318 M.G. Bn
U.S.A. P.O. No. 791
Dear Editor:
Have you just a little space in your paper which you have no
material to fill? If so, just insert these few lines to avoid a space. You
can’t guess how much I’d give tonight to see a copy of the Journal. Not a
single advertisement would escape me. Occasionally I see a copy of the New York
Herald published in Paris. But our dependence is largely upon French papers.
Through that avenue, I am able to understand that the war has not yet ended.
The boys, whose letters I spend a good portion of my spare time censoring, seem
to have got the news somewhere that the war will soon be over. I should be
pleased if they have the right “dope,” but I do not have enough faith in their information
to put out a hint for someone to invite me to a Christmas dinner, or a Fourth
of July dinner. In “La Petit Parisien” of today I notice that it is estimated
that on September the 12th 13 million more men in the U.S. will
register for service in the great cause. No one uses the expression “If we win
the war.” One hears only “When we Win” or “After we have won.” It is not a
question of winning, but one of winning as early as possible.
I should be very glad to give you a full account of
everything that has happened to us since we left Augusta, but that must be
reserved until after the war. We’ll have many things to tell then, provided you
don’t ask us to take an oath on the veracity of our statements.
About all I can tell you now is that we had a safe journey
across the Atlantic, traveled through England by rail, crossed the channel
somewhere, and are now billeted in that well-known place, “Somewhere in
France.” That is rather indefinite, but you’ll have to let your imagination
supply the missing links.
Our battalion is billeted in a very old French village in
the heart of a farming section. Unlike our farmers, over here they all live in
a village located centrally for all. The harvesting season was on when we came
here. The chief crops here are wheat, oats and hay. The wagons on which the
farm products are brought to the barns have only two wheels and are drawn by
one horse usually. One never sees two horses abreast as in the U.S. In case
there are two or three horses, they are in single file. Our country is new, to
be sure, but we are far ahead of anything I have observed over here in the
farming line. But, on the other hand, we could learn many lessons in
conservation from our Allies. Here nothing is wasted, even the small limbs of
trees are bound together and used for wood. I have seen women gleaning in the
wheat fields after the harvesters had finished. Everybody works over here too.
The pretty girls one sees at church on Sundays are observed in the fields on
week days, wearing heavy shoes and serviceable dresses. There is a win-the-war
spirit prevalent in every home. No more big-hearted, hospitable people can be
found anywhere than here in this little village. So far as hospitality goes, it
seems I am in Western N.C. It is somewhat more difficult to make your wishes
known, but we have several good interpreters; so we get on very well. We are
all trying to learn French, but it is pretty slow work. Sunday evening, after I
had passed a compliment upon the little daughter of the Madame where I was
visiting, the mother said to me “Vous parley francais tres bien.” If you don’t
understand this, get an interpreter. That’s what we have to do in such cases.
Thanks to Prof. Dean and my French teachers at U.N.C., I am able to understand
some simple phrases and to make myself understood—sometimes.
I must stop now and study for awhile. If you see any of my
friends who do not read the Journal,
give them my best wishes and tell them I am in good health and safe for the
present. A letter from anyone would be greatly appreciated. It has been more
than a month since I have had a letter.
With best wishes to all in Jackson,
John O. Wood
1st. Lt.
Inf. U.S.A.
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