TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DEWITT ENTERPRISE OCTOBER 24, 1918 P. 4
I could write on other themes than the one I have chosen, but none other would be a means of attaining my purpose, since it is the boys of the late draft that I wish to reach and also the “folks at home.” It is those boys who will soon be in the service that I wish to address this to in the hope that it may help them in the coming days.
In civil life before entering the service it may be said I was “my own boss” to a great extent. My day’s work was what I cared to make it and my privileges were un-numbered. I was free to indulge in that which was a pleasure i. e: motoring, hunting, picnicking, etc. You know too well the freedom and joy of everyday life of a civilian. Probably you do not know so much about military life. “Hitting the trail” or the army as I have found it is what I wish to convey to you.
The first thing that impressed me as a civilian was the kakai uniform. It is nice to look upon and one admires the wearer and finds himself wanting to wear one, too. The military life looks inviting from without. By this I mean it seems fascinating and very inviting to the civilian. As all boys, I knew I was sometime to be called to “do my bit.” I made up my mind to be a fighter from the first day and to take what came my way with a willing heart. I had thought much about the service but never took it very seriously.
Now that I am in the army, the “democratic army,” I can tell you more of the life. My first experience was riding in a “special” chaircar that must have had chairs with straight backs for there was no reclining to them and that first night was long, and as tough as long. Upon reaching camp you can expect to be greeted as “rookies” from all sides and “where are your cigarettes?” “we collect all cigarettes etc;” “hats off and a thousand other crys. Then comes your first night’s sleep on an army bunk of a straw mattress between wool blankets. That night you will have a thousand and one different thoughts and wonder if you will be murdered the coming day. But the coming days bring relief from scares of the “shots” and the drill and soon you find yourself so busy that you have no time for delving into the future and wondering what the coming day will bring, for the present is more than you can handle with three or four officers on your heels. It seems as though the officers care very little for your feelings and you soon are inclined to want to “cuss some of them out,” but for your own benefit I would advise your not doing that. It will seem that it is very unjust to trust you as they do since you have been accustomed to all kinds of personal liberties. It is then that one realizes the job isn’t soft. After being a K.P. (kitchen police) and having had experience in washing dishes, scrubbing floors, waiting tables, doing guard duty, “surgeon detail,” or better known as pulling weeds, and picking up cigarette butts and matches, you will most likely conclude that you have had your dignity stepped upon, but you will find relief when your “pardner” says he quit playing beside Ethel Barrymore, or another one says he quit as a corporation lawyer to join the service. Such incidents are quite common in the C.O.T.S. (central officers training schools) as well as in other branches of the service.
After two months of life in the infantry and radio training, I have completed five weeks in the field artillery officers training school and find that the previous experience records are all broken here in the F. A. C. O. T. S. the first inducement to enter the C.O.T.S. is to gain the gold bars and again we look upon the surface as when first entering the service. After being here some weeks one comes to realize what he has undertaken and then it is that a new initiative is given him. He is training to lead men in battle, a fight between life and death, and he holds the reins of the lives of his men in his own hands to a very large extent. It is then that he cares little for petty disappointments and personal ambition, for he knows he must be a fit man. If we are not fit men for officers we will not be disappointed men, for we would not care to lead men when we are not capable of doing so. The man in the C. O. T. S. jumps from his bunk at 5 a.m. , dresses in 5 minutes, has his breakfast, shines his shoes, cleans the barracks, cleans his clothing, makes his bunk, mops the floors, picks up all cigarette stubs around barracks, shaves, etc, all before 6:30 a.m., when he begins his days drill. The day is spent in drilling, exercises, instruction, etc. at 6 p.m. mess call is blown and after mess study takes place until 9 p.m. at 9:30 p.m. lights are out and then comes the real rest, only to be broken by the bugle in the morning. This routine is repeated day after day and hopes, disappointments, fears, come upon the horizon and fade away. Tonight finds me waiting for Monday and the same old grind.
I am nearing the close of the “transformation” period and feel as though I am at home here now. Soon you will have to face the things I have __ and I want to ask you not to look for a “good thing” but to look for hard service, yes the hardest you have ever faced, and make up your mind to meet the new duties with a determination to do or die and meet them with a willing heart. Be prepared to forget that you ever enjoyed home comforts and expect the worst, even if the best comes your way. Boy, be willing to serve and give all you can and never feel discouraged whatever may happen to you. Make up your mind to take your place and fight, soldier, twenty-four hours per day, and not let the cutting words of an officer make you disgusted or sore, for it is for your good and it is you who will be serving for those at home. I trust that these few lines of the army life as I have found it will be helpful to you and lead you to meet your duty with a cheerful and willing heart.
Sincerely,
Candidate Claud W Barnard
NOTES: Barnard was from St. Charles, Arkansas and was writing this letter on October 19. He was in training at Camp Taylor, Kentucky in the officers training school.
TRANSCRIBED BY JORDAN HOLYFIELD
I could write on other themes than the one I have chosen, but none other would be a means of attaining my purpose, since it is the boys of the late draft that I wish to reach and also the “folks at home.” It is those boys who will soon be in the service that I wish to address this to in the hope that it may help them in the coming days.
In civil life before entering the service it may be said I was “my own boss” to a great extent. My day’s work was what I cared to make it and my privileges were un-numbered. I was free to indulge in that which was a pleasure i. e: motoring, hunting, picnicking, etc. You know too well the freedom and joy of everyday life of a civilian. Probably you do not know so much about military life. “Hitting the trail” or the army as I have found it is what I wish to convey to you.
The first thing that impressed me as a civilian was the kakai uniform. It is nice to look upon and one admires the wearer and finds himself wanting to wear one, too. The military life looks inviting from without. By this I mean it seems fascinating and very inviting to the civilian. As all boys, I knew I was sometime to be called to “do my bit.” I made up my mind to be a fighter from the first day and to take what came my way with a willing heart. I had thought much about the service but never took it very seriously.
Now that I am in the army, the “democratic army,” I can tell you more of the life. My first experience was riding in a “special” chaircar that must have had chairs with straight backs for there was no reclining to them and that first night was long, and as tough as long. Upon reaching camp you can expect to be greeted as “rookies” from all sides and “where are your cigarettes?” “we collect all cigarettes etc;” “hats off and a thousand other crys. Then comes your first night’s sleep on an army bunk of a straw mattress between wool blankets. That night you will have a thousand and one different thoughts and wonder if you will be murdered the coming day. But the coming days bring relief from scares of the “shots” and the drill and soon you find yourself so busy that you have no time for delving into the future and wondering what the coming day will bring, for the present is more than you can handle with three or four officers on your heels. It seems as though the officers care very little for your feelings and you soon are inclined to want to “cuss some of them out,” but for your own benefit I would advise your not doing that. It will seem that it is very unjust to trust you as they do since you have been accustomed to all kinds of personal liberties. It is then that one realizes the job isn’t soft. After being a K.P. (kitchen police) and having had experience in washing dishes, scrubbing floors, waiting tables, doing guard duty, “surgeon detail,” or better known as pulling weeds, and picking up cigarette butts and matches, you will most likely conclude that you have had your dignity stepped upon, but you will find relief when your “pardner” says he quit playing beside Ethel Barrymore, or another one says he quit as a corporation lawyer to join the service. Such incidents are quite common in the C.O.T.S. (central officers training schools) as well as in other branches of the service.
After two months of life in the infantry and radio training, I have completed five weeks in the field artillery officers training school and find that the previous experience records are all broken here in the F. A. C. O. T. S. the first inducement to enter the C.O.T.S. is to gain the gold bars and again we look upon the surface as when first entering the service. After being here some weeks one comes to realize what he has undertaken and then it is that a new initiative is given him. He is training to lead men in battle, a fight between life and death, and he holds the reins of the lives of his men in his own hands to a very large extent. It is then that he cares little for petty disappointments and personal ambition, for he knows he must be a fit man. If we are not fit men for officers we will not be disappointed men, for we would not care to lead men when we are not capable of doing so. The man in the C. O. T. S. jumps from his bunk at 5 a.m. , dresses in 5 minutes, has his breakfast, shines his shoes, cleans the barracks, cleans his clothing, makes his bunk, mops the floors, picks up all cigarette stubs around barracks, shaves, etc, all before 6:30 a.m., when he begins his days drill. The day is spent in drilling, exercises, instruction, etc. at 6 p.m. mess call is blown and after mess study takes place until 9 p.m. at 9:30 p.m. lights are out and then comes the real rest, only to be broken by the bugle in the morning. This routine is repeated day after day and hopes, disappointments, fears, come upon the horizon and fade away. Tonight finds me waiting for Monday and the same old grind.
I am nearing the close of the “transformation” period and feel as though I am at home here now. Soon you will have to face the things I have __ and I want to ask you not to look for a “good thing” but to look for hard service, yes the hardest you have ever faced, and make up your mind to meet the new duties with a determination to do or die and meet them with a willing heart. Be prepared to forget that you ever enjoyed home comforts and expect the worst, even if the best comes your way. Boy, be willing to serve and give all you can and never feel discouraged whatever may happen to you. Make up your mind to take your place and fight, soldier, twenty-four hours per day, and not let the cutting words of an officer make you disgusted or sore, for it is for your good and it is you who will be serving for those at home. I trust that these few lines of the army life as I have found it will be helpful to you and lead you to meet your duty with a cheerful and willing heart.
Sincerely,
Candidate Claud W Barnard
NOTES: Barnard was from St. Charles, Arkansas and was writing this letter on October 19. He was in training at Camp Taylor, Kentucky in the officers training school.
TRANSCRIBED BY JORDAN HOLYFIELD