TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DEQUEEN BEE MARCH 28, 1919 P. 4
My Dearest Mother:
We are now right in Tours, in Beaumont Barracks, which is an old French army post, established long before the war, I should imagine. Tours seems to be one of the most important places in France. This post is well walled in: and there is one iron gate at the front, where a guard is always kept, so that there is no danger of anybody going in or out without being observed.
Our detachment has been attached to a sort of temporary squadron here. This means that we live in its barracks, feed with them, take orders from its officers and non-coms., and do odd fatighe work and other things that come up. It's not just what you would call the "life of Riley." But there is one compensation. We can get a theatre pass every night allowing us to be out until midnight. When you remember that it is only a few minutes walk down to the main part of town, this is worth a lot. When we were out at the last place, the 2nd A.I.C., we could only get off on Saturday and Sunday and then for a very limited time. There are generally two or three shows through the week which are free to the A.E.F. Each one runs for several nights, a new one being put on weekly as a general thing, I think. Tom Gilley and I went down to a concert that the 11th Marine band was running at the Municipal Theatre the night before last. They played a selection from the "Red Mill," and there was a piccolo solo, "La Tourterelle," which must be French for the "Turtle Dove" the record we have. I liked these two and the vocal stuff, and the jazz band, too. The jazz band was made up of a piano, fiddle, banjo, a drum and some other clattering instrument, and a "bazooka." This last was a kind of rubber funnel on the end of a rubber tube, and there is a slide on it like that on a trombone. The jazz band had plenty of pep and speed. But it was hard for me to enjoy most of the high class stuff.
Fresh start.
Yet another start.
You will see that this has been a very much hashed up letter. I have been on an orderly job for the last two or three days, and I can hardly get a respectable stretch of time to myself. But to go on with the theatre life. We have been down to the Trianon twice. (Am enclosing a couple of programs." The first one did not amount to much; so we didin't stay long, but the last one was much better, being very good in my "green" opinion. The chorus girls were W.A A C.'s (members of the British Women's Army Auxiliary Corps.) Most of them were very much amateurs, but there were two or three girls that were good. "Phoebe" was awfully sweet in singing "Frenchie." I think this has the tune of the Marseilles. Miss McCloud was fine. She must have been Scotch, for she looked and sounded it. She was brought back twice. She sang "Homeland," "Coming Through the Rye," and "Annie Laurie." "Instead of Snowdrop," the way it is generally given, she made it "Snowdreep." Everybody thought she was the best thing in the show. Another good thing was that for the last part of the second act, all the girls were in Turkish get-up.
To come back to more prosaic subjects.
I was cleaning out a wash-house for a little time after coming here. This took only a short while and left me the most of my time for myself. But good things don't last. Two of us were grabbed up for orderlies one afternoon, and since then it is "bell hopping" for me from morning till after supper. This seems to be Aid Service headquarters for the A.E.F. I am running errands for the office of the Assistant Chief of Staff. I am surprised to see how quickly clerical work is turned out.
The most of our detachment is cleaning out kitchen pans and peeling onions and potatoes. It looks as though it is going to "sweet" for us "to clean out sauce pans, and empty kitchen slops," from now until we get home.
They have a dandy Y.M.C.A. here. They are running quite a few school courses now. There is either movies or a lecture or something good every night. Last night there was boxing and wrestling, and a pie eating race. You have to bend down and eat the pie hog fashion, without using your hands. Did I tell you about the feeding that the "Y," the Red Cross and K. of C. gave us at Christmas? There were Christmas boxes everywhere. You had to stand in line for two hours, beginning nearly a quarter of a mile away from the R.C. building, to get an R.C. kit. But it had plenty in it when you did get it. You drank a bowl of hot chocolate as you moved through the building itself, walking along, receiving stuff with one hand, and chocolate bowl in the other hand.
General Pershing is to be at this post tomorrow. There will probably be a review.
With very much love to father and yourself, from Your affectionate son,
Harvey Pirie,
496th Aero Sqd., A.P.O. 717, A.E.F.
NOTES: This letter was written by L. Harvey Pirie.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
My Dearest Mother:
We are now right in Tours, in Beaumont Barracks, which is an old French army post, established long before the war, I should imagine. Tours seems to be one of the most important places in France. This post is well walled in: and there is one iron gate at the front, where a guard is always kept, so that there is no danger of anybody going in or out without being observed.
Our detachment has been attached to a sort of temporary squadron here. This means that we live in its barracks, feed with them, take orders from its officers and non-coms., and do odd fatighe work and other things that come up. It's not just what you would call the "life of Riley." But there is one compensation. We can get a theatre pass every night allowing us to be out until midnight. When you remember that it is only a few minutes walk down to the main part of town, this is worth a lot. When we were out at the last place, the 2nd A.I.C., we could only get off on Saturday and Sunday and then for a very limited time. There are generally two or three shows through the week which are free to the A.E.F. Each one runs for several nights, a new one being put on weekly as a general thing, I think. Tom Gilley and I went down to a concert that the 11th Marine band was running at the Municipal Theatre the night before last. They played a selection from the "Red Mill," and there was a piccolo solo, "La Tourterelle," which must be French for the "Turtle Dove" the record we have. I liked these two and the vocal stuff, and the jazz band, too. The jazz band was made up of a piano, fiddle, banjo, a drum and some other clattering instrument, and a "bazooka." This last was a kind of rubber funnel on the end of a rubber tube, and there is a slide on it like that on a trombone. The jazz band had plenty of pep and speed. But it was hard for me to enjoy most of the high class stuff.
Fresh start.
Yet another start.
You will see that this has been a very much hashed up letter. I have been on an orderly job for the last two or three days, and I can hardly get a respectable stretch of time to myself. But to go on with the theatre life. We have been down to the Trianon twice. (Am enclosing a couple of programs." The first one did not amount to much; so we didin't stay long, but the last one was much better, being very good in my "green" opinion. The chorus girls were W.A A C.'s (members of the British Women's Army Auxiliary Corps.) Most of them were very much amateurs, but there were two or three girls that were good. "Phoebe" was awfully sweet in singing "Frenchie." I think this has the tune of the Marseilles. Miss McCloud was fine. She must have been Scotch, for she looked and sounded it. She was brought back twice. She sang "Homeland," "Coming Through the Rye," and "Annie Laurie." "Instead of Snowdrop," the way it is generally given, she made it "Snowdreep." Everybody thought she was the best thing in the show. Another good thing was that for the last part of the second act, all the girls were in Turkish get-up.
To come back to more prosaic subjects.
I was cleaning out a wash-house for a little time after coming here. This took only a short while and left me the most of my time for myself. But good things don't last. Two of us were grabbed up for orderlies one afternoon, and since then it is "bell hopping" for me from morning till after supper. This seems to be Aid Service headquarters for the A.E.F. I am running errands for the office of the Assistant Chief of Staff. I am surprised to see how quickly clerical work is turned out.
The most of our detachment is cleaning out kitchen pans and peeling onions and potatoes. It looks as though it is going to "sweet" for us "to clean out sauce pans, and empty kitchen slops," from now until we get home.
They have a dandy Y.M.C.A. here. They are running quite a few school courses now. There is either movies or a lecture or something good every night. Last night there was boxing and wrestling, and a pie eating race. You have to bend down and eat the pie hog fashion, without using your hands. Did I tell you about the feeding that the "Y," the Red Cross and K. of C. gave us at Christmas? There were Christmas boxes everywhere. You had to stand in line for two hours, beginning nearly a quarter of a mile away from the R.C. building, to get an R.C. kit. But it had plenty in it when you did get it. You drank a bowl of hot chocolate as you moved through the building itself, walking along, receiving stuff with one hand, and chocolate bowl in the other hand.
General Pershing is to be at this post tomorrow. There will probably be a review.
With very much love to father and yourself, from Your affectionate son,
Harvey Pirie,
496th Aero Sqd., A.P.O. 717, A.E.F.
NOTES: This letter was written by L. Harvey Pirie.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD