February 26, 1919 – Letter to Robert’s mother:
I would not have written home tonight but I have a bit of news. The papers say that the divisions will go home in the order that they came over. That means that we will go home sixth. That will be the first part of April. I hope to be mustered out by my birthday if possible. Then if I can have the “little green cottage” at Rebecca I’ll be “sitting pretty” as they say in the army.
Had my squad on detail all day today. Dug a latrine, hauled two carts of water from the next town, hauled rations + wood + coal. To make it worse it rained all day as usual.
Have not had much mail lately so have nothing to answer.
I took a bath today too. The water got cold just when I got well soaped up. One private took a bath yesterday and found to his surprise that he had three old suits of underwear on under the dirt. But all winter I have managed to get one good shower a week.
We fry potatoes nearly every night in the billet.
Your loving son, Rob.
I keep meaning to go back and count the number of times Robert has asked his mother and father about “the little green cottage.” The fact that they haven’t said “yes” yet just can’t be a good sign.
I’m pretty sure I have pictures of Robert, Elinore and Bob Jr. at the lake shortly after he got home, though.
Where was Robert today? See the timeline.