Letters From France
In France
October 24, 1918
Dear Mother:
Yours receivd with much pleasure. Don’t think any of your letters have been lost, however I don’t remember just how many I have received from you.
Since I wrote you last I have been traveling a great deal. The country, and the climate is about the same except it isn’t quite as mountainous here I don’t think.
We had our first air raid last night. At least it was the first one we have had at night. We have them often in day time. I mean it is some fun dodging bumps shooting in the air, all of them look like they are coming right over you, but they never come in a mile of us, but that is close enough to get the boys jumping under bushes and peeping out and so on. Now of course, I don’t get under any bushes myself, think I must be some kin to a mole, the way I haven’t found any ground so far that I couldn’t get out of sight in a very short while.
Yes, I must admit that there are lots of beautiful Mademoiselles over here, however, I haven’t seen one yet I would like to take back to America with me, even if I could. Really I enjoy trying to (Parley, Voo) their lingo, but seems like I make poor outs at it, some time.
It is raining here now as usual. The sunshiny days are few and far between.
I know Sig is some proud of his boy. It was quite a surprise to me. I hadn’t dreamed of such a thing. How ever, I’m glad it was a boy, he wanted one so bad. Know Helen is some cute. Wish I was there to fret her a little, as like it so well.
In regard to having my letters published, it doesn’t make the least bit of difference with me, but I don’t imagine anyone cares to read what little junk I write. Don’t have time to write much, what I do write, I have to get it standing up, laying down, one eye watching something, and so on.
I must close. Will promise to write as often as possible. Much love to all, I am
Lovingly,
Jake
Sgt. Rondie J. Hicks
Bat. A, 317th F.A.
American E.F. France, via New York
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Dearest Mother,
Just imagine one beautiful sunshine day in France.
I’ll declare it has been lonely all day I’ve been feeling so good all day. I haven’t took time to write any at all, and it is getting late in the afternoon now. I intended to write several letters today but most of the battery is resting today, and I think every one is enjoying it.
With the sun reflecting on the beautiful green grass, upon the high mountain peaks, and the band playing lonely U.S.A. Songs makes it seem almost like Paradise. These days don’t come so very often, neither do we get to listen at the music every day, but no matter how dark a day overtakes us there is always a “Y.M.” lady, or a good old French mother, ready to give us a word of encouragement, which means the world to us.
Really, I don’t know how to start to tell you about the people over here. However, their ways of living are quite different from ours. We seldom ever see a residence built beside the road, as we often used to see in the U.S. Instead, several of the farmers build their homes together, which makes a small village. These you will find every three or four kilometers, with a church in every one but very few schools.
Most every farmer has a rock fence around his farm for grazing his cattle. It is very little of the land they till, of course that is planted in wheat and oats. Horses are very scarce over here, therefore the people have to work cows. Lots of them work their milch cows all day then milk them at night just the same.
The French are very religious, at least they are faithful to what they call religion. They are all Catholics, and as I just told you they have a large nice church in each little village, which has a large clock on every side of the steeple, and a large bell inside. This is what the people work by. They ring the bell three times a day, morning, noon and night. That is unless there is a death or a birth in the village, when either of these occur they ring it all day and night too.
There is no use to tell you about the girls over here, because you know already that most of them are very attractive. I see lots of them I think I could like fine, but when I begin trying to (Parley Voo) her lingo I decide I haven’t got but a little while to stay. Therefore, you need not worry about having a French daughter-in-law.
I must stop. I hear Sgt. Lame calling me. Think he has some boys in the room he wants me to help give them a little “Black Annie.”
With many good wishes and lots of love, I am,
Lovingly
Jake
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October 24, 1918
Dearest Mother:
I wonder first how you all are getting on, and what you are doing these days. The weather here now is about like the last of November there. They say it usually starts to snowing here the third week in this month, and stays on the ground until spring. We should worry about that. We have all been issued hip rubber boots, and wool socks. I also have a nice room, with a big feather bed, gee! I don’t hardly know there is a war going on.
We are getting our over sea training now, we go to the front about three times a week. We have been making a good record too. Think we will soon be able to give the Boche their last roundup.
I often wish you could be here for a short while just to see the country and the people. Everything is so different from ours. Wherever you see a home it is large enough for the family, stock, cattle, hogs, and chickens. Ordinarily the family occupies one end of the house, the cows and horses the other. These people I’m rooming with have their cook room opposite their cow stalls, all they have to do is open one door in the cook room and walk right in the cow stalls to milk the cows. Now I can almost hear you say (rest of line obscured) house, but not at all. You would be surprised to know how nice they do keep their homes. Nothing stays in one of their rooms that isn’t absolutely clean.
There are four of us sergeants rooming here together, they exchange our bed clothes twice each week. I know we don’t soil them because we bathe, also change underwear twice a week. Now you can imagine about how nice they are over here.
There is one other thing that seems rather queer to us boys. That is working milch cows. They have quite a number of cows here and they work all of them. I have seen them work their best milch cows to a large plow all day, bring them in at night and milk them just like they had been grazing all day. I often think what would people think at home if they were to see someone plowing a cow that was giving milk.
I could write you lots more on different things, but I’m getting sleepy so I guess I had better stop. Kiss Helen for me, tell Kate I’ll write to her in a few days.
This leaves me all O.K. Write me as often as you can. I remain as ever
Your devoted son,
Jake
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Somewhere over here in a good old French home
October 30, 1918
My dearest Mamma:
I reckon you will laugh when you see the kind of paper I am using but it is the very best I can do this time. We are where we can’t get paper. Our Y.M.C.A. supply gave out last night. I got this by bowing and making signs to a good old French man. He has taken four of us in his home and made a good light for us, so I’m sitting in a chair writing on a table, with a gas light hanging in the center of the room.
I tell you we have been pushing old Jerry right along for the last month; it took us three days to hike from where we started to where we stopped. We had them going so fast they had but little time to shell the towns, so when we did get relieved up near the front for a few days rest we just dropped back in one of the towns they had evacuated. Believe me we fared good with beds to sleep on and stoves to have fires. In one place we found just lots of apples; believe me they did taste good.
I suppose you have been reading what the 30th Division has been doing. Well, I have been over the top 11 times and haven’t had a scratch yet, but on my way out the other night a shell fell in about 50 yards of the road. I heard a piece of shrapnel that sounded like it was coming my way, so I ducked my head just in time to catch it on my steel hat and save my shoulder. It probably would have hurt me real badly for it made a dent in my hat large enough to put an egg in, it also staggered me for a second, or more, I am a dodging many, myself.
We mean to keep the Germans going until they say they have had enough. Sometimes when we are in battle I think about the veterans of the Civil war and keep going.
Mamma, sometimes I think it is luck that has brought me safely through all these battles but when I stop and think seriously about it I know it is the work of God. I just feel like he is going with me all the way through over here and deliver me safely to my loved ones at home. I’ve nearly read my Testament through. I started at the first and am now reading the 3rd chapter of Thesis.
I received the letter from Grandma last week. She wrote me all the news. The next time you write send me a copy of the Franklin Times. I haven’t seen but one or two copies since I’ve been over here. I’ve also heard from Mrs. John Uzzell. She surely writes a good letter.
Had a letter from Wilson last night, said he was getting on just fine, hoped to be back with the Co., in a few days and I hope he will for I have been so lonesome since he has been gone. If it wasn’t for Cheatham don’t know what I would do. Though I like very man in the Co., there is no one that I can go to and talk like I can to “Bursh” and “Coz.”
Cheatham and I had for our supper last night a can of California peaches and some N.C. cake. Believe me, it was good.
Tell Dad I saw while in Liverpool a hogshead of tobacco made near home because it was shipped from Rocky Mount. The sun never sets on old N.C. products.
Lots and lots of love to every one of you.
Your son,
Alex W. Wilson
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