Source: “Duty Nobly Done” page 329.
Kern’s Comrade Writes
Here’s a letter from W.M. Patterson who is in the same company at Alderman Frank Kern, written to a friend here:
“Although I am in the same company with Frank Kern I have not seen him for a week for the reason that he is on detached duty and I am engaged in helping to unload shiploads of provisions having been transferred to the C.A.S.C. but will then go back to camp about next Sunday. I sure have put in a hard week’s work handling supplies such as quarters of beef, sides of pork, bags of flour, sugar, potatoes, carrots, turnips, beets, cabbages, and all kinds of groceries and provisions for the reserves at camp. There seems to be no end to the food shipped here for this great training camp. Among the provisions included besides that mentioned above are rabbits and sheep from Australia, beef heart and liver from Argentina, pork, hams, bacon, corned beefs, canned meats, from God’s country – the U.S.A. – potatoes and vegetables from Canada and the United States, and ever so many other things too numerous to mention.
I had a package of American cigarettes sent to me the other day from home and we are all smoking them – good old Camels which all the boys love. I just cut out a piece from a magazine that sure hits the spot in regard to soldier’s smokes, and I notice in a recent Kaukauna Times the objection somebody here has to the boys smoking cigarettes in the Army. Just wish some of those tight-laced kind of folks had to endure at home what we soldiers have to stand while in the service – I think they would change their minds mighty soon. Here’s a bit of poetry.
When Fritz is starting something and his gun are on the bust,
When the parapet goes up in chunks, and settles down in dust,When the roly-poly “rum-jar” comes a-wobbling thro’ the air,
‘Til it lands upon a dugout – and the dugout isn’t there,
When the air is full of dust, and smoke, and scraps of steel and noise,
And you think you’re booked for golden crowns and other Heavenly joys’
When your nerves are all a-tremble, and your brain is all a-fret,
It isn’t half as hopeless if you’ve got a cigarette.
War Diary of the 18th Battalion CEF 