Not till the last line did I realize that Christmas was so near.
Naturally, the war Christmas will be more conservative than ever, but I
hope that real festivities will continue. America is far enough from the
Front to keep the sound of battle from breaking the rhythm of the dance.
I should like to be back there for three or four days of the Christmas
vacation, with a fair round of dancing and turkey and calling on old
friends. I shall make every effort to spend Christmas at my
_marraine’s_.
My present to mother is a silver frame containing a picture of her son
in war array of leathers and furs, helmet and goggles, standing by the
propeller of France’s fastest war plane. To father I give my _croix de
guerre_ representing the first Boche I brought down, and to Bob goes a
penholder shaped like a propeller and made from a splinter of the
propeller of my first Boche plane—all imaginary gifts, but true.
Your son,