TRANSCRIBED FROM THE NORTH ARKANSAS STAR AND CARROLL PROGRESS APRIL 4, 1919 P. 4
Dear Home Folks.
Well you see my trip home has not materialized as I expected it to.
When we were informed we were to leave Toul we thought sure we would go straight to Bordeaux and soon be on our way across the pond.
Our Lieut. told us we were waiting but pretty soon we found out we were coming to this place and our morale dropped down to zero.
I think the reason they sent us here is to form us into companies and make the companies up from men in the same state. There are so many men here it may take a few weeks for them to get to me but I think it will not be long, as they seem to be sending them out pretty fast. Some are here only a day or two before they are put in a company and are sent out the next day or two. Others are here several weeks before they are put in a company. I have only been here two or three days and am in no company so I can’t say how long I’ll be here. I am hoping to be back in time to celebrate my birthday but may be disappointed. They are improving things around this camp and it isn’t so disagreeable as it was before when I was here. They have been making wooden walks so we don’t have to walk in the mud and we don’t have to stand in “chow” line so long. There is an awful bunch of us here and we remind myself of a big bunch of hogs the way we eat. There are long lines of soldiers lined up for “mess” and the ones who have been working are lined together and go ahead of the others. Then the other lines go and it makes one line mad to see it is not one of the first to eat and that is part of the operation that reminds me of a herd of pigs.
They have guards to herd us up to the kitchen and if they were not there I’m sure we would all break and run for the kitchen and squeal, fight and the only difference from pigs would be in looks and shape. It is not that we are hungry, it is principally because each fellow wants to be first.
I used to feel sorry for a bunch of hogs to see them squealing for something to eat and to watch them after they were eating. I would think they were almost starved. But never again will I sympathize with the brutes for I see that we are just like them, or would be if it wasn’t for the guards with guns, and the danger of being put in a labor battalion and kept over here, and I know we are not suffering from hunger and it is nature with the pig to squeal and eat like a hog so he needs no sympathy.
But one kind of beast I have learned needs sympathy, and that is a horse. I know I would make a better hog than horse for I hate to do a days work more than I ever hated to work a month or year. I feel just like an old plug of a farm horse should feel, standing in his stall with the harness on and waiting for the old farmer to come and hitch him to a plow or something. He knows he gets plenty to eat whether he works or not and the more he gets out of the better off he is. He (if he was a smart horse) might be in a small pasture where he could run, jump the fence and get away when he saw the farmer coming to get him for a little work, but would stay and let his master take him rather than running the risk of taking a hard whipping after running away and the farmer catching him later. He might go A.W.O.L. for a day or two and have a good time eating good green grass and doing no detail but if his was a wise old nag as I am a wise soldier, he would stand in his little pasture and do the work that was put on him rather than take the punishment after dodging a detail or going AWOL and getting caught. The reason I so sympathize with the horse is that he will be the same all his life and I expect to be transformed into a man of freedom soon. It’s not the work that hurts, its knowing that you’re in the harness and can’t kick out and knowing you have to do it. It’s not nature for a man to be drove around you know.
When I’m on detail I act like I like it. I think thats the best plan. A horse that kicks out of his harness when he is hitched up generally is put in a stronger set, one that he can’t kick out of and takes a beating on top so it doesn’t pay to kick.
It rains here almost every day, is raining now and I hear a soldier with a shovel, shoveling close to my tent. The farmer is letting me rest today, but I expect to see him stick his head in any minute and say “all out for detail.” Well guess thats enough writing for this time, don’t look for me for a few days,
Your loving son,
Private H. M. Case.
NOTES: Howard Marion Case was writing to his father A. M. Case. He was a telegraph operator for the U.P. railroad when he entered the service. When he sailed for France he was listed as a Pvt. in a replacement draft for the Signal Corps. He was born on April 19, 1891 in Batavia, Arkansas and died on February 18, 1952 in Eaton, Colorado. He is buried in the Eaton Cemetery in Eaton. He was described as being of medium height and build with gray eyes and brown hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
Dear Home Folks.
Well you see my trip home has not materialized as I expected it to.
When we were informed we were to leave Toul we thought sure we would go straight to Bordeaux and soon be on our way across the pond.
Our Lieut. told us we were waiting but pretty soon we found out we were coming to this place and our morale dropped down to zero.
I think the reason they sent us here is to form us into companies and make the companies up from men in the same state. There are so many men here it may take a few weeks for them to get to me but I think it will not be long, as they seem to be sending them out pretty fast. Some are here only a day or two before they are put in a company and are sent out the next day or two. Others are here several weeks before they are put in a company. I have only been here two or three days and am in no company so I can’t say how long I’ll be here. I am hoping to be back in time to celebrate my birthday but may be disappointed. They are improving things around this camp and it isn’t so disagreeable as it was before when I was here. They have been making wooden walks so we don’t have to walk in the mud and we don’t have to stand in “chow” line so long. There is an awful bunch of us here and we remind myself of a big bunch of hogs the way we eat. There are long lines of soldiers lined up for “mess” and the ones who have been working are lined together and go ahead of the others. Then the other lines go and it makes one line mad to see it is not one of the first to eat and that is part of the operation that reminds me of a herd of pigs.
They have guards to herd us up to the kitchen and if they were not there I’m sure we would all break and run for the kitchen and squeal, fight and the only difference from pigs would be in looks and shape. It is not that we are hungry, it is principally because each fellow wants to be first.
I used to feel sorry for a bunch of hogs to see them squealing for something to eat and to watch them after they were eating. I would think they were almost starved. But never again will I sympathize with the brutes for I see that we are just like them, or would be if it wasn’t for the guards with guns, and the danger of being put in a labor battalion and kept over here, and I know we are not suffering from hunger and it is nature with the pig to squeal and eat like a hog so he needs no sympathy.
But one kind of beast I have learned needs sympathy, and that is a horse. I know I would make a better hog than horse for I hate to do a days work more than I ever hated to work a month or year. I feel just like an old plug of a farm horse should feel, standing in his stall with the harness on and waiting for the old farmer to come and hitch him to a plow or something. He knows he gets plenty to eat whether he works or not and the more he gets out of the better off he is. He (if he was a smart horse) might be in a small pasture where he could run, jump the fence and get away when he saw the farmer coming to get him for a little work, but would stay and let his master take him rather than running the risk of taking a hard whipping after running away and the farmer catching him later. He might go A.W.O.L. for a day or two and have a good time eating good green grass and doing no detail but if his was a wise old nag as I am a wise soldier, he would stand in his little pasture and do the work that was put on him rather than take the punishment after dodging a detail or going AWOL and getting caught. The reason I so sympathize with the horse is that he will be the same all his life and I expect to be transformed into a man of freedom soon. It’s not the work that hurts, its knowing that you’re in the harness and can’t kick out and knowing you have to do it. It’s not nature for a man to be drove around you know.
When I’m on detail I act like I like it. I think thats the best plan. A horse that kicks out of his harness when he is hitched up generally is put in a stronger set, one that he can’t kick out of and takes a beating on top so it doesn’t pay to kick.
It rains here almost every day, is raining now and I hear a soldier with a shovel, shoveling close to my tent. The farmer is letting me rest today, but I expect to see him stick his head in any minute and say “all out for detail.” Well guess thats enough writing for this time, don’t look for me for a few days,
Your loving son,
Private H. M. Case.
NOTES: Howard Marion Case was writing to his father A. M. Case. He was a telegraph operator for the U.P. railroad when he entered the service. When he sailed for France he was listed as a Pvt. in a replacement draft for the Signal Corps. He was born on April 19, 1891 in Batavia, Arkansas and died on February 18, 1952 in Eaton, Colorado. He is buried in the Eaton Cemetery in Eaton. He was described as being of medium height and build with gray eyes and brown hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT