Minnie writes me that she hopes the quarantine will be lifted soon so she can visit Camp Funston.
Addressed to Mr. Ward C. Griffing, 25th Company, 164th Depot Brigade, Camp Funston, Kansas
October 3, 1918
I sure am feeling blue tonight here. I have just been carried away with expectations for this weekend. The first blow came this noon. I was sure expecting a letter from you, and the mail man always comes before or at noon. Well today he didn’t come till about two o’clock. Then I sent one of the boys out just a hiking. I couldn’t hardly teach I was so anxious for that mail man to come. Then Ora [Condry] came in empty handed. Well, I began to think then that maybe you were quarantined, you having said what you did in your last letter. Tonight when I came home, I grabbed the paper and there it said that married men were coming to Manhattan just the same, but single men could not leave camp or visitors were not allowed at camp. I don’t see why they won’t let boys that live at Manhattan come just the same as married men – it’s all the same if they go right to their homes.
I’m just hoping and praying that by Sunday the quarantine will be lifted. That’s my only hope now. If I’m disappointed this time, I’m not going to look for you any more, if I can help it. I want to just try to give it up. If you do get to come all right, I’ll be mighty glad. If you don’t, why it will be just what I expected and I won’t feel so bad, but I’m going to try not to plan on it anymore.
I didn’t even hear from the folks. I sent for two books for the fifth grade and we thought they would come yesterday, and today I was sure they would come but didn’t even get a letter from the folks saying why they didn’t send them. They are the classics books that are just out and we have to get them in Manhattan. I wrote Monday and told the folks to send them. They can do that alright. But I don’t understand at all why I haven’t heard.
We are going to have a genuine cleaning at school house tomorrow evening. A couple of the children are going to stay and help me mop the floor – it gets so dreadfully dusty even if I do sweep it good every night.
I had the awfullest dream last night about you. I don’t see what made me dream it unless I ate too much meat for supper. I’ll not write it -- it’s too gruesome (I don’t know how to spell that [word] but I guess you can sound it out and you’ll know what I meant for it).
Ward, if you aren’t too busy, won’t you write? Even if you can’t send letters to me now, then send them all together when the quarantine is lifted? I sure wish you would if you can.
With worlds of love for you Boy, -- Minnie G. Frey
The papers sure sound good about the war over there. Turkey, I guess, will give it up pretty soon now, and the Yanks are sure driving in fast on all the western fronts. The Germans can’t hold them at all anywhere. I’m sure mighty happy over the way things are going.
Friday noon: The mail man hasn’t come yet so I thought I would just add a little. It’s just awfully windy today. I bet it blows up a rain. I don’t know whether the folks will risk coming for me or not. I won’t care so awfully much if they don’t. I won’t be able to see you and I would miss you more at home than I would up here. Then I would like to go over to Grand View tonight. There’s a bunch of kids up here that go over to Camp Funston about twice a week to see Clint Scott. I’m anxious to get acquainted with them and maybe they’ll ask me to go along if they find out I have a friend over there. I sure hope you’ll get to stay at Camp Funston. I bet you’ll be lonesome, boy. You’re probably getting pretty tired of that camp. I’m sure sorry you can’t come home Sunday. – M. G. F.