Carthage courier. (Carthage, Tenn.) 1913-current, 1918-08-08
LETTERs FROM SOLDIER BOYS.


fines to his mother, Mrs. E. L. Hui
fines, of this place. Lester went away
with the Smith county boys VINO left
on the 18th of May and, since going
to camp, has been made a corporal
and thinks he will soon be commits
stoned q sergeant. Since being at
camp, testers great ambition has
been to go to France, and his many
Smith county friends will be glad to
know that his ambition is about to be
realized. His letter follows:
Dear Mamma:-As / have few
minutes to spare, will write you. ]
have been working all day as well as
every Sunday since | have been here.
The Company leaves for an en-
barkation port this week. / was told
by the officers that they would like to
keep me here if | wanted to stay.
Class B. men do not go as only class
A. men are seat; so / was told that
could be re-examined and placed in
class B. and thus stay here. But not
fer me. told them l wanted to go
and was worried TO death for while
for fear that they would not let me
go. But finally they agreed to let me
90. So you may not write me until
you hear from me further. Will
write you as soon as | get to next
place.
We get our overseas clothing to-
morrow. Believe me, we Americans
will look something swell when
we get over there. We will have new
wooden pants, shirt blouses, wrapped
leggins, and when we get to the en-
barkation ports, we turn in our hats
and get caps instead. These are of
the peekaboo kind, having a little
bill in front and behind. l know that
the American soldiers will make fine
impression on the British and French
q. If we go through Nashville and /
can find out far enough in advance,
will wire you. Frank Powell Robert
Turner and a good many other Smith
county boys leave about the same
time l do.
The man / wrote you about taking
meningitis in our company only lived
three or four days. The men who
were sent to the hospital to be treat
ed for the germs were sent back and
pronounced to be in a healthy con-
dition.
1t has been my intention for some
time to give you my army serial
number so that in case of an acct
dent, or tor any reason you should
be unable to communicate with me,
you could write to the Bureau of War
Risk Insurance, Washington, ID. G.
might not be able to do without my
number. My number is. Please
do not lose it as the War Department
would indeed have a hard time find
ing me among four or five million
names without my number. Every
body has a number and goes by that
at Army Headquarters instead of his
name.
/ am not allowed to tell anyone the
exact date we leave here, but it will
be some time this week. AS soon as /
get to the next stopping place, will
write you Your Son.
The following letter has been re-
ceived by the Carthage Courier from
N. B. Brown, Jr., formerly of Chest
nut Mound, but now with the Ameri-
can army, stationed at Camp Gordon,
Ga:
To the Carthage Courier:
Dear Editors:-This being Sunday
/ viii try and drop few lines to the
people of Smith County, as it is i'm
possible to write to all friends there.
1 love old Smith County and all the
people. How is everybody? This
leaves me well and getting along
fine. Camp life is sure a fine life. /
am going to give you people a little
sketch OF it. Sitting here in the
kitchen peeling a bucket of 'spuds" i,
wearing a dirty apron to cover my
blue serge "duds" hundred thousand
in the Bank Society-no that's me.
Just because / was late at roll call
they gave me K. p. Sitting here
in the kitchen with Stops all over my
jeans, picking rocks and splinters out
of a barrel of beans, my thoughts go
wandering to what / used to be,
before / missed the last Post-car and
they gave me a weeks K. p. l think
of nights | squandered doing the bar
room stunts; gee, what a sissy / was,
what a hopeless runt-oh, | was there
with girls, boys, and they called me
a lady's man-what if they saw me
now, scraping a greasy pan? The
Mess sergeant, SLAYER, he gives
man no rest-the first Cook is vii
Ian, but / have the second best. Oh
boys, l enlisted to march away to war
but they've got me here in the kitch-
en- doing the Company chores, polish
ing the roors, watching the biscuits
brown. Me, who used to order two
thousand men around. | wonder what
these two thousand would say if they
saw me now, washing a hundred dish
es for six o'clock chow. Two
months ago in green house held to
a hand and told her that | enlisted to
fight for my native land. She leaned
her head on my shoulder and said she
was proud of me, but should she be
proud if she saw me doing the X. p?
Sv.abbing a Shiny mush pan until my
hands are bleeding sore, fixing the
hash for supper, putting ice in the tea
arch bowl. Society, well now that's
me. Well, for fear the people win
get tired of reading this | VIII close
for this time.
A Smith County Boy,
N. B. BROWN, JR.,
C1rar, fN1,.,l.o Oh