Letters From “Somewhere in France”
France, Oct. 16, 1918
My Dearest Mother:
A rainy, muddy spell has evidently set in, but you can rest assured that
my feet will be kept dry, as I have just been issued a new pair of “English”
shoes, which are heavier than any you have ever seen. Every time the
thermometer goes down 2 degrees I expect to put on another pair of socks. The
peace talks certainly give us consolation. We are giving the Huns a safe and
sane thrashing.
Recently there have been many bets in our detachment as to when the war
will finally end. The odds are two to one that the war will end by Christmas,
with very little money in sight for the war to last until Christmas. Money has
less value here than anywhere I have been. We have recently been paid off and
we haven’t had time to spend our July money. A train load of chocolate here
would easily bring cinq francs, or one dollar a block. Chocolate or any kind of
sweets is very much in demand. Y.M.C.A. canteens keep it occasionally, but as a
rule they are several miles off, and automobiles are “finis.”
If Jerry
evacuates we will have some time following him up. I suppose we can make a
hundred miles in six or eight days. I hate the idea of a hundred mile trip;
nevertheless, anything to liberate France of those barbarians. We ae all
planning a great trip, some 3,000 miles over a big rough ocean. It will be a
great and glorious trip, although it will in all probability be made in a
cattle boat. We will, I guess, land in New York and about two weeks before
Easter and be mustered out and home before Easter. I have traveled far and wide
but this is the greatest and most longed-for trip I ever expect to take. I will
be sufficiently tamed to settle down in a lonely spot for life. I will care no
more for travel, but will love “to live by the side of the road and be a friend
to man.” Well, it is all right, but the promised land has certainly been made
the land that God forgot by the “Beasts of Berlin.”
France deserves all the
sympathy we can possibly give her and then some. She has been a victim of
circumstances, and then, too, she has certainly put up her share of fighting
under the strain of destruction. You can read the above in most any paper, but
it helps to fill up space and filling up space is all right, when you are
writing in a kitchen full of cooks and gossipers. If I say most anything I
think, I’ll have a perfectly good excuse for it. Don’t you think?
Artiller has been very quiet for the last few nights, so with only
“cooties” to trouble me, I have put in some good sleep. As lights can’t be had
unless carefully concealed, there is very little amusement at night, so we
usually turn in by six any way, or earlier if it happens to be cold. During the
last nine days, our division has advanced 20 miles, captured 3,500 prisoners,
quantities of war material, and liberated 3,000 French refugees. What do you
think of that? Fine record, isn’t it?
With love for all,
Devotedly,
John Burt
-=-
“Somewhere Across”
October 7, 1918
Dear Mother,
After a lively week I will try to write you a short letter as I know you
are anxious about your boy.
I guess you all have read in the papers about the big battle of Sept. 29th.
Well, I was right in it, and believe me I had a lively time of it, but Mother I
came out as safe and sound as when I entered. That day’s experience has taught
me a lesson. It has brought me closer to God, although I have never been a bad
fellow.
On that day I realized what the power of the “Almighty” meant. Just
remember the date, Sept. 29th, Sunday.
I feel like it will not be long before I can be with you folks at home,
and tell you face to face of my personal experience.
I have not seen any of the home boys for a long time as I have just been
in it, but the last time I saw the fellows they were all well.
Today is a rest day with me, and I am resting too, you bet. It is real
cloudy and cold and it looks as if it should rain before night. I should worry
for as long as I have a hole to crawl into.
We are at present camped along a hillside where just a week ago, today,
the Germans had a camp. We have dug holes in the hillside and covered them with
wood and dirt. They make us a very snug little house but the ground rats keep
you company. Last night I could not sleep (altho tired) for the rats. They
knocked about a peck of dirt in my face.
We are very close to the front yet, but everything is as quiet as a
small little home on Sunday afternoon.
I have been real lucky with mail. Always a letter from home, and some
nice girl. I received a letter from Beulah Cooper today and must say I was very
much surprised. It was one of the nicest letters I have received from anyone.
Mail is the only thing we fellows can look for every day.
Mother, please do not worry about me, for I will soon be coming home.
Old “Jerry” is about to give up.
Tell the folks at home to keep on writing to the boys “over there.”
Your loving son,
Joseph W. Hale
Co. F, No. 749
American Expeditionary Forces
-=-
Somewhere in France
October 18, 1918
Dear Mama:
While there seems to be a lull in the work I have been having to do for
a few days I am going to try and write you a few lines. I really don’t write as
often as I should, but if you only knew how busy we are most all the time you
wouldn’t blame us for going to bed just as soon as we possibly can; and about
all we do here is work, eat and sleep, but I guess that is about all the folks
back home are doing these days so we shouldn’t kick, when it’s over we won’t
mind doing things like we used to.
Well, what do you reckon? I saw Mrs. Bickett the other day. I was never
so glad to see anybody in all my life, and she seemed equally as glad to see
me. I heard that she was in town and that she was coming out to see us if she
could get a way to come, but transportation looked so doubtful that I had
already secured a pass to go over and see her when I saw her drive up in a big
car. I didn’t see very much of her, as her time was very limited, but it did me
a world of good to see somebody from home, but to think of our former next door
neighbor being way over here made me a little home sick. She said she was going
back to Louisburg just as soon as she got back to
The line at the end of this column said the story was continued in the
second section of the paper, but instead of a second section, the Nov. 15 issue
is in its place. I’m sorry to leave the letter like this, but it can’t be
helped.
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