I think in my earlier letters I wasn’t fair to some of the fellows in our squad. Perhaps I didn’t know how to get at them at first. Even now I don’t suppose mother would see anything in them; yet I’m sure that if I could introduce you to them you’d understand why I like them.
Just keep mother from worrying about me on the hike. I shall be all right. Affectionatly,
David.
From Private Richard Godwin to His Mother
Plattsburg, Sunday the 24th.
Dear Mother:—
This morning it has turned chilly, without sun, and with clouds threatening more rain. As before, I did some washing before breakfast, and now have on the line considerable of my laundry, which I am anxiously feeling of from time to time. If it does not dry, then I shall have to buy some new things for tomorrow.
There being no duties today, men are neglecting church and getting ready for the hike. We must turn in our mattress covers, pillow slips, barrack bags, and for those who do not wish to buy, the overcoats. The captain has sent out word that overcoats may be bought, and I have secured mine by the payment of $9.96; for those who have not the change, the price is $10. Down the street from the store-tent extends a line of men with their surplus in their arms, while I take advantage of their necessarily slow progress to write this to you. One of my pillow-slips I shall retain by the sacrifice of seven cents; it shall serve as a bag to keep my extra things together on the march.