sh. It means apple of my eye. I never
saw an apple in nobodys eye, Mable, but I guess thats some
French custom.

Great news, Mable. A fello whats got a friend in the audience department
in Washington just told me the wars goin to end about the 15th of Feb.
Dont say nothin to nobody about it. It might look as if I was gettin
mixed up in politiks. I put in for a furlo on the 5th tho. Then I wont
have to come back, eh Mable? Ill bet your glad. Its great to think of
gettin into a place where you cant see through the walls and there aint
three inches of mud on the floor. An think of not havin to tie the doors
together when you come in or crawl underneath em on your hans and nees
and not havin to put everything you own in the world under the bed. But
I guess you dont care as much about these things as I will.

This would be a good trainin camp for artik explorers. I bet the fello
that picks out the camps ether owns a cold storage plant in civil life
or else they do it by mail order. It got so cold the other night the
silver in the thermometer disappeared. It aint been seen since.

[Illustration: "STUCK MY HEAD OUT OF THE BLANKETS"]

We got a comical guy in the tent. Bill Huggins. Me an hims a pair. Keep
everybody laffin all the time. Bill likes things hot about as well as
me. Every nite he fills the Sibly stove so full of wood that he has to
hammer the last piece in. It gets so hot that it jumps up and down like
a mad monkey. Thats the way Siblys do when they get awful hot. Were not
bothered by that much though.

We got another guy thats a fresh air feend. His name is Angus MacKenzie.
Hes Scotch. Hes so close himself that he has to have lots of air or hed
smother. Every nite he pulls up the side of the tent by his bed. No one
likes fresh air in its place better than me, Mable, but when its as
fresh as this air is its place is outside.

I wake up in the nite rolled into a ball like a porkypine. Theys things
in the middle of my back like his stickers. If I dont move I get cramps.
If I do, I freeze. All around the place where Im lyin is as warm as a
park bench in winter. Sometimes I forget and push my feet down.
That's awful.

One night I thought I heard the horn and stuck my head out of the
blankets. It was Angus with his head and one arm outside snorin. Can you
beat that. I bet he swims in the ice all winter home and has his pictur
in the Sunday paper. I froze my ear before I could get my head back.
Thats the kind of a