| Home | Search | SBButler Letters |

Letters between Sylvester and Eva, November 1917

November 2, 1917
November 4, 1917
November 6, 1917, Eva
November 10, 1917
November 11,1917
November 14, 1917, Eva
November 15, 1917
November 16, 1917, Eva
November 18, 1917
November 19, 1917, Eva
November 20, 1917
November 21, 1917, Eva
November 25, 1917
November 29, 1917, Eva

SBButler Letters, November 1917

Ayer, Mass.
Nov.2 Friday afternoon

Dear Eva,

This is a little "swamped" note. Will be allright in a couple of days; just the first of the month, with a few midnight v. after sessions. This also by way of proving that an "ossifer" doesn't have such an easy time of it as the little anthology of verse I received this week would indicate.

More about that tomorrow or Sunday when I write. Be good.

Camp Devens. Ayer, Mass.
Nov. 4, 1917 [Sunday]

Dear Eva,

I am hugging the kitchen fire to-night, for I can't find any unused oil stoves, and besides, I'm getting scared of them anyway, for there have been two bad fires here in two weeks on account of them. I have been spending a most enjoyable and refreshing week-end with my sister down at Wellesley, the first Sunday I have been away from here in six weeks. She met me in Boston yesterday afternoon, and after supper, we went to hear the Boston Symphony Orchestra, the first time I have heard that famous organization.

I went out to Wellesley with Lucinthia after the concert. This morning the first thing she had for me was a breakfast party with just a few of her friends in her society house. It is a most attractive house, quite small Grecian style; one nice big living room, with piano, victrola, and fireplace, in front of which there is the comfyest blue divan you ever sat in. And the house is located right on the shore of the lake, facing the sunset, and they tell me they get some gorgeous sunsets there.

Lucinthia and one of her friends and I had dinner at an inn about a mile from the grounds; they served there the silliest salad I ever saw, for any right-thinking person will agree that all salads are silly. But this one was ultra-ridiculous; a canned pear reposing on a piece of lettuce, and crowned with a wreath of red pepper, with the usual dressing, and served with cheese & crackers - can you beat it?

We took quite a walk, all around the lake that's right by the college grounds, after dinner, and then went to the dormitory where Lucinthia rooms, and I visited with her there in another fine big living room with all the fixings one could desire. The whole grounds and country round about there are very attractive & very well kept up. It has been refreshing to get to such a place for a day, both for its natural loveliness, and for the University atmosphere, and of course for the chance to see my "little" sister for a while.

One of the men in my company, a man I have acting as company clerk, took me in to Boston in a car he keeps up here, yesterday afternoon, and came down to Wellesley and got me this afternoon. Our drive took us thru Concord, famous for one of the first battles of the Revolution. It is filled with the finest lot of old-fashioned houses I ever saw together. Incidentally, we had a blow-out there (don't get excited, it was only a tire - no chance for any other kind of one for a poor chap in uniform).

Your Camp Devens anthology was immense. I marveled at your memory for all the crazy little incidents I've told you about at different times. I've swallowed the four-foot bunks [note- I'm not sure that this word is "bunks" but that is what it looks like], as per directions, but refuse to accept any implications that lieutenants lead a life of ease.

Seeing as you pick on me and my perfectly good expressive English I am going to pick on you and say what am I going to make out of this Chinese puzzle: "The High School Alumni is[underlined] going to give a dance and 'Mr.' wants me to go with him." In line with the remarks which follow about royalty and common folks, I should most decidedly take the former, the individual being nameless. Lest you don't get what I'm driving at in my silly chatter, let me explain that the gentleman's name was omitted. Enough, Butler.

It surely would be lovely if Miss Tolbert could get an apartment or house, and you could go to live with her. I do hope it will come out that this can be done.

Lucinthia doesn't know Miss Hammell but thinks she has heard of her.

It is midnight, and I must begin to think of sleep.

With my best, as ever

[Postmarked Pleasantville, NJ, Nov.6, 1917]

Dear Sylvester

We've gone and done it.

Miss Gertrude M. Tolbert and Miss Eva R.L.W.McC.F.B. Lutz will be at home at 27 Hampton Court

after November 10th. Friends and relatives are cordially invited.

It's a bungalow. A beauty. You go up a flight of stone steps to get to it and then a flight of wooden ones. It's just a grand-five rooms- bath and a wonder cellar also a little attic but we told the owner she might use that to store some of her things in. It has all new comfy cosy furniture and hot water heat. I have been hemming napkins and tablecloths for it this evening.

Last night I gave Dado [Miss Tolbert's nick-name, also spelled Daido] a "sprise parte" as it was her birthday. We had a candle cake and lots of good things to eat. I had three candles on the cake one for Dado, one for Frank and one for me. It being Sunday, of course we didn't romp much and we only could play hims on the piano but for all we had a pretty good time.

Well I guess this will be all or I fear I shall start on the house again. I feel it coming.


Cromwell, Conn.
Nov. 10, 1917

Dear Eva,

I am spending the week end down home, you see. This time I came down Friday afternoon, so that I am having all Saturday at home. Moody and I drove down from Ayer yesterday afternoon in the Supply Train "flivver". We started out at one o'clock and were in Hartford at ten minutes of six; had no mishaps, and passed Packards and everything else on the way. Moody lives in Hartford and I left him with the car there, then met Father just coming out of his office, and rode down home with him. The afternoon's drive was very pleasant. Massachusetts is a very scenic state, and its towns and outlying farms are for the most part trim and neat. Most all the towns have their old village green with fine old-fashioned houses all around it. I'm quite taken with them, and, strange to say, they're rather new to me, for our Connecticut towns don't many of them have the old village squares. I'm trying to think, did we ever see any real lavender reflections of the sunset on the water? Last night, we were driving along a little lake in northern Connecticut, when the sunset was at its height, - and a most resplendent sunset it was -, and this lake was a most beautiful, brilliant lavender - no lavender in the sky at all, but on the blue of the water, I presume the colors of the sky blended into the King of Colors. Or should it be called the Queen, and Purple the King? Just the night before, we had a very gorgeous sunset, too, which I wish you could have seen with me, chiefly for an unusual cloud formation I want to tell you about - amid all the color, there was a straight row across the sky of pure white round clouds, like so many dots, only they were big dots. These gradually spread out until each of them was almost a perfect white plume.

I slept like a lazy loafer until eight o'clock this morning, and have done nothing thus far except read the paper and play the piano a little while. Ralph is still home, and I'm afraid won't be able to report for duty for some little time yet. He's up and around the house, but can't do any work, and his wound where he was operated on hasn't entirely healed. It worries him to have to just stay around like this, for as he says, it makes him feel like a chump when he looks so able bodied. And then it's pretty uncertain what they'll do with him when he can report back, for his own outfit is in Europe, and it looks as though they may transfer him to some other organization altogether that hasn't gone over yet. That naturally doesn't strike his fancy much.

Last Tuesday night my company had a sort of banquet in its mess-hall, a six course dinner and smokes following, also speeches by some members of the company, and by myself. Just to show you how well I have camouflaged my youth, the man who acted as toast master introduced all the men of the company who spoke as "a young man, who" etc., and then when he got to me as "a man, who" etc. So I started out by telling how ancient I felt. We had saved quite a little on the company mess, and it seemed a good way to spend some of it; it was a sort of get-together party to awaken a company spirit & a spirit of cooperation among the men, which I felt was somewhat needed.

It's been quite astounding to me to find the last two weeks, when I've been away week-ends, how much the people in civil life are saving, to be sure that there is plenty for the soldiers. In Cromwell I find the ladies are carrying on a big savings campaign among all the families in town, and I take it this is being done all over the country.

Today is a half-year anniversary - six months to-day since our last Hemlock Manor party, except the psychic one of a few weeks ago - I don't forget that. Eva, I was just as pleased as one could be to learn of your new venture in home-keeping. I surely think it's fine, and hope you'll be able to keep it up right along. But how long since Miss Tolbert became "Dado"? And do you have some similar canine appellation? Don't tell me you're Fido or Bruno or anything like that!

Ever yours

Camp Devens
Sunday evening, Nov. 11.

Dear Eva,

If I am not very greatly mistaken, you have a birthday on Tuesday of this week. So I don't want to be behindhand in wishing you a happy one and many more. I am sending you back for safe-keeping the candle and keys and Liliputian china set, which I thought you might need in house keeping. The package is not done up well, but I had little to do it with, and am decidedly not an expert in the package line. With these things, there are two books which I hope you will like to have. You and I agreed once I believe that the name of a bird or flower had nothing to do with its pleasing note or color, but I have heard you say you would like to know the names of all you saw, so perhaps these can tell you about any you see & do not know. I speak of them here, because I didn't put much writing in the books, fearing the postal authorities.

I have been riding back all afternoon and got here about eight o'clock. I've had to spend most of the evening straightening out my room, as some steamfitters were working here when I was away & left everything in dust and confusion.

I must say good night,

[postmarked Nov.14, 1917, apparently started on Nov.12]

Dear Sylvester,

How dare you suggest that "Dado" is a canine appellation? Miss Tolbert's small nephew when a child could not say Aunt Gertrude so he called her Aunt Dado. When I was at Cape May he put me wise and much to her chagrin she has been our "Dado" ever since because I being a Che-iuld also can not say Gertrude. But how did you know I called her "Dado"? She lectures me for it all the time but I have persisted until now she is getting used to it.

We moved into our new home Saturday and have been having wonder times. Won't you tell me about that word "camouflage". I have seen it frequently recently and know the meaning, but what language did it come from and how did we get it? I have been trying for some time to find out about it but never thot of availing myself of "Butler's" Dictionary.

I haven't had time for many walks or sunsets lately but I saw the new moon early this morning.

Did you ever get a "Halloween" letter from me? I lost one all addressed, stamped and sealed and thot perhaps the finder might have mailed it.

I am glad you had such a lovely time home over the week end and also at your Smoker. I have often heard of Massachusetts' Greens or Commons but have never seen any of them. Just the other day I was reading of a May Party given on one of them in imitation of the May Parties of Old England.

Next day 11/13/17

I was up to Gladys' last night and we, our class, started an alumni. I am quite busy now as I am also partly filling Ward Hammell's position.

Will write more later.

Camp Devens
Nov. 15, 1917. [Thursday]

Dear Eva,

To-night is a big night. The steam heat has been attached to Officers' barracks 327, and I am fairly boiled to death - I couldn't sat roasted, for roasting is, I believe, not a property of steam. From what you learned from Gen. Cruse in days gone by you probably are familiar with this great truth of Nature.

Who should drop in on me tonight but my brother! It was surely a great surprise. He received orders yesterday from the Headquarters of the Northeastern Department to report to the Base Hospital at Camp Devens. What for we don't yet know. The organization to which he had been transferred is also moving out somewhere, and I guess he is being sent up here as to the only medical unit in New England still on this side to decide whether he should stay in the service or not, or how long a furlough he needed. He is staying with me to-night and to-morrow morning we're going up to the hospital to see what's what.

I've found a way to become good-looking - they've given me a gas mask. All the officers of the Supply Train have to go to lectures every evening at present on gas warfare - chiefly preventive measures against gas, and we each of us have a mask to practice with.

Your Hallowe'en letter never reached here, for which I am certainly sorry, for it sounds very interesting.

Camouflage is, I think, a French word; I first heard it in conversation with military operations, as means of disguising an object; for instance, covering a big gun with boughs to make it look like a tree or a bush. And the word, being quite expressive, has come into common use as concealment or disguise of any sort.

I must get to work and plan out to-morrow.

As ever

[postmarked Nov. 16, 1917]

Dear Sylvester,

I had just the loveliest birthday. I got a s'prise in the morning and two s'prises at night.

Miss Tolbert and Frank had a s'prise party for me. They chased me out after supper and when I came into the dining room again there was the loveliest birthday candle cake, a dish of fruit arranged so prettily I only would give them one grape apiece last night for fear of spoiling it. And then I saw a big dish of limes, and peppermints and wintergreens - she knows what I like for parties altho she doesn't know about the last Manor party and then there were nuts also, so we had quite a feast.

We started up to Chataqua and then I got your letter. I didn't know you knew about my birthday. I haven't gotten the books yet but I can hardly wait. I have been especially interested in birds this fall and I have two "Killdeer" and one "Song Sparrow" friend and I am so anxious to find out all I can about them.

I have caught an awful cold some how and I now have a wonder stiff neck and swollen gland. Last week I had to go to the dentists' and this week it's the doctor's so it certainly is a good thing I got a raise yesterday.

We certainly are having lots of fun keeping house. It's a lovely home too. We are going to entertain the Latin Club tomorrow night.

Miss Bryant and Miss McClelland were in to see us last night and they certainly do think we have it some nice. They said if they had known the house was up for rent first we would not have gotten it. We're glad we knew first altho I suppose I am selfish.

I am almost worked to death but I like it here.

Are you having a lot of lovely weather up there? We are having regular Indian Summer down here and it is just grand.

The frost has ruined all the beautiful color of the leaves but we have still some birds left and now the nuts are ripe. Frank and I went Hickory nutting the other day and we got quite a few.

Well, I guess this is all for this time.


My books came last night and they are just lovely. I thank you ever and ever so much for them. I have not been able as yet to learn the names of all the birds and flowers yet but I have been trying hard. They are just what I have wanted for a long time and are just lovely to take on our trips.

Thanks again

Mrs. Winch asked me if I wrote to you to remember her. Mildred B. was also asking me if I knew anything about where you were.

Camp Devens
Nov. 18, 1917, Sunday night

Dear Eva,

One of just-my-kind-of winds is blowing outside to-night and I am enjoying its bluster while I write you. I think it is the forerunner of the first rain we will have had in a long while.

Ralph is still up here at Camp Devens, and we haven't yet been able to find out definitely what's going to be done with him. We went up to the hospital the next morning after he came, and they assigned him to a ward for treatment and observation. The ward physician promised me yesterday that I should know by Monday their decision as to whether he should be retained in the service or not. We're anxious to know as soon as possible, because if he is to stay in the service, we next want to find out whether he still belongs to his old organization or whether the order sending him up here makes him part of this division; and if we find he belongs to the 76th Division (that is the no. of the division which is camped here and which I therefore am a part), then we want to try to get him assigned to the Supply Train when he is released from the hospital. It makes it uncomfortable for him, all this uncertainty of just what his status is. It surely was a great surprise to have him drop on me so suddenly, and seems strange to have him so near. I go up to see him every afternoon, and yesterday and to-day spent a couple of hours with him.

There are brand new rumors every day as to where we are going. Maryland and Panama being the two latest, but neither of them very substantial. Nobody knows, and probably won't know until a night before the time, when we're to move, no matter whether it's two weeks from now or five months. I presume some fine evening we'll be told to be ready to board the train the next morning & off we'll go - the best way to have it done. Probably from that time, unless it's merely a movement South, all letters will be held up until we safely reach our destination, so you can take a week gone by without a letter from me as a sort of signal that we're on the move some where. I am getting more and more anxious to get across, especially now that we know our own American Troops are in the front line trenches. I hope they can get us over there and have us ready to use by spring but I fear we won't be considered well enough trained yet by that time unless troops are needed very urgently.

I am trying hard at present time among countless other things to learn something about gas engines & motor trucks; it's hard as can be for I have no sense whatever for anything mechanical, nor have no natural interest whatever in the mechanism of a thing. But I've got to know a great deal about motor trucks to run a motor truck company with the highest degree of efficiency. Beginning this week we are devoting half our time to theoretical & practical instruction of the men in gas engines & motor vehicles. Most of the men we have are already chauffeurs, but probably there is plenty they can learn, and I understand several never did do much repair work on them, but just drove them; and of course here they will all have to know how to repair their own trucks.

Ephraim Mitchell wrote me the High School football team did much better against Bridgeton this year than last, when we took that memorable truck ride from which Dr. Whitney never recovered for four months. That event took place just a year ago to-day, too, by the way.

Please excuse this half-sheet [second sheet of writing paper cut in half], and don't think I am getting stingy in my old age.

As ever, your friend

[postmarked Nov.19, 1917]

Dear Sylvester,

I don't know whether I ought to write or not. This is not going to be a very cheerful letter as I am not in a very amicable frame of mind in fact far from it.

Daddie has fallen and hurt himself and is in the Jefferson Hospital. Mama came down yesterday and between hysterics and everything else I have gathered that his leg is broken and they don't know what else is the matter.

Frank told her that he was having the best time of his life and she got mad or jealous or something and she won't let him stay with me. Poor kid, he cried himself sick and so did I. Miss Tolbert thinks she'll let me have him again at least I am going to make a hard try to get him. When I said what I thot, and I really did speak freely as I really wanted to for the first time, she even went so far as to say she would make me come home. I believe she is only talking but at any rate I never would go as long as she is there. I would do everything I could for Dad but I feel I owe her nothing, not even if she is my mother. If it's no worse than a broken leg maybe Dad will get six weeks of peace and if I know anything about it, I believe he needs it.

Yesterday afternoon Daido and I took a little meadow walk and we found a few late flowers. We were going to look them up but just about that time Cousin Ella came and told me Mama was home and that papa was hurt so I went.

Edgar Baker and Otto Harris have enlisted and they are going to give them a farewell party up at school tonight. I think the people here are just beginning to realize a little bit that there is a war and that it is a man's place to be in it. It seems terrible to be out of the great struggle for the very life of the world. It doesn't seem right to live on as carefree, and as indolent as ever when so many are giving up so much.

The Latin Party was a success. Forty attended and we had a grand time.

We have had lots of visitors. People drop in at all hours. We really are so cosy and comfy I don't blame them in the least but once in the while it is rather inconvenient - for instance if you get caught scrubbing the floor or something like that as happened to Daido and I got caught ironing on Sunday.

Terrible crimes these.

I'm certainly glad Daido and I are together. I don't know what I would do if we weren't, especially now. I wish I could go about ten thousand miles away from everything.

Daido and I have started to knit for the "Navy League of New Jersey."

It is a bit but a very little bit.

Mildred Burns, I believe, has transferred her affections from you to your successor, at least, I heard, she asked him to take her home from the Freshman party. I am not sure that he did. I don't think much of him. He is insignificant looking and from what I have heard he has a very high opinion of himself. He also seems to have an appreciation of Pleasantville equal to my appraisal of him. Dr.W.W.W. was arrested for shaking one of the boys up at #1 School the other day. I don't know how he came out of the matter. Unscathed or not, It would be too bad if his reputation was in any way hurt.

We have lots of ferns and flowers in our new home and it certainly looks beautiful. Miss Fleisher and Miss Jordan came to see us the other night and they certainly were tickled with it. Sunday we had Miss Davis in the morning, Miss Ryinear and Miss Collins, and Risley in the afternoon. Saturday My Aunt Liza, I guess you have never seen her, came around for a few minutes. She is some officer in the Navy League. Last night Mr. Boice came over. He is the owner of the house. He came to get some gunning things. He and his wife don't live together. They both seem very nice, have a lovely home and one little girl.

Well I suppose I better stop

Camp Devens
Nov. 20, 1917, Tuesday night

Dear Eva,

I am so sorry to hear your bad news, and do hope your father isn't very badly off. It is a pity your brother was taken away from you, but perhaps he will get back. I had felt so glad to know that he was with you, and have felt so safe about you since I have known you were with Miss Tolbert. Stay with her, don't let anybody take you away from her. I hope I may never have to learn that anything like that has happened, especially when the time comes that I'll be a great distance further from you than I am now, and I would feel so helpless and wretched, because I would wish I might be back where I might help out. Oh, but you won't, I know. Everything is going to be all right, I know, and when next year comes you will be 21 and no one can say you shall do this or that or anything. I hope I have not said more than I ought; I took the liberty of speaking so freely because you told me all about it, and have told me of other times, enough so that I know some of what you have had to go thru.

I suppose you'll have quite a Thanksgiving Party at your home. And, by the way, have you named it yet? I don't know yet what I shall do then and it will depend largely on whether Ralph is still kept at the Hospital here or not. We are having a great old time trying to find what he's supposed to belong to, and what's going to be done with him. I'd hate to be ordered away from here before his case is settled, for there would be nobody around who knew the facts of his recent illness & the necessity of his doing light work, or would take any pains to see that he was assigned to such duty as would not endanger his health. For his was a bad case and it will be a long while in my estimation before he ought to do any such work as carrying a pack. If he is supposed to stay at Camp Devens, and not rejoin his old company in Europe, then Lieut. June and I are to do our best to get him in the Supply Train, then he'd be where people knew of his condition, because I have told them all about him, and he could be properly taken care of.

So you see I've got lots of people I'm anxious about; I'm anxious about Ralph, and anxious about you. Are two lots?

Remember me to your home-mate; and to the Winches if you ever happen to see them. Did Davis win his contest for assemblyman? I thought when I left Pleasantville I would hear quite a little from him but I have never had a real letter from him yet.

Be a good girl, and that you may be always happy is my never-ending wish.

As always

[postmarked Nov.21, 1917]

Dear Sylvester,

I don't wonder that babies are cross when they are cutting teeth. I am cutting two wisdom teeth and it seems as if there are at least a dozen. I can hardly eat or sleep and the only thing it seems possible for me to do comfortably is complain. I never had a toothache but the dentist nearly killed me Saturday filling a tooth and I have a cold, and my glands are swollen, from my teeth, and I think I'm full of troubles and tribulations. When I told the dentist that my teeth were hurting he said, "Don't worry they won't hurt long but about the time these two are in, I think another one will be ready." A cheerful prospect, is it not? He saw me Saturday night and he said I was telling my wife that no matter how hard I tried I couldn't make you yell. I told him, "no, I saved my yelling up for when I got home." That's the proper way to do isn't it. Allow your acquaintances and dentists to be comfortable and go home and complain to the ones you love and make them miserable. I think, I must have nearly driven Daido crazy.

We never seem to be able to get time to go out at all any more. We had a perfectly lovely time cleaning and scrubbing all yesterday. Wouldn't you be interested to hear how we scoured the pots until, when the sun came in the room, they grew so bright we had to leave; and how we waged such a war on dirt and dust until we wore the carpet full of holes moving the furniture.

You had a rain-snow last Wednesday didn't you? We have had no snow here but its been cold as ice. And you haven't had it as cold as we have.

I know your title in some foreign language. I am not quite sure whether it is French or Irish or what but I am sure that "Legatus" means lieutenant, and perhaps if I made a guess and said it was Latin - nominative case I would come somewhere near being right about the language.

Do you know I never seem to be able to think of anything to say. I am doing so little now that is interesting. Of course I could tell you about Daido breaking one of our choice blue dishes and me smashing a white saucer or that the heater fire went out this morning and I hurried up to the office to get warm only to find that the fire up here too had decided to take a rest but I'm afraid you never would get past the first line or two.

We have some of the loveliest ferns and flowers in our house now. I do wish you could see it. I just know you would love it -- I mean "like" it lots.

Do you really expect to go away soon? And have you no idea where you will go? I s'pose that's prying into military secrets.

Dad seems to be resting all right. His chief worry seems to be in the eating line. The only luxuries he's allowed are oranges and ice cream and he nearly dies for candy. He can't get enough smuggled in to the place for him, he says. I don't know how to help him out as I am afraid if I send him a party they will open it.

Spelling class please come to order. Lilliputian has two l's in it not one. Dismissed.

I just got a letter from Pearl - my girl friend who eloped the other..........

[note- Another cut off letter. Probably something juicy about Pearl.]

Camp Devens
Nov. 25, 1917, Sunday evening

Dear Eva,

I was glad to get your letter tonight with some better news in it.

My but it's freezing cold tonight! Regular skating weather here, and I suppose you're still having nice balmy autumn days. The beautiful clear moonlit night we are having to-night has made me think of skating nights. See that blot at the top of the paper? Some radiator or portion of pipe just gave a loud snap from the cold, I presume, and I jumped about a foot out of my chair.

Ralph was discharged from the hospital Saturday, and sent to the Depot Brigade here at Camp Devens, but not for duty as yet. He hopes to succeed in getting a furlough until he is ready for duty, and I don't see any reason why he shouldn't. In the meantime we are still trying to find out what he belongs to. If he belongs to this division we shall probably try to engineer his transfer down to this outfit.

He and I both went down to Worcester yesterday, and my sister came over there from Wellesley. We visited our cousins, the Coes, with whom I stayed, you remember, just the night before I came up here in August, in their bungalow way out in the country. They are back in their city home now of course. Ralph and I rode down with Moody in the Supply Train Ford, he being on his way home; and to-day Mr. Coe brought us back, so we avoided having to go by train or trolley.

Eva, I'm getting so that I've forgotten how to write, I guess. I don't believe I've written anyone an interesting letter in three months. And lots of interesting things happen every day, too. The small group of officers who belong to the Supply Train with me are the most congenial group of men with whom I've ever been associated. For years I haven't seemed to be in close contact with men with whom I seemed to fit naturally, and the association with my fellow officers here is all the more pleasant by contrast. It seems so strange, too, sometimes, for none of us knew any others very well at Plattsburg, and of course none of us knows how any of the others looks except in uniform.

I was fortunate this last week in getting a Mr. French from Boston out here to talk to my company on experiences he had had in the transportation service on the Western front with the French Army. It was very valuable and interesting, for it showed us much clearer than any of the men or myself knew before just the sort of thing we will have to do & contend with when we get into the maelstrom "over there."

I am dead tired, and will have to say good-night.

As ever

[postmarked Nov.29, 1917]

Dear Sylvester,

After my worrisome bothersome letter I have Frank.

I got a special invitation to come to Edgar Baker's and Otto Harris's farewell party up at school last night so I went and we had a good time tho rather rough. We played "Three Deep", "Hare & Hounds" and some game when your hands are tied in back of you. Charles Penhollow was determined to catch me when we were playing this and I was most exhausted when some one suggested another game be played. Then we went up stairs and sang and danced. Miss Haskill came in and nearly fainted. We sang "Oh Boys oh joy Where do we go From Here", "We're going Over" and a lot more popular music and some of the school songs. We sang the "Torpedo & the Whale" and Mildred B. nearly exploded in trying to soar above the rest on the high notes.

Baker rushed over to us once and begged for protection from her. She sure is the limit.

Dad's leg is broken up near the hip and his head is cut quite bad, Aunt Maggie, Lewis Adam's mother, went up to see him yesterday and she told me all about it.

Dear Dad he wrote me a nice little note altho I could hardly read it as he said he had to hold a book up in the air to write on it.

Daido and I haven't named our home yet we can't seem to find a name that just fits our home. Do you know it is almost as lovely and as nice as if we had picked out everything ourselves.

I'm going to have a pretty lonely thanks giving I fear as Daido is going home to her family and as I'll have no family then except Frank, I expect we won't find very much to have a regular Thanksgiving for especially as we will have no one to cook a regular Thanksgiving Dinner which seems to be the main part of T.G. except the holiday part.

I really am sorry you are having so much trouble about your brother. Don't you hate to have things unsettled? It's awful to be wandering about uncertain of what is going to happen next. I feel so much better now that I am settled and have a definite end in view.

I'm so sorry my letter made you worry. Please don't worry about me! I really am getting along better than I ever have and I don't think mama meant half she said. frank wouldn't stay with her or Katie and Katie said she couldn't stay with him anyway so I am to have him at least until Dad is well.

I am saving a little of my energy to write to dad and Frances so I ought to stop.


P.S. A pleasant Thanksgiving to you with a bouncing big turkey and plenty of apple sass and punkin pie.

Back to Top | Home | Search | SBButler Letters |