DEAR MOTHER:--

After finishing my letter at the farmhouse last night, and getting from
the good woman my second pair of dry stockings, I put on everything warm
that I had, and went to bed. Fires were burning everywhere, with little
groups of talking men around them; but the camp settled down very
quickly. It pleased me to hear the first sergeant rounding up men to help
in unloading the overcoats; but then I slept, and except for periods when
I woke in the night and as usual told time by Orion, I slept sound. The
men are all declaring that they slept well, all but one man, who said he
was miserably cold, and looks it. It _was_ a cold night, with a heavy
frost forming even inside my tent, and ice in my canteen when I tried to
drink from it this morning. But now, warm and full, I am very
comfortable, waiting for the call at 9.45 to go out and inspect the
outposts which the first battalion are now setting. The captain has been
up and down the street, inquiring how we are; he stopped to speak to me,
feeling, I think, less constraint with me than he used.

It was very busy in camp for an hour after breakfast. Men were cleaning
their shoes--and some were mourning over them, not having taken warning
against leaving them too close to the fire, when though the leather may
not be really burned it will lose its life and crack. Others were
spreading blankets and clothes to dry, preparing the short pack (without
the roll) for our tour of inspection, recleaning rifles, shaving, mending
their clothes. Smoke is now drifting from a hundred fires, and towels and
underwear are spread on the tents or flapping from improvised clothes
lines. But the camp is slowly settling down into quiet, for work is done,
the sun keeps us warm, and everybody is quite content.

I have just listened to the story that Newbold, the corporal of Squad
Nine, tells of the fetching of the overcoats. On arriving at camp
yesterday, wet through, he found that the new shoes which he bought at
the camp exchange in Plattsburg just before leaving for the hike, were
too small, and asked the captain's permission to go to the village here
and try to get another pair. The captain, after finding out his need,
said "You can change them in Plattsburg. Be ready in five minutes to
start with the truck." So Newbold found himself in command of a five-ton
truck, wallowing through these roads till they struck the macadam,
forty-five miles in all to Plattsburg. There he presented