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September 11th, 1918. Mother: There is a bit of the dark brown taste called coffee at the top of this sheet, but conservation of paper is on the list. As it's darker than blue blazes and looks like rain, and the days convoy has not yet returned, I am risking a light, well camouflaged, to answer two letters from home. Absolutely tickled to death; these from you, dated the 4th and 14th of August, are the first bits of home that have come for what seem ages. It's a very pleasant evening. Many thanks for the addresses. I had no intention that you should go to any great lengths trying to find out where friends now pretty well chattered about might happened to be located, but it certainly was just like you own dear self to do so. They will certainly be appreciated, the addresses, and a few more letters written than might otherwise have been. And about the request, duly certified. Like too many of the things that find their way into my letters, it was more or less a feeble attempt at a joke, the whole business, for I really had not the slightest idea that anything short of the rankest sort bribery would serve to persuade a postmaster to accept a package for me under the existing regulations. Even the lieutenant has been unable to receive parcels, and I have given up hopes altogether of doing so. There is only one way that it might be managed. If you were to mail anything to Miss Nina Nation, address enclosed, I do not doubt but that she would be good enough to forward it to me. It would be ne necessary to have my name on the parcel at all; in fact it would not be advisable. Otherwise there is not much chance for a mere private, acting as various sorts of sergeants for some months. The old order changeth - not! You know that I very seldom have managed to get into a picture of any sort, so have nothing that I can send to you. Cameras are among the forbidden articles, as you are probably aware, and so we do not take many pictures. Which on the whole is pretty sensible. However, I expect to go on permission soon, and if Dad has no objections, will draw on an account reserved for other purposes and steal a day in Pairs "passing through" and hunt up a shop of some sort. (The objection will be too late anyway, so I guess that you will receive likeness of one Ned about Christmas time). I had a letter the other day from Lieutenant Floyd R. Duncan, much to my great pleasure, and one from Seth. Friend "Speed" is over, but at the time of writing had not yet been assigned for duty. The great difficulty over here is in finding out where one's friends are, and it is even more difficult over here is in finding out where one's friends are, and it is even more difficult to meet them, save by some happy chance, after they are located. So far my efforts as a "locater" have been sad and mournful failures, but the bon chans or chance or however it might be spelled has stood me in good stead once or twice. By sheer accident I have met three fellows from school in various parts of France; however, I can not expect that good luck to hold always. Speed seems to be quite mad about the new wife and his work. Before the only thing that moved him strangely were wonderful sunsets. At that - sunsets, the new wife, flying - they are not so greatly incongruous, are they? (The first time that I have used that word for months!) Sorry. I leave at once on a two or three day convoy, so much cut this in the middle. Will write again soon. Love. Ned
From the service of James E. (Ned) Henschel, Co. B Reserve Mallet--French Army, American Field Service, Quartermaster Corps, General Hdgts., and Motor Transport Co. 831.
|Date||September 11, 1918|
|Year Range from||1918|
|Year Range to||1918|
Henschel, James (Ned) Edward
World War I