TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DAILY ARKANSAS GAZETTE AUGUST 15, 1918 P. 3
Somewhere in France,
June 30th, 1918.
Dear Mr. Mansfield:
I received your welcome letter some time ago and have delayed writing for no good reason. Everything is lovely over here. I thought I would give you some idea in this letter that all the war is not trenches, misery and suffering.
Life in this great sister republic so far has been very pleasant to me. It has not been a day-in-and-day-out preposition dodging German shells or living in knee deep blood and mire of the trenches. However, I have had a dose of dodging, when on one occasion some German night raiders dropped 38 of their bombs in our little city. There were nine of their bombs fell within 200 feet of me. I’ll tell you it was a miserable feeling, to stand out in the night, hear the unmistakable purr of their motors overhead and the bombs bursting, each one nearer to you. To estimate the amount of noise you can just multiply all the thunder and fireworks you ever heard by two and then you can judge. In addition to the bombs bursting there is always the terrific barrage fire of the anti-aircraft batteries. One of those large bombs do a terrific amount of damage when they hit anything. In soft ground they make a hole about 25 feet in diameter and 8 feet deep. The shells of the “big Bertha” are a mere trifle compared to one of these bombs. I suppose we have had twenty raids since we have been here, but now we take them as a matter of course.
We are all very busy six days per week, arise at 5:20 in the morning, dress and eat breakfast and go to work at 6:45. We can scarcely realize we are soldiers for the men all wear overalls and seems very much like working at home. There is no fooling, everybody has to “hit the ball.” For nine hours per day. After work we are free until 10 o’clock. Our work is confined exclusively to French aeroplanes of all types About half the company rebuild the motors and the bunch I have charge of do the rest—assemble, repair, adjust and test the machines. It is wonderful education, but really the aeroplane has been simplified until they seem ordinary. I was just looking at one of Lieut. Fonck’s (the great French ace), it is a Spad, the wonderful French monoplane fighter, the fastest thing the war has developed. The Germans have no machine that can touch it. It is a very small machine with an 8-cyclinder Hispano Suira motor of 220-horsepower. For armament it carries two machine guns and a special Spad cannon of approximately 2-inch bore, just half the diameter of the famous French “scixantequine,” or an English 75 millimeter. You would scarcely think a man could drive a very touchy machine, shoot a cannon and two machine guns at the same time, but they do it every day. All the planes are built so if properly assembled will fly themselves on a straight, level course. Some of the planes are very large, one would hardly think it possible for so big a machine as some of them are to fly through the air with so little difficulty. We have any number of planes here that carry four men and a thousand pounds of bombs. With walkways from the front to the rear. You could easily make a bed in them and go to sleep. There is an English bomber that can carry 25 men and their equipment. Each month there are new planes coming out that make others obsolete.
The Germans develop a plane that is faster than the French which makes their best machines obsolete. Here is a rare thing. The motor that the Germans use in their most advanced machine is the same motor that they developed in 1908. All their motors are six cylindered and wonderful motors. The tires that they use are all made in the U.S. or rather were made there.
I have been up many, many times, there is nothing to it. I suppose I have had more hours in the air than a dozen American pilots put together. You have no sensation that you are going fast at all. It does not compare to a good automobile for thrills. After the first ride it is very ordinary, I do not crave any of that over the line flying however. They get them all sooner or later. We will all soon get a chance at it, as all the aviation forces over here come next.
Was talking to some of the boys from the front the other day. There has been considerable excitement up there from what they tell. A marine sergeant was telling me, they had had two fresh divisions of American troops up there when the Germans made their last drive, they could have put them to flight. “Over the top” is nothing to these boys, long periods of inactivity in the trenches make them anxious. When they come back for a rest they all laugh and joke about the whole thing. Met a young fellow I knew in Little Rock he has been up and had actual hand to hand fighting with the Germans. He says its hell, and there is no use in talking, it is just that way. He is back now and says he hopes he will stay back here. And he is no coward either. The French and English tell the same thing.
Our food is very good, have plenty of good wholesome well cooked food three times a day. The horsemeat is fine, however, at first when I realized I was eating horse it was rather hard to swallow. But now it is all the same. A nice steak from a good old horse is not to be despised or refused.
Everyone that is over here will be better for the experience and the army life will make a bigger man of anyone. The assertion that the army will make or break a man is erroneous, if it is not in a man it cannot hurt and if there is good in him it will assert itself. We will all come back, better mentally, morally and physically than when he left, the experience we get will give us a wider conception of right and wrong and the big and little of life.
Everyone is working hard and each person is a valuable cog in one of the greatest machines the world has ever known. A few more cogs and the machine will be finished, then will begin the great drive for Berlin, and as the song goes, “We won’t be back till its over overthere.” After all this is not a letter about the war of flying machines but just a few lines from one of the “cogs” overhere that is busy in the job of helping keep American liberty. All ends should be bent to get this unpleasant job overwith so we can all get back home, that’s where everyone wants to be.
NOTES: Arthur Doudna Derby was writing to E. J. Mansfield of the Arkansas Lumber Company in Warren, Arkansas where Derby worked before enlisting. He was born on October 24, 1893 in Pueblo, Colorado and died on November 25, 1962 in Houston, Texas. He is buried in the Forest Park Cemetery in Houston. He was described as being tall and of medium build with blue eyes and light hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
Somewhere in France,
June 30th, 1918.
Dear Mr. Mansfield:
I received your welcome letter some time ago and have delayed writing for no good reason. Everything is lovely over here. I thought I would give you some idea in this letter that all the war is not trenches, misery and suffering.
Life in this great sister republic so far has been very pleasant to me. It has not been a day-in-and-day-out preposition dodging German shells or living in knee deep blood and mire of the trenches. However, I have had a dose of dodging, when on one occasion some German night raiders dropped 38 of their bombs in our little city. There were nine of their bombs fell within 200 feet of me. I’ll tell you it was a miserable feeling, to stand out in the night, hear the unmistakable purr of their motors overhead and the bombs bursting, each one nearer to you. To estimate the amount of noise you can just multiply all the thunder and fireworks you ever heard by two and then you can judge. In addition to the bombs bursting there is always the terrific barrage fire of the anti-aircraft batteries. One of those large bombs do a terrific amount of damage when they hit anything. In soft ground they make a hole about 25 feet in diameter and 8 feet deep. The shells of the “big Bertha” are a mere trifle compared to one of these bombs. I suppose we have had twenty raids since we have been here, but now we take them as a matter of course.
We are all very busy six days per week, arise at 5:20 in the morning, dress and eat breakfast and go to work at 6:45. We can scarcely realize we are soldiers for the men all wear overalls and seems very much like working at home. There is no fooling, everybody has to “hit the ball.” For nine hours per day. After work we are free until 10 o’clock. Our work is confined exclusively to French aeroplanes of all types About half the company rebuild the motors and the bunch I have charge of do the rest—assemble, repair, adjust and test the machines. It is wonderful education, but really the aeroplane has been simplified until they seem ordinary. I was just looking at one of Lieut. Fonck’s (the great French ace), it is a Spad, the wonderful French monoplane fighter, the fastest thing the war has developed. The Germans have no machine that can touch it. It is a very small machine with an 8-cyclinder Hispano Suira motor of 220-horsepower. For armament it carries two machine guns and a special Spad cannon of approximately 2-inch bore, just half the diameter of the famous French “scixantequine,” or an English 75 millimeter. You would scarcely think a man could drive a very touchy machine, shoot a cannon and two machine guns at the same time, but they do it every day. All the planes are built so if properly assembled will fly themselves on a straight, level course. Some of the planes are very large, one would hardly think it possible for so big a machine as some of them are to fly through the air with so little difficulty. We have any number of planes here that carry four men and a thousand pounds of bombs. With walkways from the front to the rear. You could easily make a bed in them and go to sleep. There is an English bomber that can carry 25 men and their equipment. Each month there are new planes coming out that make others obsolete.
The Germans develop a plane that is faster than the French which makes their best machines obsolete. Here is a rare thing. The motor that the Germans use in their most advanced machine is the same motor that they developed in 1908. All their motors are six cylindered and wonderful motors. The tires that they use are all made in the U.S. or rather were made there.
I have been up many, many times, there is nothing to it. I suppose I have had more hours in the air than a dozen American pilots put together. You have no sensation that you are going fast at all. It does not compare to a good automobile for thrills. After the first ride it is very ordinary, I do not crave any of that over the line flying however. They get them all sooner or later. We will all soon get a chance at it, as all the aviation forces over here come next.
Was talking to some of the boys from the front the other day. There has been considerable excitement up there from what they tell. A marine sergeant was telling me, they had had two fresh divisions of American troops up there when the Germans made their last drive, they could have put them to flight. “Over the top” is nothing to these boys, long periods of inactivity in the trenches make them anxious. When they come back for a rest they all laugh and joke about the whole thing. Met a young fellow I knew in Little Rock he has been up and had actual hand to hand fighting with the Germans. He says its hell, and there is no use in talking, it is just that way. He is back now and says he hopes he will stay back here. And he is no coward either. The French and English tell the same thing.
Our food is very good, have plenty of good wholesome well cooked food three times a day. The horsemeat is fine, however, at first when I realized I was eating horse it was rather hard to swallow. But now it is all the same. A nice steak from a good old horse is not to be despised or refused.
Everyone that is over here will be better for the experience and the army life will make a bigger man of anyone. The assertion that the army will make or break a man is erroneous, if it is not in a man it cannot hurt and if there is good in him it will assert itself. We will all come back, better mentally, morally and physically than when he left, the experience we get will give us a wider conception of right and wrong and the big and little of life.
Everyone is working hard and each person is a valuable cog in one of the greatest machines the world has ever known. A few more cogs and the machine will be finished, then will begin the great drive for Berlin, and as the song goes, “We won’t be back till its over overthere.” After all this is not a letter about the war of flying machines but just a few lines from one of the “cogs” overhere that is busy in the job of helping keep American liberty. All ends should be bent to get this unpleasant job overwith so we can all get back home, that’s where everyone wants to be.
NOTES: Arthur Doudna Derby was writing to E. J. Mansfield of the Arkansas Lumber Company in Warren, Arkansas where Derby worked before enlisting. He was born on October 24, 1893 in Pueblo, Colorado and died on November 25, 1962 in Houston, Texas. He is buried in the Forest Park Cemetery in Houston. He was described as being tall and of medium build with blue eyes and light hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT