.
Now about that 3 cent matter. I have already wasted 6 or 9 cents
in stamps trying to collect but as it seems that is impossible
I will let the matter drop for about 19 years but then I shall
demand interest both on it and the value of time and money spent
in the effort to collect it.
I got a box of flowers from our garden this morning. They weren't
very fresh but they are ours. "Ours" goodness that
means a lot. I am going to write to your Aunt Lucy in the morning
and thank her for them. It was lovely of her, I think.
I tho't we were going to have a nice rain come to us today but
we didn't. Everything is so dead looking everywhere. It makes
me worry because I wanted us to have a wonderful harvest this
year. The farmers say tho the lack of excessive heat makes it
better than might be expected but a good many of them are worried
too.
I love you and I want to make you happy. I'm going to take a
hundred kisses now, as part payment on the interest on the 3
cents.
I love you.
Eva.
Camp Devens
Sat. eve. July 13/18.
Dearest,
This is the first time, I think, that I ever wrote you in pencil.
I am doing it so I can make a carbon copy, as I am going to send
two separate letters just alike, in case one should be lost.
As you will see, I'm anxious that you should get it.
I don't really know how to say it, darling, but I am going before
half this next week is out. I can't tell a thing more, though
of course I know just when we're to arrive at the ship and what
port we're to sail from. It was I who got the order from camp
headquarters, hot off the wires from the Port of Embarkation,
and I have it tucked away in my portfolio, the only copy of the
telegram in the 301st Supply Train. It has seemed as though I
must tell you this little bit, and not leave you in such absolute
uncertainty, when my letters inevitably stopped coming for a
little while. So long as I write no details, actual time, place,
&c, it is a question whether I am violating any orders, but
you will notice I am sending these letters from Nashua, N.H.
& not Camp Devens. That is to forestall any possible opening
of the letter at the camp post office & holding it up. This
little information isn't a bit more than the officers' families
who live near here know, I'm positive. For instance, Greene &
Travers have had their wives up in Harvard, all the time they've
been here & of course giving up their house & sending
their wives home means nothing else but moving. So this is perfectly
proper for me to write you, I believe, though I am taking the
precaution of mailing it in Nashua. A few of us have been invited
to go up there just for dinner tomorrow, with Spaulding, at his
home there. It's not very far away, & of course now we could
not be away from camp for more than a very few hours.
This week-end I had had hopes, high hopes, of getting off to
see you just a little while. But this has dished it all. So I
have nothing but to make the best of it, though my heart just
aches to see my precious lady. I know, too, that you have been
expecting me soon, and it makes me feel badly to disappoint you.
And when I got among my letters yesterday or day before a little
note how you would rather see me than anything in the world,
perhaps I didn't have one big heart-pull, 'cause I had rather
see you and be with you than anything in the world, my sweetheart,
and I had just learned a day before that I had got to wait quite
a while. But cheer up, I must say to both of us, it won't be
long; they are just waiting for the 301st Supply Train &
the 76th Division in general to be the last straw to break the
German line. Today's newspapers show the beginning of it, wouldn't
you think; probably old Hindenburg suffered his last stroke because
he learned Capt. S. B. Butler was getting ready to start. He
may not like school teachers or a person who is proficient in
the gentle art of ugle-ugling.
Of course I am plentifully busy in the final preparations of
the Train for its Big Move. I hope the Train is going to acquit
itself well over there, and be a credit to Capt. June & the
rest of us who are working with him. And my own part in the Big
Muss-up, I hope my Lady can take pride in it. Perhaps it will
be never recorded as more than "Service honest & faithful".
It won't be less than that. To have a hand and lend a real help
in the great battle for right which is being fought over there,
has been the goal of a great desire since my country got in on
the right side, and now it is to be realized. It is a great deal
later than I first expected I would go, but I believe that the
way everything has gone has really let me be of greater service,
surely given me greater opportunity. To be a company commander
& have a company all to myself is something I never expected
to have, as I said all fall & winter of course; & if
I had not been sent to the Supply Train I never would have, for
a long time at least. And now, by our being here a long time,
& long enough for Major Schoonmaker to go, I have had the
even larger opportunity of being the right hand man of the commanding
officer, and assisting in planning for running a whole organization
with him. I feel that I have been very fortunate. I stand rather
in awe of unknown responsibilities & new problems which will
present themselves no doubt, in France, or wherever we go. They
will be a much stricter test of manhood and ability than anything
I have yet coped with, I know.
I am glad you liked the picture. I just had two made, one for
you & one for Mother, at the time last month when I had my
picture taken for the War Department. I was just conceited enough
to want you to have one with the Captain's bars on. It was the
surprise I mentioned a while ago was coming, and your telling
me of its arrival was the first I knew the photographer had finally
got it off. When I ordered it I had it sent direct to you &
to Mother in case I shouldn't be here.
I am writing Mother a little note too, tonight with the same
little bit of information. She has been expecting me to go for
a month back, and every letter would wonder whether I were still
here or not, but it wasn't from anything I ever said. It would
be best, dear, not to mention in any letter to me that you had
received this one. I haven't any idea your letters would ever
be opened, but it's just an extra precaution. It might be suspected
that I had given out unauthorized information when I haven't.
I don't believe there has any one been much more careful than
I. Remember keep on writing me, at Devens until you hear of my
arrival on the other side & then begin to use my overseas
address.
I am glad to go; there are many thrills in the prospect. It seems
hardly possible to believe we are really going. An ocean voyage
& Europe are new experiences, though this is no specially
conducted tour, I guess. Because I am glad to go doesn't mean
I shan't miss you, dearest; (Well, I should say not !) It means
I am glad, as I ought to be, to get doing my bit. The supremely
glad day is coming when we shall all come back, and I to you.
And you shall be waiting for me, with your dear sunshine for
my happiness. And I shan't know what to do, I shall be so transcendently
happy when my beautiful Eva shall be mine "for keeps"
forever. Then it will be like the ending of the fairy tales.
Good night, my angel Lady, I love you and am yours forever and
ever.
Sylvester.
A morning kiss for my sweetheart and an ocean of love. It's another
bustling Sunday, for obvious reasons.
Your sweetheart.
[July 14, 1918]
Sweetheart,
It just seems as if you were here with me. I suppose it's because
I just had some watermelon. I'm saving a piece for you.
Miss Davis is going to spend the night in Ocean City so I went
around and got Dorcas. We went over to Atlantic for a few minutes
and bought her a hat and we also bought some lovely cherries
and one-half a water melon. We just had a feast in front of the
fireplace. I ate some for you.
Dorcas and I had the giggles and the talks until we decided it
would never do to go to bed at all but now she is cleaning her
white slippers and in a minute it will be my turn.
I love you and love you and love you my sweetheart.
Good-night.
Eva.
Good morning dearest,
Well we talked and giggled until after two and then I don't know
how it happened we fell asleep. Dorcas has to work today and
I have just gotten her off and now for the dishes. If I go to
the dishes with tho'ts of you tho I won't mind them so much.
I wish you were here now. We certainly could have a lovely day
together. Miss Davis won't be back until tonight. I do wish you
were here as there are so many dishes to be done..
I love you.
Eva.
Camp Devens
Sun. eve. July 14/18.
Dearest,
I have been busy in my room most all evening and it is somewhat
different looking place from when I started.
Capt. June, Capt. Stewart (our doctor), and myself drove up with
Spaulding to Nashua to day and had dinner at his home. Nashua
is a very attractive appearing town, full of elegant shade trees
and well kept old-fashioned homes. The Spauldings live in one
of them, buillt about the same time as my home in Cromwell. The
house is very tastefully furnished and appointed. A number of
their furnishings have special value because they are somewhat
ancient, & been in the family some time. Mr. Spaulding had
a book collection which hit my eye, just a small case of at the
outside 150 volumes, all with fancy bindings. He got the whole
group, he told me, for $5.00 at an auction of the effects of
an old recluse farmer near here, when they were no doubt worth
pretty much near that much apiece when he got them. A book collection,
including favorite sets in fancy bindings, first editions, and
so on, has always seemed to me an attractive hobby. They have
three or four beautiful tall elms in their yard. Also a collie
dog named Klinker IV, who is a lovable pup.
It was a pretty drive up to Nashua and returning - woods, green
hills, pretty old homes, also brown-eyed daisies, asters, and
wild roses.
The golden rod is starting to bloom on the hill back of our quarters.
I am extremely fond of golden rod, and particularly all yellow
flowers. I guess it is for my mother. She likes bright things.
Anything somber is disagreeable to her - especially in music.
She can't bear "Home Sweet Home," "My Old Kentucky
Home'" & some other songs similar, because of the rather
melancholy strain in those songs, and I never play them when
she is at home.
I had my first conversation with a General yesterday. Brigadier
General McNair, who was around at the Supply Train to find out
what it was doing in way of arrangements for the work now going
on - just wanted to see if we knew what we were about, I guess.
He didn't ask for anything I couldn't tell him, so guess he went
away satisfied.
The greatest epidemic of haircuts clipped all over the head got
started in the Train this last week before we realized it. I
consulted Capt. June Friday night as to the advisability of calling
a halt on it, with the result that I got the 1st sergeants together
right away & ordered no more haircuts shorter than one inch
in the Supply Train. It's too late for about half the men, unfortunately,
and we have a fine looking bunch of convicts around loose. I
suppose some of the rest will think it an infringement on personal
liberty, but they'll find plenty of things just as personal as
that regulated for them in the army.
The little half-moon shone brightly tonight, perhaps more with
a far away soft look. It whispered of you, my own sweetheart,
of days of comradeship passed, and thousands of days to come.
I'm afraid I haven't written very intelligently, as I have been
quite sleepy.
I love you, dearest girl. I wonder if you couldn't fly to me
this minute and kiss me good night. Good night Sweetheart.
Your Sylvester.
Good morning , lady. I'm the first one up this morning, and have
been up & down the hall with the whistle waking everyone
else. Until I got my bump in Bridgeport I used to be a reliable
alarm clock, but recently my habits haven't been quite so good
in that regard. However it's more because I'm the Adjutant and
don't have to be with a company at Reveille than any thing.
A kiss for the girl I love. Goodbye for this morning.
Sylvester.
I mailed two letters in Nashua for you yesterday which I hope
won't fail to reach you.
S.
[July 15, 1918]
Dearest,
This is just a little love letter. I love you.
I finally got the dishes done today and straightened out the
house beautifully this morning and then washed my hair. Dorcas
wanted me to come over to the casino with her and Mrs. Lang wanted
me to go fishing with them but I made excuses and pretended to
myself you were coming.
I sewed some more on my dress and then put it on and curled my
hair and then entertained you for a while and I waited and watched
so many trains at last I fell asleep and did not wake up until
five o'clock. I'm glad I did as I needed the rest.
When I woke up I wrote to your Aunt Lucy and started a letter
to your mother and then feeling like a breath of air went up
and mailed my letters to you and her (your Aunt Lucy).
Dorcas was around for a few minutes tonight and then we packed
up and migrated to her home. We had a dandy time and Mr. Davison
treated us to ice cream and cake. I have just come back.
The moon is out sweetheart. Our moon and we have just had a tiny
rain. I'm glad for the little one at that but I wish it would
rain hard tonight.
Goodness I wish I had you here to tease tonight. I've tho't of
lots of terrible tease tortures. My brain certainly is lively
in that direction.
You must have missed your train as the next train down after
the Federal Express has just come in. I just don't believe you
got up in time to catch it.
You tell me to go ahead and plan our honeymoon. Dost that mean
thou art to plan our wedding? Think carefully, Sir, before you
speak. Stop, and count one hundred at least. You needn't bother
about it, tho, as I think I just about have plans for both worked
out. Aren't you glad I going to save you all that trouble and
worry? You just better let me have my own way too or maybe I
won't take you on my honeymoon, no matter how hard you coaxed.
I'd just be determined and put my foot down.
There are lots of morning glories out in our yard now and our
garden (not yours & mine) is quite grown up in weeds because
we haven't a hoe and wouldn't get one at Ennis' and hate to carry
one home from Atlantic. I keep our garden tended to but it doesn't
seem to be in a very good place as the soil is so hard and sandy
there, however, I think the garden is doing nicely.
I'll kiss you good night my sweetheart. Sometimes I kiss your
new picture as it seems so much you and the eyes just follow
me around and around.
I love you best in the world.
Eva
Good morning, dearest. I love you.
Eva.
Camp Devens
Mon. afternoon. [July 15, 1918]
Dearest Sweetheart,
I little lull in a full afternoon, while I'm waiting for some
reports the sergeant-major is getting out, & which I want
to take personally to Camp Headquarters. I'd make a lull today
anyway.
We no longer have Capt. June, on the contrary, Major June, and
I am mightily well pleased. I don't know anything that's looked
so good to me in a long while as the gold leaf on Pop's shoulder.
Now the danger is past of ever putting in a new Major over him.
He ought to be our Commander, he made the organization from its
beginning, and surely is entitled to keep it.
Today is the first hot day this summer. I feel very fortunate
to have escaped it. I hope you are not going to have it awfully
hot there the rest of the summer, for I know you don't like it
any better than I.
I'm glad the flowers from our gardens finally reached you. "Ours"
does mean a lot sweetheart, it means the hope of happiness for
always. I hope you can visit the gardens and let them speak to
you once more my love for you and the beauty of our comradeship.
Good-bye for now. A heart-full of love and a kiss that would
speak it.
Sylvester, your sweetheart.
[note - This is his last letter from this side of the Atlantic.
He was on board ship the next evening headed for "over there"]
[7/18/18?]
Dearest one,
This is being written right after my last letter. We go off to-night.
This letter will reach you when my ship has safely arrived overseas.
I understand they are making quick sailings, so probably it won't
be long.
My room is all empty except a few things for my hand baggage.
Trunk locker and bedding roll went off this morning. It's been
a busy day winding up.
I hope my Don't Open letters haven't been a disappointment. I
sort of felt they weren't very wonderful, but I tried to think
up little messages to send you as I could. The last one I wrote
this morning, the little poem to you my sweetheart, I hope you
will like.
The time is narrowing. Camp Devens will seem like home no more.
10 1/2 months in it is enough to make it seem so.
I hope it won't be long before you will get my next letter. I
think of you always.
Very lovingly,
Sylvester
on shipboard [7/19/18]
Dear Lady,
This is an unexpected opportunity to drop off mail. I have had
quite a little taste of ocean now (only figuratively, I assure
you). I am occupying a stateroom with Major June, Capt. Moody,
and an unknown doctor who snores with an uproarious gurgle.
I have a serial letter which I am adding to everyday and will
mail at the end of the voyage.
This is writing letters under difficulties, so many details there
are it is forbidden to narrate, and being personally known to
the ship censor, much personal matter would not be in order.
I'll say at least that the proper time having come, I have started
to disobey certain "Don't open" signals with pleasurable
results. I haven't been seasick at all, and very few of the men
on board seem to have been so. Only the first day I started to
be wobbly and thought I was in for it, but I got my sea-legs
before long.
We pick up but little news of the outside world, and it seems
strange not to have the daily paper. Every once in a while when
I see a man with his life-belt I almost go up inadvertently to
ask him for a paper. They easily take the form of newspaper bags.
I'm afraid the mail will be going off pretty soon.
Lots of love,
Sylvester
Start writing me right away as:
Capt. S.B.Butler
301st Supply Train
American Expeditionary Forces
Undated, enroute to Europe (7/18/18)
Dearest Eva,
I can't believe my first evening's letter on board ship will
be very long, for we were up practically all night last night
and I've made up no sleep during the day. So I'm almost ready
to turn in. We haven't been away from Camp Devens quite 24 hours
but we are well out to sea. We left camp near midnight last night
and our ship moved from an American port at exactly 9:24 this
morning. It looks as though we were going to have another long
trip, for it is not a very fast boat.
It seems almost natural to be on the ship by now I suppose because
it's been the aim of all our ilk for a year past. I know the
sensation of looking every direction and seeing nothing but water.
It was beautiful tonight at sunset, for the setting sun looked
like a sparkling ruby stone in the watery horizon ring.
I read two of your Don't Open notes which were clipped together
tonight- the first ones I've read. Picked out at random it proved
to be #5. (Just here my pen refused to do any more ink and I
had no facilities to get more ink at the time). It is now next
evening. The first note I read was a honeysuckle story and the
second an invitation to learn to dance on skates. The ocean doesn't
look as though it were frozen quite enough to hold us if we did
that. Well, you say, I'm supposed to come to you, not you to
me. The honeysuckle with the honeysuckle story you wouldn't ever
know had been so long put away.
The letters were very beautiful and happy, dear; it is a splendid
start.
The routine of life on shipboard has been pretty well organized
by tonight, and things are getting along without the confusion
naturally existing at first. There are hours to be set for doing
various things, certain duties to be prepared each day by all
and certain indesirable jobs like kitchen police and deck scrubbing
to hand out to delinquent. When so many many men are together
in a small space it is most essential that no efforts at cleanliness
be spared. I have established headquarters of the 301st Supply
Train in the smoking room; wrote you there last evening but tonight
am writing in my bunk.
Pop and Moody and I are in a stateroom together way up in the
bow. We have double decker bunks which are quite comfortable.
The space for turning around in the room is most enough for 1/2
of a man, provided he didn't have to bend over. we have a medico
Captain in with us who snores with an eloquent gurgle and his
concert with the old foghorn made sleep most out of the question
last night.
All non commissioned officers above grade of Sergeant are on
the deck below us in 2nd class. Their state rooms are very much
like ours, and they eat in the saloon, as soon as we are thru.
The bulk of the men are down in 3d class in hammocks which are
hung in pretty close proximity to one another. They have wooden
tables along the walls right underneath some of their hammocks
which are lashed to the wall right after reveille. There didn't
seem to be enough food the first day and breakfast today, but
that seems to have worked itself out now.
It was misty when we got up today, and has been so all day; and
tonight we had quite a storm. The life boats were assigned today
and tonight I took the men who are to be in mine up to the hurricane
deck and with Leviseur's help assigned positions and duties on
same. Of course it's essential that every man know just what
he's to do in case it becomes necessary to take to the boats.
Major June will have command of that particular life-boat.
This will be all tonight, I think, sweetheart. I suppose by now
you have known I am on my way, for of course a cessation in letters
would mean nothing else to you. I wonder just what you are doing
now and thinking. I love you. Good-night.
3d evening, 7/19/18
Today certain circumstances brought it about that I was able
to drop you a little line off the boat. I hope it succeeds in
reaching you, perhaps even before the safe arrival card I left
in the mail bag at the gangplank at the port from which we embarked.
We have had drills in formations on deck in case of alarm, today,
and also life-boat drills, though I didn't get out into ours.
The Co. A men of the 301st Supply Train gave a minstrel show
(without color) down in the saloon tonight, for the officers
and non-coms above the grade of sergeant. Tomorrow night they
are to give it to the enlisted men in the fore part of the ship,
and the next night to those in the aft troop decks. (Notice how
nautical I am getting). The men are natural entertainers of the
vaudeville type and their show is similar to one they gave in
Worcester last winter. All those things help to make the voyage
pleasanter and keep up spirits. The officers and non-coms of
the higher grades shouldn't need anything to keep up their spirits,
but of course the bulk of the men are living rather crowdedly
down on those dark troop decks and in their hammocks- and who
ever got a real sleep in a hammock?
Tomorrow night I open another letter. No, I'm going to do it
tonight. So! . . . . It's a list of things to be waiting for
me when I come back. I can't wire just now about the fruit salad,
because the wireless must only be used in case of necessity,
and then I think perhaps with everything else which will be waiting,
and if I have everything else promised I ought to take fruit
salad and not allow as how I wouldn't care for any. Goodnight,
dear, Lots of love, Sylvester
4th evening, 7/20/18
This has been the clearest day out and the sunset and moonlight
have been beautiful. The men have been singing out on the fore
deck and a number of mandolins and guitars have been going. Most
anything sounds good under these conditions. I am anxious to
see the men cheerful for the crowded conditions under which they
live can't but be trying.
Moody and the doctor are talking underneath and it is distracting.
I seem to have developed a voracious appetite again, which the
rather limited diet on shipboard doesn't entirely satisfy. I
would like some of your raspberry jam, or could you send me a
delicious huckleberry pie with a bowl of rich cream. That seems
to be just what I want just now.
Goodnight dear. I love you
Sylvester
Fifth evening, 7/21/18
Dear Sweetheart,
This has been a fine clear day, ending up with just a little
fog to-night. It bids fair to be a pleasant voyage all the way
and naturally I hope so. Of course it would be something to tell
about if there were a heavy storm and heavy sea, but I don't
fancy seeing a ship crowded with wretchedly seasick chaps down
on those troop decks.
This afternoon we passed a school of porpoises. It is interesting
to watch them jump clear out of the water in successive springs
as they swim along.
Our time has been changed three times today, at 7:00 in the morning
it was pushed ahead to eight and at 1:30 pushed back to 12:10
then later pushed ahead a half-hour again. So it's been hard
to know just where you're at. The first push ahead was a bit
previous which explained the turning back again later
It seems a long time ahead to the time I'll have a letter from
you, but I have your delightful Don't Open letters, which seem
like a welcome oasis in a desert.
Goodnight, I love you Sweetheart,
Sylvester
6th evening, 7/22/18
Dearest,
This is the most peculiar Sunday I ever spent. There has been
absolutely nothing to mark it as any different from any other
day. We creep steadily thru the limitless sea, and do everything
as on ordinary days. To-night I ventured to sit at the ship piano
awhile, first above, then with Bob Travers and his mandolin.
But every time I sit down to play I sort of mentally vow I'll
not do it again until I get back to my music, as my repertoire
of pieces I can play from memory is narrowing down with lack
of practice. Later I played cards a little while with the Major
and Lt. Leviseur.
Would you expect to see swallows way out here at sea? I am sure
they are swallows, just a few of them, who fly along near the
ship and dip down close to the water. I don't know what they
can ever feed on.
Greene and Spalding and some of the rest have a Ku Klux Klan.
The chief aim and ambition of which is the discomfiture of Moody,
the stunt being to go "Kluk Kluk" every time he starts
to say anything - particularly one of the many times he opens
his mouth and puts his foot in it. It hasn't been carried out
to that extent as yet and Moody "the object of our affections"
as he is designated in the ritual of the order is blissfully
ignorant of its existence. However, I understand I am to be bestowed
with the Grand Order of the Raspberry for asking Moody today
if he saved all three at once when remarked he had been the means
of saving three lives from drowning during his life-time. Moody
is in this same stateroom. I hope doesn't find this. I guess
he won't for its tucked away in a pretty secure place.
I often look to the west out on deck and wonder just which direction
should looking to face exactly toward you. I wonder if you are
thinking of this minute. I feel your presence ever near. Good-night
my Sunshine Lady.
Seventh evening, 7/23/18
Dearest
I am writing this evening down in the main saloon - saloon being
nautical for dining room. I presume you know - there is nothing
stronger on board than ginger ale, though the snoring medico
says he has a couple of quarts of port in his medicine case down
in the hold. How that old boy does snore! He's getting worse
all the time, and he has the most objectionable snore imaginable,
with that gurgle on the end. I wake up frequently during the
night to hear Pop cursing him, silently and otherwise. It's funny,
when you do holler at him he stops for awhile, but the music
starts again soon right where he left off. And he has the face
to say he's never snored before! I'll believe nothing else but
that it's life-long habit. He sleeps most of the day as well
as the night; sleeps about 22 hours a day, I should say. And
our days are not 24 hours long. On account of traveling east,
the clocks are turned ahead 25 minutes every day. It was all
mixed up at first, but that's the earnest dope.
The Ku Klux Klan has more counts against the "object of
its affections". He makes an ass of himself in some new
way every day. Today he was to talk to the men of the 301st Supply
Train, by request of the Major, on the way they should conduct
themselves among The English and French people, and he made some
perfectly asinine statement about their going among a people
in not as high state of civilization as they were! Wow! I had
previously seen his talk as he had it written out, and it looked
all right. Bet he must have embellished later. The other day
at table he remarked something about it's not being homelike
without toothpicks. He's a prize, that fellow! You remember the
old peanut story. I know you do because you included it in the
anthology you got up for me last Christmas.
The sea is really blue out here, a bright beautiful blue. And
as the ship goes thru and churns it up it makes it a delicate
light blue for an instant.
There is an iceberg near us tonight, it was sighted off toward
the north late this afternoon. It has become very foggy, as a
result of the iceberg, I suppose. And it is as cold as November
outside.
Fred Leviseur stopped me in the middle of the letter to play
a few hands of bridge with Capt. Stuart, our medico and an artillery
lieutenant. the Doctor and I were partners and were several hundred
behind up to the last hand and then made a beautiful clean-up
which brought us about 60 ahead.
There is a rumor of a submarine in the near vicinity. The old
snoring medico is scared to death of submarines and doesn't take
a stitch of clothes off all night. That means he doesn't have
to get up till the breakfast bell, for all he has to do is jump
up and put his hat on. He's bald so doesn't have to brush his
hair. I suppose he washes his face, but I never happened to see
him in the act. He's a good hearted old duffer, for all I may
say about him.
Now I'm going to see what my lady has for me to-night. Shall
I tell? No disappointment, anyway. I am going to come back for
her, just as it was bound to be I would get well for you a few
months ago.
Goodnight, my own girlie. I love you.
Eighth Evening, 7/24/18
Dearest
The fog all cleared away before morning, and the day has been
delightfully clear. Toward afternoon it became milder and milder,
too. And there is hardly a riffle on the ocean, comparatively
speaking. I'd say the waves aren't any higher than those in the
Connecticut river, today They haven't been really high at all
during the voyage, the highest being about up to a Hemlock Manor
hill, I should say (Now I expect you have a picture something
like this: drawing of zigzag with tiny ship clinging to sheer
face. Arrow pointing to "ship riding the waves")
The voyage is getting monotonous I think to everyone. A sight
of dry land will be most welcome to anyone. The sameness of it
is most striking. Reveille at 6:00 each morning, breakfast at
6:30. Following breakfast, for the men, there are setting-up
exercises for some, guard-mount for the artillery battery which
is furnishing the ship's guard, and a large number are detailed
on the morning cleaning-up. At 10:30 all are formed up on deck
while the general and his staff make their daily inspection of
the troop's quarters. This time is utilized by company officers
in giving talks to the men on various matters, conduct on the
ship in case of alarm, conduct among the French and English people,
censorship regulations, and so on. I personally stay down below
during that time as Major June's representative when the general
comes to inspect the troop's quarter's of the 301st Supply Train.
Before that time in the morning I am usually up in our headquarters
in the smoking room, and up to today have been compiling data
as to what must be done preparatory to and after disembarking;
that's finished now, and I'll now be starting to do some of the
things laid out. There's not really enough to make a full day,
by any means, at present as this morning I spent quite a little
time up on the hurricane deck, getting the fresh air and studying
a little French. Noon mess is at 12:00, and at 1:00 we have a
Supply Train officer's meeting. Our men have nothing on the program
for the afternoon except sit on deck and move with the boat.
I work more or less leisurely in our headquarters, and at 3:30
hold a meeting of our 1st Sergeants. After that I am very likely
to take a little nap until about 15 minutes before supper which
is usually about a quarter after five. At 7:00 all troops are
formed up on deck again for retreat and inspection of rifles.
Taps is at 9:00.
Beginning today there have to be two officers of our organization
on the fore deck during all meals and all night. Moody and I
have been up there during meals today and are to take the first
half of tonight form 9:00 to 1:30 I'm glad we have a fine mild
night with a full moon.
With time now ahead about two hours, I suppose means you aren't
much more than just thru supper about now (quarter to nine).
I am thinking of you all the while, sweetheart.
Now I'm going up to pace the deck with Moody for a few hours.
Lovingly, Sylvester
Ninth Evening, 7/25/18
Dearest
After my several hour watch last evening I hoped to write you
just another little line, but unfortunately had to go to bed
in the dark. It was an ideal evening to be out, and it was one
to make a person very reminiscent. I think I have never lived
over so much of the past as I have on this trip - and all of
it, the part of my past which was with you. Your letters have
helped it along, too, I think. One of the first things I'm going
to ask you to do when we are together again is to finish the
4 line poem you started in the letter I opened last evening -
the letter was addressed to a History-Algebra teacher.
The doctor and I got quite badly beaten at bridge to-night by
the same pair we beat the other night. We held very unlucky hands
- really and truly.
I slept real late this morning to make up for that 1:30 last
night, and only got up about in time to be down in the troop's
quarters for the general's 10:30 inspection.
The men have been having several boxing matches during afternoons
by way of amusement and by way of novelty today the antagonists
were blindfolded and had a glove on one hand and a tin cup in
the other. They were having a merry time of it.
You are my first thought in the day and last at night, darling,
and I believe are always with me. I love you.
Tenth Evening, 7/26/18
Dearest,
Today we have had a little excitement by way of a change. About
dinnertime some thought they saw a submarine, others know it
was a whale, and those that believed so then seem to be still
believing it. However several of us are skeptics. At any rate
submarine or whale or no submarine or no whale, a lone ship appeared
on the southern horizon going west, and created considerable
speculation, and as far as I know, no one is any more enlightened
about it yet. Rumors spread faster on this ship than anywhere
else in the whole rumor-steeped army, I believe. Every day there's
a wild tale of a dozen submarines lurking wait for us, or a transport
sun off the Irish coast, or something else. All of which die
down with lack of corroboration.
The doctor and I started out for revenge tonight on Fred Leviseur
and his partner and own out at the finish by 1084 to 216. Of
course, tonight as we won, it was skill, last night, hard luck.
You know how that is.
I am opening a letter every night, though perhaps in a week or
so I'll have to make it a little less to be sure they last.
I got talking with a lieutenant from Illinois to-night who know
some cousins of mine in Urbana, Illinois, - a family of one of
my mother's brothers. He told me a lot of my little Cousin Ruth
whom I last saw when she was 5 years old, and is now only about
16 but quite a young lady, he tells me, very grown up.
I have studied two lessons out of my "French for Soldiers"
today. It may be a little help for the beginning, though of course
the really quick way to get it will be right where it is spoken
all the time.
It looks as though we would have a good voyage all the way, which
is surely very fortunate.
Good-night, dear, and lots of love.
Sylvester
Eleventh Evening, 7/27/18
Dear One,
I think I saw your smile of sunshine in the delicate golden sunset
bar which I have just seen. It was in your direction. Are you
sure it was not you smiling then?
Today has been cloudy and damp all day, but the sea has not been
overly rough. However the boat has been pitching a bit more than
usual. We are getting into the zone now where things could begin
to happen. Several still allege that was a submarine yesterday.
Tonight I get up at 1:30 to look after things with Moody the
rest of the night, so that I'm going to bed real early.
My best to my girlie.
Sylvester
Twelfth Evening, 7/28/18
Dear Lady,
I got up at 1:30 this morning according to schedule but that
doesn't mean I have been on the go ever since. I more than made
up for the lost sleep during the day. It wasn't really so very
tedious standing that 1:30-6:00 watch. It's an interesting time
of day, to watch it from the first glimmer of light in the East
to the full blown morning, and there was a little excitement.
This evening I watched a sunset over the rail which was just
the color of our first sunset on the Hemlock Manor road. There
were some long gray clouds, too, set in there, which I couldn't
quite make into a swordfish, but there were two almost-alligators
there. More than that, dear the reflection of your dancing happy
eyes from that far away time, and distant voice repeating something
said at the same place at a later time, which just some how rings
in my ears.
I had a birthday one of the days on the ship. I opened a little
note Mother had sent me to be opened on that date, and also a
letter from Aunt Lucy. Mother's enclosed a little group picture
taken ten years ago, and when I was 16 I was an awful little
chap, with the emphasis on the little. What do you suppose I
opened from you for a birthday message: Perhaps think I'm going
to say something really nice. But I don't know whether to or
not, since it was a serial of dire threats about making me a
permanent dishwasher and making me eat all sorts of things I
wouldn't want to, and so on. I don't know just what I've done
but I'm half scared to death anyway. I'll have to think up a
revenge, making the noise down in my palate that pleases the
babies or something.
To-night I opened the first Don't Open note of all, part of which
was called "Book Worm" [?] with the pretty little verse
to the bluet. Goodness I wish I could half tell you how much
I appreciate these notes.
Another good-night. I am always yours.
Sylvester
Thirteenth Evening, 7/29/18
Dearest,
This voyage is getting just about long enough. Land will be the
most welcome sight in the world. I don't know as I can exactly
say though for I know a certain person who would be the most
welcome sight in the world to me, but I'm speaking from the point
of view of everyone on the ship under our present circumstances.
It is storming to-night and also blowing like everything, and
I suppose we are not more than 200 miles from the coast, and
I think if anything happens to us it's going to be to-night.
The chances are really 100 to 1 in our favor, I imagine, though.
Even though we could get hit, it would take some time for the
ship to go down, and everyone might be able to get off.
There has nothing unusual happened to-day that I can think of.
It is rather hard writing about what one is doing when one has
to think whether it is information which can properly be given.
I hope you won't think I have been writing too personally, if
the letter does get read by a censor he won't be anyone I know,
and I sort o' feel that he's just a cog in a wheel, a piece of
mechanism. So you don't care if I tell you how I love you once
in a while, do you, sweetheart? I do love you a whole ocean full.
Sylvester
Do you think you'll have everything ready to furnish our home
when I come back to you? Perhaps if you can't make the comfort
rocker, you can make a cover just to rest on it where put your
head - embroidered with apple-blossoms? I might think of lots
of nice easy things like that from time to time. I know right
well you have already thought of several nice things - that 'sprise
you frequently spoke of, for one. Some day everything which is
yours and everything which is mine will be ours. that's in the
happy ever after. I love to think of it.
Your Sweetheart
Once more again the same evening. When I stopped, I opened my
daily mail (isn't the postman good to come way out here every
day?) I have been reading about your little jot book, and so
have one more happy thing to think about.
Sylvester
Fourteenth Evening, 7/30/18
Dearest,
we got thru last night, not without incident, but without accident,
and the only incident was a lot of men piling upon deck at what
they thought was an alarm signal. This morning added protection
came which makes me feel more secure, even though to-night we
are going thru probably an even more dangerous area. The report
is that we reach port late to-morrow evening or the following
morning.
Land birds have been in evidence for two days. To-night a great
flock of gulls hovered near our shop. They seem to almost rest
on the water at times.
I have been playing bridge again to-night, but have been anything
but brilliant. I guess the Doc got disgusted with his partner
before we finished.
To-day I have been working harder than usual, seeing to getting
reports ready to be submitted on landing, seeing to preparation
of payrolls on which I am going to try to get payment for our
troops right after landing.
That little letter of yours I opened last night has given me
a heart-song for many an idle moment to-day. I hope our secret
will always make you as happy as on the first time it became
known to each other.. It will bear me, as it has , over many
a lonely moment.
Always yours,
Sylvester
Fifteenth Evening, 7/31/18
Dear Bonnie-over-the-ocean,
I have been reading your funny little Please-Thanks letter to-night,
just now - you know, the one with the sticker illustrations.
I send you right this minute what is called for under the please
sticker, and am taking what was under the thanks sticker.
I have just come off a late watch (to 1:30); there's no light
in my room, so I have come down and am sitting on the stairs
to kitchen to write you. The night has been beautiful. It is
very calm. The sunset was a rich red, the stars shine brightly,
and the moon at its last quarter is also very luminous. When
it first rose it looked just like a little danger lantern of
dull red and we didn't realize it was the moon. There have been
all sorts of squawking birds near the ship. Moody calls them
cat birds, but I think he must be off. And there have also been
some little birds just the shape of ducks but no bigger than
sandpipers. I forgot to speak of another thing in color while
I was on that - the halfmoon on the spray made as the boat goes
thru the water - it makes the richest phosphorescent blue imaginable,
perfectly delightful. I know you would love it.
Today has been full of adventure, and hence of interest. That's
all I can say about it at present. I'm positive that we shall
land to-morrow.
Must say good-night and lots of love to my sweetheart.
Sylvester
Sixteenth Evening, 8/1/18
Dear One,
We docked to-day, and my baggage is off, but the troops are on
shipboard for another night. We leave in the middle of the morning.
I am writing the rest of to-night's letter separately. This is
my ocean voyage letter exclusively, you see. I am going to number
my letters so that you will know when there are any missing.
About to-morrow you will, I hope, get my safe arrival card left
at the port we sailed from.
Good-bye for now. I love you and am true to you always.
Your Sylvester
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