Army Detachment Center, Boulder, CO, 1918
My Dear Violet,
There seems to be an uncontrollable feeling which seems to carry my feet to the writing table and scratch off a few lines to my dear. We are all off this afternoon so I am having time to write. I have just completed my week’s wash. I can’t leave camp because I must be examined this afternoon if they get down to me. We received a partial examination Thursday evening and they are finishing the remaining ones this afternoon. They said they were going to inoculate all of us today, but that will be put off until Monday. I don’t remember whether I thanked you for the dish towel or not, but thank you so much. The candy was delicious, too. When I received it, Clyde wanted me to sell him 6 pieces for a quarter. I gave him some just to cheer him. He speaks a great deal about his girl, but he hasn’t got one equal to mine. To hear him talk and express himself, you would think he was not in his right mind. Whenever the word “army” is spoken, he generally says, “The Hell with the Army.”
Last night I was standing, talking to Captain Baird; Clyde came along and began talking to me. He only said two words when the captain said, “Be careful and salute whenever addressing a person who is talking to a superior officer.” He told him many other things which I could not remember, but he gave him a good talking to. He does not say anything back, either. He is as good as any other soldier when officers are about.
The course is going to be hard for those who have trouble with figures. This morning Mr. Wheelwright of Ogden and I put in two blocks of cement, 5’ by 5’. We did it all except mixing the cement. We had to put the top coat on and then smooth it down before we could leave it.
Friday morning we surveyed the campus. We only went a quarter of a mile when we found that there was a rise of 31.12 feet. The elevation is 5,295 ft. near where our home is – a little over a mile high. As far as you can see there are rolling hills. On the west there are mountains, but not as large as ours in Utah. They are covered with pine trees. The mornings and nights are very cold. I sleep with three thicknesses of blankets over me, and even then it is not so very warm. Many of the boys have complained of being cold.
By the time I get back home, tobacco smoke will be my best friend, for wherever I go I find smoke. I came down to the tables to write, and one fellow sat beside me with a cigarette in his hand and was blowing the smoke my way. When he left, another fellow did the same thing. I go to my bunk and the smoke rolls over my face in volumes. Where I can go I know not, but it makes me sick. Last night we got in from drill at eight-thirty; we were supposed to have been in by seven-thirty, but I guess we just got a little overtime without pay.
It was perfectly alright with me, for the captain gave me a good send off. He worked with the last part of the company, to which I belonged. He got a little worked up, so took the awkward squad and drilled them until they were so tired they could hardly walk. Then he asked for some to make another squad. Of course I was right there, as you know me to be, if there was anything more to learn. I am here to find out if I am able to understand the ins and outs of things. After all of us were lined up he said “Now for the crack squad. Number one can remain,” which happened to be me. Now I am not bragging myself up, but if army life was all like that, one and a half hours of work, I could remain in it for all my life. But of course dear, I would want you along by my side. A few of the men are dissatisfied with the work being given, but I work with a man who has worked with cement all his life and I try to learn all I can from him. Everywhere he goes, I try to be with him. Work is becoming more and more interesting each day, and I am becoming more and more used to this life.
But listen to me, it was hard to go and leave you dear. Not that I was afraid that you would not remain true, but the thought of breaking off so suddenly and being deprived of your friendship and love. I used to think that a fellow’s friendship was the only thing I could imagine, but that was proven false. I have found that the best friendship and love has come from the opposite sex. Above it all, it has come from you, dear, which to me is the best in the world. I really did not think I could be attached to one person as I have been with you, but I surely have. I have not been away long yet, but I wish I could just step back into your life for about 10 minutes. I would make the time worth it. Not the words, but the actions.
It makes me homesick as I sit here and listen to the music upstairs. We have a pianist and two good violinists. They have been playing all the time I have been writing you. Most of the songs, you have on the Victor. So you see we are not without music, if it is nothing but my own voice. Now they are playing Poor Butterfly.
I received a letter from my other girl, Bertha, today. I have written to Jay, Viola, and Mary and Irvin but have not received any answers yet. I think I will have time to write to Mabel, Elna, and Ward. Say, dear, eat even more for me, for I have never had such an appetite in my life.
You will get tired reading all of this trash, so I must close for now. My exam is coming up. Now, dearie, please go and have a good time. I see a few girls here, but, oh, how they look! Not for me. Just you, dear, and one round and everlasting k_ _ _.
Your ever loving Sweetheart,
Henry
FYI:
Poor Butterfly
from the opera
Madam Butterfly
There's a story told of a little Japanese.
Sitting demurely 'neath the cherry blossom trees.
Miss Butterfly's her name.
A sweet little innocent child was she
'Till a fine young American from the sea
To her garden came.
They met 'neath the cherry blossoms everyday.
And he taught her how to love the American way.
To love with her soul t'was easy to learn.
Then he sailed away with a promise to return.
Poor butterfly
'Neath the blossoms waiting.
Poor Butterfly
For she loved him so.
The moments pass into hours.
The hours pass into years.
And as she smiles through her tears,
She murmurs low:
The moon and I know that he'll be faithful
I'm sure he'll come to me by and by.
But if he won't come back then I'll never sigh or cry,
I just must die.
Poor butterfly.
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