CG Camp [sic], Benezett, Pa.

Scoopla de Benezette

The men of Co. 303, Benezette, don’t seem to like the new kind of Saturday “liver.”

First cook Earl Ball fixed up a hasty looking dish for supper that looked very much like small fried steaks smothered in onions. As the platter was passed down the tables, the fellows helped themselves to generous slices of the ‘steak’ and filled their anxious mouths with big bites.

As they speedily chewed their first mouthfuls their expressions changed from delight to something relative to dissatisfaction. The ‘steak’ to their surprise had turned to be liver (slightly overcooked.) Apparently the cooks had followed the Ole Army cooking rules “when it’s smoking it’s cooking, when it’s black it’s done.”

The ‘Hill Billies’ got a real kick out of the surprise and later Ball showed the boys that liver can be as good as steak anyday.

With the coming of the new year we received a new crew of ‘rookies’ who are to replace the ‘fifteen monthers’ who recently were honorably discharged due to the expiration of their term in the CCC. The tender-ones arrived about 5:30 GM, CC Time. One of the boys mashed his foot before he had reached the campus and as a result he [had] to have his toe nail removed. We call him lucky. He is one fellow the ‘Sarg’ can’t put to work. After drawing his final winter supplies one of the rookies struggled away from the supply office not knowing he was dragging his clean bed linen. One of his buddies called to him, “Hey, you dropped something.” The boy turned to see what he had dropped and saw his sheets dragging the ground. As he stopped to pick them up he dropped something else. His friend saw that he was having a terrible time and advanced to his aid. After he had gotten halfway he stopped and with a mischievous smile he said, “Sorry, ol’ man, but you are in the Army now.” And he turned and walked away leaving his friend there to struggle for himself. That’s the life of the CCC boy.

Grin. Oliver after having been notified that he was to serve as KP on Sunday wrote home and says “Dear Sis: I am to be kitchen police Sunday and I’m expecting plenty of trouble.” Sis writes back and says “Please don’t arrest anyone unless you have to.”

They tell me that somebody hit (truck-drunk) Monroe on the head with a toy truck and told him that he could drive. Everytime he passes Mr. Weasner, who is a forester, he throws up both hands toward heaven.

In the movies it’s the barnyard quartett, but you should hear our kitchen quartett. Their favorite song is “The Lost Chord.”

If WB received a mysterious letter from a stranger, don’t be alarmed. The Lonesome Lover has seen her photo and has gone so far as to investigate her address. He is known to seldom fail. It has been learned that a certain ‘civic’ who is under age (as it is ruled by cupid) has been writing to somebody’s sister-in-law. ‘You Viper.’