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Dear Cous and Marcia How you all this lousy Sunday morning? Off with the blinders and on with the free pen again. Here comes the facts per usual for your special perusal, as your letters are radically suffering from the rest of the families as you probably have noticed. The first sergeant and we still at it, the only trouble is that I am becoming punch drunk from taking it. [crossed out word] He is winning all the physical victories, and I the moral ones. Friday night I was blessed with canteen guard from five to nine in the evening. They gave me a pistol and stationed me at at the door. My job was to see that everyone was properly dressed and not too much maize was made. No fatigue or civilian clothes can be worn, and a hat and tie must be on, and all buttons buttoned. As for the privates, most of the time I was blind except when they were in fatigue and civilians. In that case, I played errand boy and got them whatever they needed or wanted. However, I did my duty with gusto where a non-commissioned or commissioned officer came in. I nabbed two lieutenants and a captain and had the pleasure of watching them button up and straighten ties. I got a little drunk on Tonic, drinking about eight bottles in the interval, nanging the scale