A letter from Jack Edwards, a former Record boy who is a military policeman with the engineers, says that Fritz is a busy old rascal with his numerous shells falling among the Americans, and that those underground caves look and feel mighty good. In them a soldier is safe unless the enemy scores a direct hit. Jack tells of ruined French towns, of beautiful chateaus and churches, some of them centuries old, reduced to a black pile by the Huns. He promises to send a souvenir home one of these days.
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