Today I received twenty-five letters dating from November 1 to December
1....
A little tin box containing sugar, candy, and candied pineapple came day
before yesterday. I ate it nearly all by myself, though I share all
other things. The big can of candy sent by Mr. Buchanan has set open to
the barracks for three days and has been a great pleasure to all of us.
A knitted sweater from a Boston girl whose father was a “Tech” man,
came, and I have all the warm things I could wish for and all the money
I can use for three or four months. I may go to Nice on my next
_permission_, with some of my Christmas money. Father’s check No. 7499
for 250 francs came. Thank you for all these things. Those five pictures
of the cabin touch a chord of their own.
We are near the Front now—twenty-five miles. Last night we saw the great
searchlights playing and the star shells floating at the end of their
fiery arcs. But the country here is fertile and well cared for, and the
only signs of war are a few scattered graves of unknown victims of the
battle of the Marne. We take long walks when not at work—work being the
business of waiting for a chance to fly. There were seven machines
broken yesterday and no one hurt; expenses for the day must have been
thirty thousand dollars. It is a rich man’s game. I had four rides. The
machines are better here.
Today I got half a cup of water, so I washed my teeth. Next Sunday I
shall shave. I cleaned my boots from a puddle in the road. Water is
scarcer than wine, but I am still teetotaling. I am tired tonight.
Good night,