The following letter is writing by N. C. Kuske from Ellington Field, Houston, Texas, September 21^st, 1918

Friend Foster;

Arrived here, one of the largest flying fields of its kind in the world, last week, as just getting settles and hope to go up in a plane for the first time soon.

We are in the cotton and rice belt of Texas, about half way between Houston and Galveston. The soil is the good rich old Texas gumbo that Ernest Pless used to tell us about, and being only about 15 feet above the sea level has a tendency to grab all the water it can and to hang onto it, and then to everything else it can. However, where the post is, this is of no account. Our American engineers have thoroughly drained it, and to hold up the monster khaki colored army trucks a network of reads and streets have been built that are better than concrete pavements and much cheaper, being constructed out of crushed oyster shells hauled from the Gulf of Mexico.

Our little city here has its own electric light and water plants and its own bakery. It is laid out along regular and scientific lines and is very particular as to what strangers she lets in her gates.

The climate is excellent. It took about three days to shake the woolen clothes and to thin the blood. The days are warm, the thermometer crawling up pretty high, but the gulf breeze makes it fine. The nights are just right, we can retire and slumber peaceful wrapped only in the folds of Nature.

Our squadron is housed in large and comfortable wooden barracks. We are frequently inspected, at times unknown to us in advance, to see that we keep our quarters neat and clean, and observe rules of personal cleanliness. Our own mess hall is close and flies are conspicuous for the South. It is accomplished only by thorough sewage and the greatest of care in the disposal of garbage and other waste products of the post. Our cooks have to keep their kitchens absolutely spotless, or woe unto them. The grub agrees with me too, as I have gained 12 pounds. They give us plenty of it. It is clean, a great variety and well cooked, but if you try to waste any, you’ll find somebody on your neck good and stiff.

So far I have liked the life fine and it seems to agree with all the men, although homesickness claims its victims here and there. Two big Y.M.C.A.’s and a Baptist Church Enlisted Men’s Club are doing wonderful work in this direction, with their Bible Classes and social activities. The Y.M.C.A. as you see, furnishes the soldier’s popular stationery, and I am obeying the injunction “Help your County by Saving, write on Both Sides of This Paper.” Pvt. Nat. C. Kuske, 250 Aero Squadron