Hendersonville Boy With Engineering Corps Writes Interestingly of his Observations and Experiences in France; Tells of Peculiar Customs of the French but Can’t Tell Them Anything About Sawing Wood
The letter herewith from Walter B. Smith, ‘somewhere in France,’ the son of Hon. and Mrs. W.A. Smith of Hendersonville, is quite interesting in its dealings with soldiery, peculiarities and customs of the French people.
Walter is master engineer of the 17th Engineering Corps and a member of the regimental staff. Before enlisting in Jacksonville, Fla., last June, he was with the traction company of that city. He took his examination at Atlanta and after about a month embarked at New York for Europe. Walter enjoys life in France, but his people know not where since the censor allows no intimation of location in the letters. He is doubtless in Southern France, judging from his description of the growing flowers.
His letter will be of interest alike to friends and those who do not know him personally but want some first-hand information about a soldier’s life in France and the peculiar customs.
Nov. 16, 1917
Dear Father:
I know that my friends and those who on account of age or conditions can never hope to cross “over here,” would like to know a few of those things that a soldier will find. Your paper gives the military conditions better than we could even if we knew much more than we do. The censors are very liberal and we can write almost all that we care to. Of course, we would not wish to give military information even if allowed. I will try to give in a brief way those little things that may be of interest to those who are coming or sending someone to do their “bit.”
We are allowed to tell of our parade through London, which was of great interest to us. The papers there have given the details with good description. You see we get them all over here even though they be a little late. You can imagine even though you are one of many, how it would feel to march before millions of people and their kin, and to be their guest with a reception line ten miles long, and a dinner at the end.
There seems to be a strong contrast between England with her multitude of brick houses, villages and cities of real old castles and the vast stretch of green fields that bring the dots of colors out more strongly; and France, with houses of old stone surrounded by wonderful little walled-in gardens with lazy windmills and attractive country estates here and there in a country whose natural landscape is more like the one we all love so much. In France you cannot help but feel the spirit of the wonderful romantic and historical experiences that she has had.
Among many of those peculiarities that make up the customs of these heroic people that have won the admiration of the world, I will mention only a few that to me seem entirely different from ours. If one is to ride as the citizens of the rural districts do, it must be in big two-wheel carts, many of them heavy and comfortable. Often you will see two, three or four horses spike team pulling a heavy two-wheel load but seldom do you see horses working abreast.
Bread is sold from carts by girls who give slices of bread instead of change, when one buys by the loaf. Those who work oxen have a yoke that is attached to the horns by strips of rawhide and the animal is protected by strips of sheep skin around the horns. They think it funny that we use a yoke and bows around the ox’s neck.
The farmers roll their furrows, that have been thrown up, with an iron or wooden roller that is shaped like a spool, and when the ground is planted the field, while in ridges, they are round and as regular and smooth as corduroy cloth.
It is amusing to see a Frenchman eat bread, cutting small pieces from a larger one which he holds just as we do an apple and the pieces are cut and eaten in small sizes and shapes that only one eating an apple with a pocket knife can imitate.
When it comes to sawing wood you would never guess that they hold the saw firmly between their legs and move the wood instead of the saw. I thought I would teach one the best way, but there were two saws and in the end he convinced me that his sticks came off quicker.
I have seen many places in France, have marched in parades where flags were flying from every window under arches of evergreens and have seen thousands of flowers strewn along the line of our march. Through hundreds of miles and among thousands of soldiers and citizens, I have never seen an American strike nor even quarrel with a Frenchman, for they are comrades indeed.
I could write much of the good food, fine fruits and wonderful flowers of France, but you see there is something that I do not write of and that is my work. I must stop soon for the bugle will blow and I must be doing “my bit.”
There is one little thing that I must mention and that is that while not used for other purposes the French women roll their baby carriages empty to the stores and markets, returning to their homes with their purchases mounted high, and even the babies have done “their bit” by staying at home.
You may tell my friends that I am well looked after every way but that letters are the only things that our dear old Uncle Sam cannot send; and it is the one thing that we like best. For each one I send the best Xmas wishes from “Somewhere in France.”
Sincerely, Walter B. Smith
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