WWI Letters Home
Letters Home:
Brock Dyar
Edwards
Elliot
Greer Hardy
McDaniel Owens
Parker
Sewell Siler
Whitworth
These letters were transcribed verbatim and include the
original spelling and punctuation.
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Brock, Robert J.
"Robert J. Brock Writes Home Folks," Lavonia Times and Gauge
4 April 1919.
ROBERT J. BROCK WRITES HOME FOLKS.
March 8th, 1919.
Dear Father and Mother:
I am going to
write you a few lines and I suppose you will be surprised to hear that I am in a
hospital. I only have the mumps and am about over with them now. Otherwise I am
getting along finely. I can't say when I will be at home but I hope it will not
be long. The weather sure has been tough here but it is turning warmer now.
Write soon,
Your son, Robert J. Brock.
Co. A. 61 Inf. 5th Div.
A. P. O. 745 American E. F.
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Dyar, Carlyle
"Letter from Carlyle Dyar Who Was Wounded in France June
7," Carnesville Herald and Advance 25 July 1918.
Letter From Carlyle Dyar Who Was Wounded in France June 7.
"Somewhere in France"
June 18th, 1918.
My dear mother:
My dear mother:
I suppose you will be surprised that I can write so soon. My wound has
healed very fast and I can use my right hand but suppose it will be a month or
two before I can use my arm. The bullet went through the bicep muscle and there
was a small fracture of the bone but it has healed wonderfully and does not pain
me any more.
I congratulate myself every time I look at the other boys around me. My
wound seems so small compared with theirs.
I am really enjoying myself very much here in the hospital as we had worked
so hard for the last month or so that it was great to get a rest at last.
Am in one of the best hospitals in France and have received wonderful
attention.
Have several American visitors every day who keeps us supplied with books,
magazines, sweets and tobacco.
Miss Elzie Janis and other actresses come in and entertain us every day.
I suppose you read in the papers about what the Marines did. We went up on
the firing line on my twenty-first birthday, (June 1) and were kept in the
second line in reserve six days. I had really rather be on the first line than
the second as in the second line you are constantly under fire and cannot hit
back.
On our sixth day we moved to the front line. We hiked through dark woods all
night and had not been stationed on the front line more than five minues when we
received orders to "Go Over The Top and give 'em Hell." The enemy seemed to be
taken by surprise as they retreated two miles before they opened fire on us.
After we had chased them through a wheatfield and they were under cover in
some woods they opened several machine guns on us and I was one of the first to
be wounded.
This was about four o'clock in the morning. The wheat was very wet and I had
chills and was so sick that I could not crawl back to the dressing station and
there was such a steady stream of lead coming over that I was afraid to move.
The bullets came all around and over me all the morning and it is certainly a
miracle that none hit me. Three went into my equipment, laying beside me. Just
about the time the sun had dried out the field and I began to feel better the
Huns started to shelling the field. A shell burst about six feet from me and
stunned my right leg so I was unable to move for several hours.
I lay in the field ten hours altogether. About two o'clock the feeling came
back to my leg and as the shells and bullets were not coming near so fast as
they had all morning I decided to crawl back. There was about a hundred yards of
open field between the wheat field and the woods that I had to go through. I ran
through this as fast as I could and the German snipers fired eight shots at me
but none hit me although they came very near it.
I walked about two miles back to a little village and had my wound dressed
and then had an all night ride in an ambulance to the base hospital.
I was certainly lucky to come out alive as the shells never ceased coming
over in the field all day.
It was a pity that I was wounded so early as the other boys all have so many
stories to tell about their hand to hand fights with Fritz but I was laid out
before the real excitement began.
I have not had any mail from home yet and it certainly seems a long time
since I heard, but I have been moved about so much that it is hard to keep up
with us.
Write often, lots of love to all,
CARLISLE.
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Edwards, William T.
"Letter from William T. Edwards," Lavonia Times and Gauge
21 Feb 1919.
Letter From William T. Edwards.
Wednesday, Jan 22nd, 1919.
Mrs. Ludie Edwards:
I will answer
your letter I received today. I was glad to hear from you. The letters I
received today were written on Nov. 19th, 25th and 28th, and I received one from
Isom. I got four letters today and was sure glad to get them. I have only
received six letters since I came over here. I am looking for one from my girl.
The mail is just now catching up with us.
We are off today. I sleep in the daytime and work at night. Those letters
waked me up. I hope none of you had the flu. I don't know when I will be home.
Maybe I will come next month. All the married men are going home. I hope I will
get to come. I know you need me there to help make the crop.
Write soon. From you son,
William T. Edwards,
2nd Co. Prov. Labor Btn,
V. M. Spur 762.
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Elliot, Lewis D.
"Lewis D. Elliot Writes Home," Lavonia Times and Gauge
4 Oct 1918.
Lewis D. Elliot Writes Home.
American E. F.
Aug 10, 1918.
Dear People:--
Will write you a letter today as I haven't written in so long. I haven't
gotten a letter from you yet but guess I know the reason. Have not been settled
till today and I expect every day to get a letter now. I know you are writing.
Haven't been to the front yet but have been very close. Am not worying about
it as I have heard a lot of the boys that have been there and have not had a
scratch. And I am sure in a good outfit. I am still with a lot of the boys from
home and they are just fine. Some of them were in part of the last drive. They
have been giving the Germans some trouble. Guess you have kept up with all the
news. I know it sounds good to you all as well as to us.
Hope you are enjoying a good summer and will get a good crop. Write me some
long letters.
Your son and brother,
Lewis D.
Elliot.
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Greer, Fermon
"Firmon Greer Writes From France," Lavonia Times and Gauge
14 March 1919, Section 1.
Firmon Greer Writes From France.
France, Feb 6th, 1919
Dear Brother:
I received my first letter from Mamma yesterday
and of course it is useless to say that I was so glad to get it for you can
imagine how I was. Judging from mother's letter not ___* of you are getting the
letters I have written. I write mother at least once a week and I usually write
you from once to twice very week, and have only received two letters from
sisters and the one from mother yesterday. This is all the mail I have received
from homefolks. I hope you are getting all of my letters now. Perhaps it will
not be long now until I can get mail a few days after it has been posted by you.
Yesterday I saw Alford Fisher, Zeke Bradley and Tabe Rice. Gee, I sure was
glad to see them and hadn't dreamed of them being so near. They are about 6
kilometers away.
Well brother we had a pay-day today---a day which all of us look forward to
with much interest, and tonight I had supper with a French family. We had a very
swell feed, but what got my goat was that after we finished supper the "madam"
asked us if we liked the meat that was served. Naturally we said "yes." She said
that it was fox that we ate. I'll tell what happened then, when I get home, ha,
ha.
The ground has been covered with snow for about 3 weeks. Another big snow
fell yesterday but it rained most all night last night and the snow was all gone
this morning. My pal and I planned yesterday to go wild boar hunting today but
the snow was gone this morning and we did not go.
This leaves me feeling fine and fat. Truly hoping this will find you all the
same and hope this will reach you in a reasonable time. Remember me to all my
friends and write often.
Brother,
FERMON.
P. S.--We are expecting to leave for the States any time. Wish I could get a
copy of the Times. F.
* unreadable
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Hardy, Frank S.
"W. C. Loehr Gets an Interesting Letter from Frank S. Hardy:
Tells of Life in the Trenches," Lavonia Times and Gauge 23 Aug 1918.
W. C. Loehr Gets An Interesting Letter From Frank S. Hardy.--Tells of Life In
the Trenches.
July 29th., 1918.
Dear Mr. Loehr:--
I received your very welcomed letter upon my return to a rest
camp, after spending over a week in the front line trenches where we had a
little excitement and a few thrills, and several casualties. Although the
sector which we occupied was considered as a quiet front, yet it seemed to be
particularly lively to me a great part of the time. I would like to tell
you just where we were situated and some more particulars, but as you well know
they will not allow us to mention anything in detail, as to our location, etc.
The most active thing in our sector was the artillery, and
snipers, and machine gunners, and the first two gave me some thrills that I
shall never forget. The first night or two I was on my automatic post--I
am in charge of an automatic rifle, and am the gunner. It takes three to
make a team--a gunner, and two carriers, who carry the ammunition. Well,
the shells were landing all around our heads, so very close that it almost
seemed that you could hear it playing your funeral march. You can usually
hear the shells coming in time to "duck" though, yet the greatest danger is in
flying pieces of shrapnel, when the shell strikes and explodes into a million
pieces. But we were more fortunate than some others, as we escaped being
hit by any, although some came uncomfortably close to me. Then a few
nights after that I was out on a special duty, and the moon was as thinking of
my "little girlie" back home, and not exercising the necessary care when a
German sniper's bullet whistled past my head and struck an iron railing only
three of four feet in front of me,--well, take it from me, I got my mind on my
business after that. There are lots of other things I would like to write
about my first experiences in the trenches, but we are not allowed to write too
much. Suppose you now how the trenches are built, or dug. They are
ditches about four to eight feet deep and from three to five feet wide, and are
dug in a zig-zag manner, and during rainy weather fill up with water, as there
is no covering. Of course, there are usually dug-outs, where those not on
duty sleep. However, you sometimes do not have a dug-out, and just have to
be down in the trenches and nap that way. We were very fortunate, in
getting a right comfortable dug-out. We are very much pleased at the
situation now as it looks. The paper states this morning that they
are in full retreat, with the Franco-Americans pushing them back. Uncle
Sammie's boys are delivering the goods everywhere they are stationed, as you
will notice in all reports.
I appreciated the thoughts that prompted you to start the
several copies of The Times, but have been dreadfully disappointed at not
receiving them, as the only copies I have seen were two that Annie Laurie sent
me which I received while in the trenches, and you can never know just how much
I enjoyed them, and I did not stop reading after the first time either,--I read
them several times. They were the issues in which the Red Cross
contributions were published, and the one following, and Lavonia and surrounding
country certainly contributed loyally to the good cause.
Mamma is sending me the Journal and I have already received
several copies, which gives me quite a deal of state news. And she also
wrote that she had subscribed for the Times, and I guess I will be receiving it
before long.
There are several Franklin county boys in my company, among
whom are: Charlie Jacks, son of Mr. George Jacks, and Guy Crow is another
one, and then we have another--Thos. J. Dooley. They are all getting along
very well and send regards to their friends. I have seen Tom Jones only
once since coming across, and that was about six weeks ago. He was getting
along very nicely. He is located not so very far from me now, however, but
I never have an opportunity to go to see him.
Your friend, Frank.
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McDaniel, W. Swinton
"Interesting Letter from Lieut. Swinton McDaniel," Lavonia Times and Gauge
5 July 1918.
INTERESTING LETTER FROM LIEUT. SWINTON McDANIEL.
Somewhere in France.
May 31, 1918.
Dear Mother:--
Yesterday visited the prettiest French town have yet had the
pleasure to visit. We were quite a distance from our billets and under
canvasses, going thru the same practice we had at Narcross, and after the days
work several of us hiked over to this town which is near by. Even though
one might be blind he could by the prices deduce it was a summer resort.
The city is so built that a good view of the entire town can be had from where
we were at practise and just the view was refreshing. There were quite a
few neat shops and stores where we left a few frncs.
Am at present under canvass and we have a move coming to us
on the morrow--change billets. We have changed several times but never
getting out of a ten mile radius from our first billet, but passing through many
quaint villages and pretty country.
Saw a white cliff that is practically perpendicular, about
100 fet [feet] high, and a hill sloping up from the cliff on which a very pretty
town was built, and green grass coming down to the edge of the cliff, and by
drawing on your imagination think you will appreciate the view. Wish I
could send a picture post card of it but this is not permitted.
Received just a few minutes ago a copy of the Carnesville
Herald, of date April 25th, the day our ship steamed past the Statue of Liberty,
and certainly appreciate it. Have read it very closely.
Am beginning to pick up a few French words and in time think
I will be able to get along with the French tongue very well.
General Pershing recently inspected our regiment, and our
company was on practice such as we had at Narcross at the time, and the only
company on such practice at the time was with us. He gave company B, a
particular inspection on account of us being in operation and must say
everything was working like clockwork at the time, the inspection so far as our
operations were carried out with a single hitch. We claim to be some Co.
and some Reg.
Please write often. Do not merely reply to my letters
as they will necessarily be few. We are of course very busy, and even
after drills we have lectures and schools and between times there are so many
things to do, among them censuring my platoon mail and this takes quite a little
time as 58 men in France write.
Your son,
W. S. McDaniel.
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Owens, J. Erwin
"Letter from the Trenches," Lavonia Times and Gauge 18
Oct 1918.
LETTER FROM THE TRENCHES.
"From the Dugout"
Thurs. 6:30, P. M.
Mrs. A. J. Owens,
Sept 14, 1918.
Canon, Ga.
My Dear Mother:---
I know you folks are eargerly [eagerly] awaiting the papers these days.
There's reason enough for you doing so. The Americans have started a "little
show" all their own. It started off the morning, Sept. 12. The infantry went
'over the top' at day break (5 o'clock) but the artillery had been in action for
four hours. When I say action, I mean it in every sense of the word, for I know,
and am in a position to know.
On the night before the attack was to start (night of the 11th) I was
ordered to take a patrol out to a patch of woods lying between our front lines
and those of the Boches. Nobody knew positively, but it had been reported that
there were some German machine guns in those woods. Of course we were somewhat
excited over the propects [prospects] of a "run in" with Jerry out there.
We left our present positions about 9:30 P. M. It was 'as dark as Egypt,'
and pouring down rain. We headed for our objective after cutting through our own
barbed wire. We hadn't gone very far until we decided we had headed in the wrong
direction. We changed our course and moved on--it still raining. It afterwards
turned out that we were headed in the right direction at first, and we'd lost
out by turning to the right instead of moving straight ahead.
We wandered around in the rain, mud and wire of "no man's land" for several
hours and were still out there when our artillery opened up. Very shortly after
ours started Jerry started his counter artillery action. I can hardly describe
to you how I felt out there with so many "hard tacks" (the pet name for shells
used by our men) going over our heads. To say the least of it, it was very
thrilling.
My Captain told me just before I started out that the attack would open up
at 1 A. M., so I wasn't surprised. As some of the men put it, it was music to
the ear to listen to the bullets go by, although we were soaking wet and half
freezing. We were in a position from which we could see not only the flash of
our own guns but the flash of the breaking shells. Pretty soon after the
fireworks started, the sky was lighted up in several places. This evidently was
due to fires in German back area started by our shells.
In addition to what we could see of our own guns, we could see the flashes
of Jerry's guns, as he very toiled to counter barrage. Of course lots of his
shells were going over our heads too, but in spite that we had neither dugouts,
nor trenches, we didn't feel the slightest uneasiness. We knew that they were
headed for something farther to the rear than ourselves.
Another source of delight to us was the noise of Jerry's gas alarm. Our
artillery threw a lot of gas shells over, and we could plainly hear the alarms
which consisted of horns, bells, rattlers, and most everything that could
possibly be used for making a noise. The French speak of gas as "champagne" for
the Bosches. From the noise they were making they certainly got heaps of
champagne on the morning of the 12th. But back to my story. After wandering
about for several hours we finally located our woods at about 2:15 A. M. It was
still so dark we couldn't see anything, so I placed my men in one corner of the
woods and told them we would hold tight till it got lighter. Just as soon as it
got light I placed part of my men on guard, and the rest of us cut through the
wire and scoured the woods from edge to edge and corner to corner. The only Huns
we found were good ones, they were buried in 1916. We were rather surprisd
[surprised] and I might say disappointed--not to find any live Germans over
there. We had walked around so long and were so wet and cold and were in such a
humor that no Bosch would have fared well in our hands.
We had orders to spend the day in the woods, so after we'd looked the place
over we tried our best to mak [make] ourselves comfortable. This was impossible
in spite of the fact that most of us carried blankets, but we were so cold and
wet, especially our feet and the ground was so sloppy within the woods. Each of
us carried a can of "bully beef" and a pocket of hard tack that was our days
rations. The main trouble was we couldn't eat all we had.
The artillery action continued all day, almost without a break. We could
stand on the edge of "our" woods, out of Jerry's, and see his as well as our
shells breaking--in some cases miles away. There was a little German village
just across a valley--probably a mile and a half away--and we could see the dust
from it when one of our shells landed over there. To our left was a sort of
ridge which was held by two Companies of my batallion--one Company being on the
nose or shoulder of the ridge and the other further up toward the top. We could
see Jerry's shells breaking around these positions and could only hope that none
of the men up there were hurt.
The most disappointing thing we saw, was when one of our planes was brought
down within the German lines. My platoon sergeant and I had been crawling around
in the weeds in order to get to a point somewhere higher than our position in
the woods, from which we could get a look down the valley of the little river
which was about 500 yards in front of us. We were crawling back--having taken
slightly different directions-when the plane landed. It seemed that it was
brought down by machine gun fire. At any rate we heard a Bosch gun fire in the
direction of the plane. When I first saw it it was flying very low and I thought
it was using its machine gun on a German trench. I soon saw there was something
wrong, for instead of it rising again, he kept getting lower and lower. He
managed to land side up, but after he hit the ground he rolled behind a little
hill and I wasn't able to tell what happened after that. I kept watching the
point where he went out of sight with the expectation of seeing a column of
smoke rise. Generally when an aviator is forced to land within the enemy lines,
he destroys his machine if he can possibly do so. This poor fellow must have
been too badly hurt to set fire to his or else they closed in on him so quickly
he couldn't get his fire going. I imagine it must be an awful feeling to be
kliding [gliding] smoothly along and then suddenly drop down and land in the
hands of the enemy.
We held our own in the woods, in spite of the rain. About 2:00 P. M. I got a
message from Capt. Howell ordering me to move to a little bridge across the
little river which was about six hundred yards from us. I didn't fancy the idea
of moving in daylight, so I planned to take up our position at dark. When night
came the moon came out so bright I could hardly believe it. It was most as light
as day but we started any way. We had not gone over two hundred yards when we
were overtaken by a bunch from one of our other companies. We knew we were to be
relived [relieved] but were not expecting it so early. Still we didn't get
"sore" about it. We got back to our dugouts a little after 10:00 P. M. tired,
sore and sleepy--but happy. We were no longer cold for our walk had warmed us a
bit. We were the first American patrol that ever spent a day in the Bois de
C_______, a place generally conceeded as being full of Germans. The 82nd
Division has not gone "over the top" as a whole yet. Will probably do so in a
few days. We'll make things warm for Jerry when we do.
Our "stunt" seemed easy enough to us, but both our Captain and Major seemed
highly pleased with our work. The truth is, that anybody could have done it. All
it needed was some one to break the ice and we did it.
I know you will be anxious as long as this "show" keeps up, and I want to
ask you not worry. But I will say that I am going into it with no fear of the
consequences. If I am spared, alls well and good; if not, just remember my going
was for a good purpose.
With lots of love, from,
Your loving son,
J. Erwin Owens.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Owens, J. Erwin
"Last Letter from Lieut. J. Erwin Owens," Lavonia
Times and Gauge 29 Nov 1918.
LAST LETTER FROM LIEUT. J. ERWIN OWENS.
WRITTEN TO HIS WIFE BEFORE HIS DEATH--AND WAS RECEIVED AFTER HIS DEATH.
France, Oct 7, 8:45, P. M.
My Dearest Little
Wife:--
I'm not going to attempt to answer all the cheering and love filled letters
I've received from you during the past few days. We've had a rather strenuous
little hike today and am going to bed soon.
We are still in reserve but we moved up a few miles nearer the front this A.
M. We don't know when--if ever we will be used in this push, (a new one started
this morning--or it may have been a sort of renewed effort), but it doesn't seem
probable that it will continue much longer without the 82nd being thrown in. If
we are called within the next day or so of course I will be too busy to do any
writing.
But tonight, I want to say that all the letters I have been getting from
you--so full of love and confidence and hope--have been worth more to me than I
am able to say. To know absolutely that you are so dear to me as you are--so
wrapped up in my welfare and actions and have so much faith in me, is enough to
give me courage and strength and determination sufficient to face any difficulty
that may confront me. I often wonder how a man helps being miserable who has no
one that means as much to him as you do to me (if such a thing is allowed to
others) to whom he longs to return and for whom he can feel that he is fighting.
My sole thought and desire now is for the war to be finished so that I can come
back to you. That is why we are all so anxious "to get into it." We feel that
the addition of our little effort will have its part to play towards bringing
the Kaiser to his knees.
I have often told you that I felt no "misgivings" about what may happen to
me as a result of my getting into some real action. Something has always seemed
to tell me that I'd come back all right. That faith is just as strong as ever. I
have no other thought than that of coming back after it is all over, and I know
the wishes and prayers of you and all our people are with me.
I hardly know what you are going to think of this letter. It may sound to
you as we are going over the top in the morning. If you have gained such an
impression I am sorry, for I didn't mean to convey any such idea as that. As
I've already said before, we may be called upon soon and I simply wanted you to
know how I feel.
In a note to Eula last night I told her we expected to go over this A. M. at
6:00. For some reason or other our orders were changed and we're still here in
the woods--the woods the Bosche were holding before the attack of September
26th.
It's quite interesting to be living in places recently vacated by Jerry. He
left a number of very elegantly furnished dugouts here in the woods. Quite a
number of them are wired for electric lights; others are equipped with bath
tubs; and others have flower boxes and tiny little gardens near by. We have seen
some with pens for chickens and rabbits. Evidently they came here with the
expectation of staying here for keeps. To look at some of their dugouts and
other means of defense, one can harly [hardly] see how we could drive them out.
Still the AMERICANS managed to do it some way--as they generally do with
everything else they attempt.
A few of our officers and men are using some of the Bosche dugouts but the
fighting is so far away, that the only protection a dugout can give is from the
weather. We have just been in this location two nights. (We've moved here since
I wrote you the other night) We were kept awake last night expecting orders to
move forward at most any moment. We had everything packed before dark and were
just lying round making the most of things when an order finally came, saying
the men could unroll packs and pitch tents if they wanted to. Such things are
absolutely disgusting. We've packed and unpacked about a dozen times in the last
ten days and haven't gone anywhere yet. Still, I suppose that is only one of the
many inconveniences with which a soldier has to contend.
There is one thing nobody--especially we officers--could help noticing last
night. While sitting on our packs expecting to get the word at any moment to
move and with a slight drizzle rain falling part of the time, the men of this
Batallion were singing and joking and laughing as freely and with as much spirit
as if they were back in their barracks at Camp Gordon. Such spirit is
remarkable--yet it is typical with the American soldier wherever you find him.
The men that were participating in the singing, etc., were curled up in
their overcoats and sleeping as peacefully as if no war was in progress. To the
"uninitiated" such action wouldn't be expected of men just on the verge of
"going over." Most folks would think the men would necessarily be more sober and
thoughtful under those conditions. But the same cold disregard for personal
danger is what makes the Hun realize he is up against something when he comes
face to face with an American.
Just as luck would have it, a big bunch of papers came just before we packed
up. There was a whole armful of Journals, two Lavonia Times (one of which had a
letter from me to mamma published in it) and lastly the magazines from you. I
was a bit surprised that they came through--but I was delighted. As we expected
to move, I carefully packed them away so I can read them when we get located
somewhere again. If we stay here much longer, or if we don't get any "dope"
pretty soon, I think I'll proceed to open up my roll and enjoy them.
I don't know when I'm ever going to get an opportunity to catch up with my
writing. If I had a decent place for writing I might do better. As it is though,
I have a chewing tobacco box in my lap and am using it for a table. A man learns
to do lots of things in this man's war.
Tomorrow, if I'm not mistaken, is Mattie's birthday. I want to write if I
can, but if I don't, please tell her I thought of her and wish for her a most
happy anniversary.
At the rate our mail has been coming for the past few weeks, this should
reach you a day or so before you, too, celebrate a birthday anniversary. Heres
hoping that you, too, will be the happiest possible--and that for your next I
can be with you and enjoy it with you.
Give my love to all the folks and tell them I'm thinking of them even if I
don't write them.
With all the love in the world to you,
I am, your
devoted husband,
ERWIN
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Parker, John L.
"Colored Soldier Writes Home: John L. Parker Writes
to Father, Homer Parker," Lavonia Times and Gauge 14 Feb 1919.
Colored Soldier Writes Home. John L. Parker Writes to Father, Homer
Parker.
France, Dec 24, 1918.
Dearest Father, Mother and Brother:
This is to let
you know that I am well and have been ever since I have been over here. I have
seen a lot in my stay from home in this work of war. I haven't got my Christmas
box yet. I am still looking for it. I hope you all had a Merry Christmas and a
Happy New Year.
Listen to this papa, I stood on the front lines nine days and I tell you
that was something else. The third Saturday in September I went over the top and
believe me we had a rat-killing time, though I did not get a wound. God was in
the fight. Say, I am having a good old time now. Plenty of beer and wine to
drink and the war is over. Say, you asked me was there anyone with me from home.
I haven't seen but three that I know and this is Farris Williams, Peter Linder,
John Willie.
Say, I have a time looking at the French women. They are sights to be seen.
You know I don't have much to say. Well, tell all that I will beb [be] home some
day.
Bye, Bye, from your son,
John L. Parker.
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Sewell, Ray
"A Letter From Ray Sewell," Lavonia Times
and Gauge 25 July 1919, Section 2.
A LETTER FROM RAY SEWELL.
Le Mans, France,
July 1st, 1919.
Dearest Mother:--
I will write
you a letter today as I have been so disgusted for the last week that I did not
do anything.
Mama, I am out of luck again. On Dec. 14, 1918, I was drafted in the M. P.
Corps. I served in the 7th M. P. Corps for two months and on the 5th of February
I was drafted in the 261st Co., in which I stayed until the first of May. They
asked for volunteers for a few months but I would not volunteer for you know I
want to come home. They said all who would not volunteer would be home in June.
I was transferred to Le Mans on the 27th of June and orders came in for 100
volunteers for the M. P. Corps for a few months. They only got 62 to volunter so
the Major said to draft them. I was picked out to stay over here and I am so
blue and lonesome. The ones who volunteered returned to the states and the non
volunteers stayed over. Guess its a fair deal. The ones who want to stay in
France are returned to the states for they only volunteer for a big time and are
not fit for duty.
I have written you so many times that I would be home soon, Mama, but I have
seen three of my companies leave for home and I have most given up. So don't
expect me anytime soon. It takes lots of men to look after the government
property, selling, storing, and shipping it.
This is a sad bunch of boys left over here. Some of them cried, some of them
got drunk, or were A. W. O. L. when they were to go to duty.
The French and American soldiers are having a lots of trouble. The French
are very jealous of the American boys. It is dangerous to be on the street with
a French girl for one soldier was almost beat to death. In the time of the riot
one American went to the hospital, and with him seventeen French soldiers. Two
French soldiers were killed. Friday night all the M. P. Corps were called out.
They were good friends to us while the war was on but they say now the Americans
are no good.
I hope you are feeling good at home. I sent you a pair of wooden shoes and a
pillow top which I suppose you have received by this time. Tell everybody to
write to me. With love from
Ray.
---------------------
July 4th.
Dearest Mother:--
I had a little
hard luck last night. I am in the hospital now. A soldier was A. W. O. L. for
three weeks and was seen on the streets by his Captain so he sent me to arrest
him. As we were going to police headquarters he stabbed me with a knife. I am
weak from loss of blood. The Lieutenant has been to see me. I can hardly write
on this bed. I was to go and play ball this afternoon and sure sorry I can't go
for I am lonesome. I had a good breakfast at the hospital today. I have a new
address. Write me often.
Ray.
Corp. Chas R. Sewell.
Provisional Military Police
Headquarters Det. A. P. O. 762,
American E. F.
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Siler, Clifton
"Clifton Siler Writes to His Mother," Lavonia Times
and Gauge 14 March 1919, Section 1.
Clifton Siler Writes to His Mother.
Nogent, France, Feb. 12th.
Dear Mama:
A few days ago I received your letter of January 20th. That was fast work
for the mail gang. I wish I knew who was responsible for--I would try and get
him a D. S. C. Was glad to get it and to know that you were all well. The flu is
very dangerous. I have been afraid some of you would have it. I have escaped so
far. There has been very little of it in our company.
Our latest rumor is that we leave for the States the 1st of March, but I'm
from Missouri on that.
I never received the Christmas box you sent me though it reached the Co. The
mail orderly told me he forwarded it to the hospital but I was in the conv. camp
then. Supopse [Suppose] some S. O. S. guy got the enjoyment out of it.
My monthly pay is $28.40, so I get along very well. I spend it for something
extra to eat and for smokes. I bought four eggs this morning that cost 15¢ each.
The boys say they were 24¢ in Belgium. When I went to the hospital I was broke
and I lived months without drawing a cent so you see it is not impossible to
live without money, although it is very unhandy.
I am enclosing a newspaper clipping telling of some of the deeds of the
363rd boys. I was along with Lieut. Anderson when he got the snipers. He was gas
officer of our regiment and he sure has got lots of --- ---well nerve. He was
later wounded but he is back and O. K. now.
I understand I will go back to Camp Lewis and will be sent from there to
Douglas. Have learned that an oil well in which I have a little stock has come
in. I suppose I will be gyped out of it but think I will run over to Rowlins and
see about it (also Ruth) and then will come straight home.
As I have no news I will close for this time. Tell Mary
I will write to her if I don't leave here soon.
As ever, KIP.
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Whitworth, Pike
"Pike Whitworth Writes an Interesting Letter,"
Lavonia Times and Gauge 28 Feb 1919.
PIKE WHITWORTH WRITES AN INTERESTING LETTER.
TELLS OF HIS EXPERIENCE ON THE ST. MIHIEL AND ARGONNE FRONTS.
SAW BATTLE FOR THREE MONTHS.
Morbach, Germany.
Jan 27th, 1919.
Dear Mr. Editor:
I see many
articles published which sound very much like the brave S. O. S. trying the
explain the many haradous [hazardous?] days, hours, and minutes we spent going
over the top, standing in the thickest of the German barrage, both gas and
shrapnel, also facing the machine gun and rifle fire that caused many of the
comrades to pay the supreme sacrifice. In many articles I see where the boys at
the front are supplied with many luxuries, such as (Boo Koo) much candy,
cigarettes, jam, etc. They also sleep in immense quarters and have long pitiful
conversations with some unfortunate French orphan or widow. Also on the
well-remembered date of the 11th day, 11th hour and 11th months how the bands
both white and colored, screamed victory by playing the Star Spangled Banner.
Now, Mr. Reader, here comes my experience. My Division relieved the 1st
Division August 23rd, at 1 A. M. and was in the St. Mihiel drive Sept. 12th. On
the morning of Sept. 12, at 1 A. M. the barrage began. There were 2500 pieces of
artillery all firing at once which lasted something like 18 hours instead of
four or five hours as some of them state.
The night was very dark but as the watch pointed to 1 A. M., the heavens
lighted up until a man could be seen at a distance. The next morning we knew the
big show was on. In regard to the war-stricken things we see on the front, there
were trenches and acres and acres of barbed wire fence that a man could get
through only in certain places and then by the aid of wire pliers. There were
dugouts, some blown up and some in good shape, and rats and cooties by the
wholesale.
The people at the front were not women and children. They were men dressed
in khaki or the chilly gray of the Hun. Most of the khaki clad men were so busy
at his bit, whatever that may have been that he didn't have time to say "hello"
even to his best friends. Others wore torn clothes and some blood stained. Some
of the khaki boys had already done their bit. Many a time have I thought the boy
who had paid the supreme sacrifice, with the hell of hells finished, was the
luckiest man in the A. E. F.
The Hun when seen behind the allied line was either going to the rear by
twos or had stayed by his gun too long.
This is a description of the St. Mihiel as near as I can give without going
into details and giving things that nobody wants to know and many things that I
do not care to relate.
We were on the St. Mihiel, or well known Toul sector, from August 23rd to
October 9th. On Oct. 9th we received orders to roll packs and be ready to move
as soon as the wings of the night hid us from the Huns observation. When the
hour arrived we done to the rear march for 28 miles. By daylight we were at
Lucy, France, about five kilos from Toul. Back in the S. O. S. we thought we
would get the long looked for rest. Five days of good time, out of shell fire
sure was a great and good feeling, to know Fritz couldn't take a crack at us.
This time was to be spent principally in letter writing as this was the first
time for 42 days we had found time enough to collect our thoughts to even write
a sensible letter home. After the second night in Lucy, sleeping on a cot with a
straw mattress (a straw mattress was appreciated as much as the best bed in the
Waldorf-Astoria after sleeping in cootie-filled dugouts, trenches, shell holes,
dug-in holes, or anywhere we felt safe to get in, we began to feel like the old
bunch of boys again and were talking of where we would go from here.
The first news we had was of a 100 kilo ride in rucks which was true. On the
morning of the 6th day in Lucy we rolled our packs again and loaded 20 men to
the truck and when our destination was reached we unloaded near hill No. 304,
and "dead man's hill." The latter, the French claim, cost nine men to the square
foot. On the Verdun front. I believe the American newspapers call it the
Argonne-Meuse Sector.
Here we were on Oct. 19th, on the worst front in the whole business--the
Verdun, relieving the 4th Division and a bunch of good fellows too. The first
twelve days were rather quiet. There was some shelling from Jerry's 77's and
SS's and his birds of paradise coming over at night pouring out all the shells
wherever he thought some Yank was trying to hide and sleep a little on the side.
The Yanks were constantly bringing up the artillery to implacements till
every place that ever looked like a place for a gun had all they could bet on
it. Everything was ready with 155 long rifle cannon two and three deep, and 73
m. four and five deep, 6, 8 and 10 inch Howitzers wherever they could get a good
smash at Jerry. Bang! they all went on the morning of Nov. 1st at the hour of
2:30. No man's paper pen, or mind can explain the likeness of a bararge here.
Not me anyway.
Here we go again. Every bararge means "over the top" for the doughboys, and
lots of road work, bridge building for the engineers, moving guns and ammunition
for the artillery and ammunition trains and also day and night work without rest
for the ambulance drivers, litter bearers, first-aid men and the doctors. This
continued till Nov. 11th at 11 A. M. At 9 A. M. on Nov. 11th our major came by
wearing a smile I had never seen on his face before. As he passed he yelled
"Good news boys, the armistice will be on at 11 o'clock, firing will cease at
that hour." Too good to believe but we all gave him a cheer anyway and that was
all for we were all in from loss of sleep and the long hours of hard work in mud
and rain for nights and days and with hard bread for rations usually. We got hot
coffee as often as the cooks could get it for us. The nice beans and bread the
S. O. S. talk of was not there. Neither were they that write such stuff.
On the night of Nov. 11th, my company stayed in Stenay, France, and those of
us who had a candle could light one for the first time in 78 days. To have a
light was a real treat after being in the dark for so long a time. The next day
our officers went over the town to find a good billeting place for us. And they
did. It was an old French armory that would hold a whole regiment. The next
thing was to clean up the filth the Germans had left, and the next thing was to
go cootie hunting, which every man had to do. This was all done in a good spirit
until the news were received that our division was in the army of occupation.
Then we knew our go home trip was a long way off. But we did not know that we
were going to have to hike 500 kilos to the place we were to occupy. Five
hundred kilos carrying a soldiers equipment weighing from 60 to 70 pounds is
some hike and any of the boys who made it will tell you so.
We are in Germany now, among our enemy. Lots of mountain scenery and river
scenes along the Mosee River and lots of hikes to hike up and down and plenty of
mud to wade through. It either rains, snows, or sleets every day here this time
of the year.
Now I guess you would like to know something of how the Yanks and the
Germans get along. Well, as far as I know they are O. K. I am treated real nice
by the family where I room, just as nice as I would expect a friend to treat me.
Mr. Reader, I suppose you hear lots of war stories. Many men are telling of
the bravery some fellow told him he did or saw someone do. But when he wears a
silver service stripe and tells of the turkey pie and cake and many other things
to eat for Christmas, just say S. O. S. to him. For that was his home. I guess I
am like most of the boys--that is--I think my organization and officers are the
best. But I want to say our officers have done all they could for our boys in
any way that they could to make us as comfortable as possible.
But if you have any bouquets for anybody give it to the man who deserves it.
He is the doughboy who has seen real action: However, I am not a doughboy but
wasn't far from them at any time.
Guess I have said enough, so will ring off.
Corp. C. P. Whitworth.
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Melinda Reddish
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