Letter Home From
France
Aigny le Duc, France
April 15, 1919
Dear:
Well, old scout, it seems that just about every member of the
old gang will beat me home. But listen: don’t let any of those hot house boys
getaway with any hero stuff. Why, pal-o-mine, I’ve been “over the top” more
times than those birds have ever been home, and I will look no less important
than John L. McIver when I blow in wearing one of those Croix de Guerres and
other badges received for “gallantry in action.” Boy, I am there—far be it from
me to kid you.
So you asked me when you passed through Liverpool, did you?
And no one knew me? Evidently you didn’t ask my friend Lloyd George. Boy, I had
some time in Paris. Had to wear an assumed name to keep from being jerked up by
the Peace Conference. Pres. Wilson and I hit Paris the same day, and it was
quite a celebration they put on for us. However, I couldn’t find a single
Frenchman who was patriotic enough to let me hold a hundred francs!
So Corbet is in the electrical business. Getting ready for
the “chair,” I guess. May a live wire do its duty.
At $150 a month I admit that you are letting your company
get away with an enormous bargain. Candidly, I think the bird that hired your
ought to e examined by a Psychiatrist. (Oh, no; that is not the name of a
French M.P. He is merely the guy that works in cooperatin with the
squirrels—namely, goes after the ‘nuts.’
Well, son, I have told you all there is to tell—and it’ll
not make you any wiser. Have no idea when we’ll get home, but you can count on
our making up for lost time when we do come.
France is a wet country.
Yours,
R’ham lad in France
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