First published 1918.
By Edward Streeter (1891-1976), author of “Father of the Bride,” “That’s Me All Over, Mable,” “Same Old Bill, eh Mable!” “As You Were, Bill!” etc.
The best selling book of 1918. For genuine humor nothing written in recent years surpasses these letters from a “simple soldier” to his best girl. Read them — and live with the rookie through all his perplexities, through all his amusements, through all his work, live with him and laugh with him — and at him!
Written and illustrated by two men of the 27th Division while at Camp Wadsworth. —From the original publisher
Bill apparently hated school. Some of the humor of this book derives from his very creative spelling, and the reader might be well-advised to treat it as though reading dialect. The text is enhanced by 35 full-page cartoon illustrations.
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A couple of excerpts:
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I dont care much for horses. I think they feels the same way about me. Most of them are so big that the only thing there good for is the view of the camp you get when you climb up. They are what they call hors de combat in French. My horse died the other day. I guess it wasnt much effort for him. If it had been he wouldnt have done it.
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Thanksgivin is a holiday. All a fello has to do on a holiday in the artillery is to feed the horses an give em a drink an smooth em out an take em for a walk an then feed em an smooth em out an feed em an give em a drink. It makes a fello feel like givin back a dollar out of his pay at the end of the month.
The horses has the softest of anyone, Mable. They dont even have to get up for breakfast in the morning. We bring it to em in a little bag filled with cereul. You tie this on there face. I guess they aint never been fed before the war broke out. When they see you comin they start jumpin round like starvin sailurs. I dont guess they like cereul. I wouldnt ether three times a day. I thought theyd give em somethin different Thanksgivin but not a chance. There always hopin it ull be somethin else I guess. When they see the same old thing they get sore and try to step on your feet.
The sargents stand way behind an say “Go on in. They wont hurt you.” An then when they land on your corn they say “Thats to bad. You didnt do it right.” I dont like sargents any better than horses.
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