The following letter under date of September 2 has been received by Mr. Edgar Lytle from Mr. Albert S. Lutz:
Were it not for a
wrong policy of procrastination that I of late had been pursuing you would have
heard from me ‘ere today. At that, Ed, I have been quite busy and this is the
first decent opportunity I have had to drop you a line and I mean to take
advantage of it.
Since leaving Camp
Devens, we have done considerable traveling and as you know for our own
protection we are not permitted to mention many of the details. These are
usually the most interesting and it looks like another case of forbidden fruit.
I am glad to say
that I am very well and never felt better in my life and hope that you and all
the rest of the folks back home are also well and happy.
We had a rather
tedious trip across the pond and we are mighty glad that that part of our
program is over. We sailed under the Union Jack and were quite crowded, and the
general accommodations were not of the best. Hammocks were given us to sleep in
and we hung them anywhere we could. It isn’t a thing that was much cherished by
us, believe me, Ed. There were some U.S. submarine destroyers with our convoy
and I tell you the Stars and Stripes never did look so good. We had some
trouble with our undersea “friends” and we gave one and possibly four a watery
grave. This was our first touch of reality and I can tell you it is different
than reading of it in the papers.
On arrival the
English people gave us a fine reception. We had a parade through one of the
large cities and everywhere we were given a royal welcome. After being on the
sea for several weeks it felt like the earth was coming up to meet our feet. We
were indeed a happy band on that first afternoon of our visit abroad. While in
England we visited many places of interest, among them a Cathedral part of
which was built by the monks over 1,100 years ago. I am glad I had this
opportunity to hear and view all this stuff because even as historical facts
they interest me much. However, we were unlucky in encountering rainy and
generally disagreeable weather and we were glad to leave.
We came to France
on a fine big American boat. On board I met a friend of mine from Richmond,
Va., who is one of the stewards. He soon proved his friendship by bringing us
six real American ham sandwiches and believe me, that was the best mouthful I
had since leaving the states. He certainly did make it nice for several of us
and I won’t forget him soon. Wish we could have made the entire trip on Yankee
boards.
After a long hike
to British rest camp and an all day and night ride in side-door Pullmans, we
reached oru present destination. At one point of our trip we were within five
miles of Paris. Enroute we saw soldiers and sailors of many countries in
multi-colored uniforms. French soldiers with large red pom-poms on round black
tame-shanters [tam o shanter] and soldiers from Tunis, a French colony in
northern Africa, with tall tasseled fezs certainly make a striking appearance.
I hope they are as striking in action. We also passed a large concentration
camp worked by German prisoners. They looked very tame and much subdued. They
bear large colored patches so they can be detected easily if an attempt to
escape was made. At that I think they are more contented as our prisoners than
back in their own ranks.
We are billeted in
a barn, in a small town and though it is a barn it is a pretty comfortable
home. Our sharp hip-bones are well rounded and it does not make much difference
where or what we sleep on. We like the French people very much, and from their
actions I believe they take to us pretty well too. I can now understand why
they acquire the reputation of being the most polite nation. Ignorance of the
language is quite a handicap and I am making an honest-to-goodness effort for a
speaking vocabulary. You would laugh yourself sick to watch some of the antics
we go through trying to make the natives understand us. They seem to be
surprised that we do not understand them though they speak slowly and very
distinctly and loud. We are not having nearly the amount of trouble with their
francs and centimes as we did with the crowns and shillings of England. I
dollar is worth five francs and 70 centimes.
Wine and liquor
establishments are in abundance here. We are allowed to partake of light wines
and peer and though permitted to drink no water except that which has been
filtered by us, I can’t say we miss it much. We are getting great chow now.
Here is the menu of yesterday, September 1, 1918:
Breakfast: Bacon
and eggs, French fried potatoes, toast, butter, stewed prunes, coffee and
bread;
Dinner: beef steak,
boiled potatoes, friend onions, rice pudding, bread, butter and coffee.
Supper: beef-stew,
beans, bread and ice cream.
That is pretty
good, isn’t it? It would do your heart good to see us do away with it.
What we have seen
of this country is very beautiful. Hardly ever do we see a man, irresptctive of
age, who is not in uniform. This is harvest time and the fields are in fine
shape considering that they have been worked by women. Much credit is due them.
The weather here
has been intensely hot. The early mornings are quite cold, though, and it
always appears like rain is threatening. It has rained only once since we have
been in France, which is nearly a month. We make our toilet in a river nearby.
This affords us much comfort during these hot days.
Isn’t the war news
these days exhilarating? Say, aren’t we giving them H____ everywhere?
Pershing’s “Hell, Heaven or Hoboken by Christmas” looms up more of a possible
probability every day. Say, Ed, the war news is grand, but the best news I have
had since my arrival over here was 10 or 12 Hickory Daily Records which were
sent me from Camp Devens and they were most two months old but were good just
the same.
By the way, what
kind of a souvenir do you want me to bring you from Berlin? Our Major has taken
over a French hospital. We get a great many first-hand stories from the front
from the boys who have been wounded. You would be surprised at the anxiety that
most of them express to get back to the front. I have been the supply sergeant
for the hospital.
Well, I think in
part that I have made up for the delay in writing you earlier. My head just
swims when I think of the things I could tell you about, but must refrain so as
not to offend the censor. Give my kindest regards to all the folks,
Sergt. Albert S.
Lutz
Camp Hospital No.
57
American Ex. Forces
A.P.O. No. 773
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