September 28th, 1916.
My Dears:
We're in the midst of a fine old show, so I don't get much opportunity
for writing. Suffice it to say that I've seen the big side of war by now
and the extraordinary uncalculating courage of it. Men run out of a
trench to an attack with as much eagerness as they would display in
overtaking a late bus. If you want to get an idea of what meals are like
when a row is on, order the McAlpin to spread you a table where 34th
crosses Broadway--and wait for the uptown traffic on the Elevated. It's
wonderful to see the waiters dodging with dishes through the
shell-holes.
It's a wonderful autumn day, golden and mellow; I picture to myself what
this country must have looked like before the desolation of war struck
it.
I was Brigade observation officer on September 26th, and wouldn't have
missed what I saw for a thousand dollars. It was a touch and go
business, with shells falling everywhere and machine-gun fire--but
something glorious to remember. I had the great joy of being useful in
setting a Hun position on fire. I think the war will be over in a
twelvemonth.
Our great joy is composing menus of the meals we'll eat when we get
home. Good-bye for the present.
CON.