They have what they call a runners bench outside the tin house where the Lootenant sleeps. Joe an I is supposed to take turns sittin there. Its something like the bell hops bench in a hotel only this is an active front. You wont get that for a minit, Mable. All you can here when your sittin out there a fello inside saying "Hello. Pancake. Get off the wire Peggy. I want Pancake. Pancake busy? Give me Pauline. Is that you Purgatory? This is Pineapple speakin."
After Id lissened to that for about half an hour I felt like the gate gard of a bug house. I got hold of the Lootenant in a friendly way an told him Id go halves on my bunk with him cause I didnt think it was safe to sleep with that fello. He might think he was a crum some night an try to choke somebody. The Lootenant said that was just a way they had of telefonin up here. He said you never could tell when a German might be lyin up on the roof or under a bunk lissenin to you. On account of that nobody called anybody else by there right name. For instance he said they called the General Pancake an the Colonel Peggy an this place was called Pineapple.
The more I thought about it the more it sounded like a good sensible idear to me. I went in an told the Lootenant that unless he had something better I thought Id call him Prune juice from then on. He said Id guessed wrong unless I wanted to act as a stone crusher on a road gang. The trouble with most of these fellos is there to stuck up to play the game. Its all right to call a General Pancake or a Colonel Peggy but you want to watch out what you call a 2nd Lootenant.
Well Mable, if what they say is true the doboys will be goin over pretty soon. The Lootenant says were goin with em. Its about as good a chance to pick up a few first hand soovenirs as a fello could want. In case anything happens like my gettin killed or such dont bother about goin into mornin or buyin a lot of new letter paper. Just give them that pictur of me standin in front of the American flag. An when the reporters call for details remember the skies the limit.
yours until the Fritzes get me
Bill
Dere Mable:
Its nobodies fault but the Fritzes that you aint gettin an extinguished service medal insted of this letter. A couple of mornins after I rote you last Joe woke me up an said they were puttin on a battle upstairs. From the way they were shootin things up he thought they ought to be down in the dug-out in a little while. Joes the kind of a fello that gets you up an hour before theres any need for it. I told him to call me when he heard them at the top of the stairs. Practical. Thats me all over, Mable. Then I turned over to get some sleep.
Then the Lootenant came runnin down cussin an swearin because the fone was busted. He told us wed have to go back to the battery an tell em to snap out of it an show the Fritzes that it took two to make an argument. From where we was the Fritzes seemed to be puttin up a pretty good argument all alone an most of it seemed to be goin in the direckshun of the battery. But Joe says Sailor Gare so we started off down the road. There was plenty of noise out there. It was awful foggy but you could see the red flashes once in a while when one of them lit in a field near the road.
Every time one busted Joe would duck into a ditch. He had me doin it pretty soon. The more we ducked the more we couldnt help it till we was goin down the road like a couple of Rushin dancers. Then we broke all the rules of the runners union an ran.
We didnt have no trouble findin the Captin cause we knew just where to look. Just as we started to go down in his dug-out we heard a big one comin and both landed together at the bottom. After a fellos face gets broken in to goin down stairs that way its the easiest way. The Captin was awful sore. He wanted to know what the this an that we meant by comin in without knockin. That fello would want you to salute if you had both arms shot off. I didnt say nothin. Just gave him the Lootenants message.