TRANSCRIBED FROM THE SPECTATOR APRIL 25, 1919 P. 3
Lerouville, France,
Feb. 24, 1919.
Mr and Mrs. Muchmore,
Ozark, Arkansas.
Dear Mamma and Papa:
Received your letter yesterday and sure was glad for I had begun to think you were not going to write me anymore--that you had as time passed by forgotten your big "little boy". I had written many letters, not ever dreaming that you were not receiving them and not getting an answer, Finally I gave up with a sad heart, figuring I had lost my best friends on earth--but I'm glad it's only a case of our mail not going through, though I wish we could have kept in touch with each other all the way through, for your letters are always welcome, always bring sunshine and cheer, and make life easier to live.
When hitting the high places for a dugout from the Boche's big Bertha's many, many times I have thought of you and papa, and your teachings verbally but the one big lesson I learned from watching your everyday life and that is to be cheerful always, and no matter how adverse or difficult the circumstances to always see the bright side. When prowling 'round no man's land doing patrol duty, on dark cold rainy nights, making close search that the Boche was not hanging around there himself to do us harm, I say on just such occasions have I "lying close to mother earth to keep the Boche machine gunners fro seeing me while a flare was up".
Let my thoughts carry me far far away from that ghostly, haunted, shell-torn, so closely watched strip of land separating representatives of Democracy, and the fiendish, blood thirsty Huns. and I would like to remark here that I do not refer to all the enemy as Huns, blood-thirsty, anxious and eager to take human life ad glorying in the war game, for many of them were forced into the trenches against their will. Many of that type gave up every chance they had, but there were many that played the game willingly glad for the opportunity, and would hold up one hand yelling "kamrade" and shoot rapid fire with a machine gun with other hand. Every time we put up a first-aid station and put the red cross on it the Germans would start shelling that particular house, barn, or dugout and would not stop until they had completely wrecked it.
Last August we were up in the Orby Sector, billeted in what was left of an old church, built something like seven hundred years ago, the walls were five feet six inches thick. We had a fine spring of ice cold water running just in front of the church. I used to take a cold sponge bath about daylight, after patrolling nearly all night, ate a good breakfast and then go to bed for a good sleep, that is if the whiz bangs didn't get close enough to be annoying.
There was an apple orchard near the church, sometimes we would stroll out there to get some apples, but some times we came back quicker than we went, for the Boche would not even let us get a little fruit in peace.
One fine Sunday I was up one of the trees shaking down the apples, when in the distance towards Germany I heard, tat--tat--tat--tat a rat-tat and cutting apples loose that I was just reaching for, zip--zip--zip--zip z--z--zip the distance between me and the earth being only eight feet, at once the ground and I came in close contact with each other, for purely military reasons ha! ha! and at once I absented myself from the orchard content to spend the rest of the lovely day in the billet behind the camouflage of grass, hay, twigs, rocks and wire, occasionally casting an admiring wistful glance toward the forbidden apples and (MISSING) berry why I never did (MISSING) many before I ate so much that I thought I never would (MISSING) my teeth again, I like them (MISSING).
This is not a very good place here. It rains 99 and 9-10 of the time we will leave here 10th or March or perhaps a (MISSING)days later.
We are scheduled to go through La Mans in April so (MISSING) apt to get home before (MISSING).
Heard from sister (MISSING) yesterday, also brother Ruby (MISSING) camp in Jacksonville, Florida.
Brother Earl is now at (MISSING) France.
Mamma when you write address your letters as you (MISSING) did--Co. D. 133 U.S. A.
American E.F. Don't put the name of any town in France on your letters for I might be a hundred miles from there when the letter comes.
I will write again soon answer soon. Love to all,
Your Soldier (MISSING)
Richard
NOTES: This letter was written by Richard Blaylock. There are a number of places near the end of the letter where the paper is missing.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
Lerouville, France,
Feb. 24, 1919.
Mr and Mrs. Muchmore,
Ozark, Arkansas.
Dear Mamma and Papa:
Received your letter yesterday and sure was glad for I had begun to think you were not going to write me anymore--that you had as time passed by forgotten your big "little boy". I had written many letters, not ever dreaming that you were not receiving them and not getting an answer, Finally I gave up with a sad heart, figuring I had lost my best friends on earth--but I'm glad it's only a case of our mail not going through, though I wish we could have kept in touch with each other all the way through, for your letters are always welcome, always bring sunshine and cheer, and make life easier to live.
When hitting the high places for a dugout from the Boche's big Bertha's many, many times I have thought of you and papa, and your teachings verbally but the one big lesson I learned from watching your everyday life and that is to be cheerful always, and no matter how adverse or difficult the circumstances to always see the bright side. When prowling 'round no man's land doing patrol duty, on dark cold rainy nights, making close search that the Boche was not hanging around there himself to do us harm, I say on just such occasions have I "lying close to mother earth to keep the Boche machine gunners fro seeing me while a flare was up".
Let my thoughts carry me far far away from that ghostly, haunted, shell-torn, so closely watched strip of land separating representatives of Democracy, and the fiendish, blood thirsty Huns. and I would like to remark here that I do not refer to all the enemy as Huns, blood-thirsty, anxious and eager to take human life ad glorying in the war game, for many of them were forced into the trenches against their will. Many of that type gave up every chance they had, but there were many that played the game willingly glad for the opportunity, and would hold up one hand yelling "kamrade" and shoot rapid fire with a machine gun with other hand. Every time we put up a first-aid station and put the red cross on it the Germans would start shelling that particular house, barn, or dugout and would not stop until they had completely wrecked it.
Last August we were up in the Orby Sector, billeted in what was left of an old church, built something like seven hundred years ago, the walls were five feet six inches thick. We had a fine spring of ice cold water running just in front of the church. I used to take a cold sponge bath about daylight, after patrolling nearly all night, ate a good breakfast and then go to bed for a good sleep, that is if the whiz bangs didn't get close enough to be annoying.
There was an apple orchard near the church, sometimes we would stroll out there to get some apples, but some times we came back quicker than we went, for the Boche would not even let us get a little fruit in peace.
One fine Sunday I was up one of the trees shaking down the apples, when in the distance towards Germany I heard, tat--tat--tat--tat a rat-tat and cutting apples loose that I was just reaching for, zip--zip--zip--zip z--z--zip the distance between me and the earth being only eight feet, at once the ground and I came in close contact with each other, for purely military reasons ha! ha! and at once I absented myself from the orchard content to spend the rest of the lovely day in the billet behind the camouflage of grass, hay, twigs, rocks and wire, occasionally casting an admiring wistful glance toward the forbidden apples and (MISSING) berry why I never did (MISSING) many before I ate so much that I thought I never would (MISSING) my teeth again, I like them (MISSING).
This is not a very good place here. It rains 99 and 9-10 of the time we will leave here 10th or March or perhaps a (MISSING)days later.
We are scheduled to go through La Mans in April so (MISSING) apt to get home before (MISSING).
Heard from sister (MISSING) yesterday, also brother Ruby (MISSING) camp in Jacksonville, Florida.
Brother Earl is now at (MISSING) France.
Mamma when you write address your letters as you (MISSING) did--Co. D. 133 U.S. A.
American E.F. Don't put the name of any town in France on your letters for I might be a hundred miles from there when the letter comes.
I will write again soon answer soon. Love to all,
Your Soldier (MISSING)
Richard
NOTES: This letter was written by Richard Blaylock. There are a number of places near the end of the letter where the paper is missing.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD