TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DAILY ARKANSAS GAZETTE JULY 10, 1918 P. 2
France is a beautiful country and the place I am now located is a summer resort. However, the breeze directly from the English channel is somewhat cooler than the balmy breeze from the Cadron. Salt water is much better for swimming, though.
Probably you would like to know what I am doing. Well, as Professor Staples, my old pal would say, here it is, to wit: I am signal man from the (CENSORED) to the (CENSORED), where the station is. I used the semaphore system and later the dot and dash. My hours are daylight to dark, which means from about 4:30 a.m. until 10:30 at night.
I am staying at a hotel; a very modern one, that Napoleon built, I think. Plenty of water—hot and cold—if you go down and draw it from a well and put it on the stove. The electric lights cannot be surpassed, provided you keep the window shut to keep from blowing out your candle. But when it comes to eats, we have ‘em. Everything is much cheaper here than in the States. I order what I want at each meal. Today for dinner I had veal cutlet, spring onions, radishes, lettuce, potatoes and milk (not buttermilk, like you used to serve me), and it cost me two francs, about 36 cents, and eggs over here are as plentiful as flies are in old ’18 Tabor Hall 90.’ Once in a while I indulge in eating a large crab or “claw,” or as Mr. Dellinger would say, a lobster. I have met many of my old friends over here from the states and nearly every ship brings someone I knew back at the station at Great Lakes.
I broke off part of my tooth the other week and went back to the dentist’s office to have it “vulcanized,” and they put me in a ward with a bunch of cripples, but I stayed there mostly all the time to talk with those good looking nurses. One boy went around singing “I Don’t Want to Get Well, I’m in Love With a Lovely Nurse.” I don’t blame him, for little Miss McCall from Virginia sure looked good to me. But soon I had to return to my station and now all the girls I ever see are those around here who wear wooden shoes, no hose and caps to match the hose. Men here are stylish. They wear long pretty black velvet streamers on their felt hats, wooden shoes with hobnails in soles and lined with straw to keep down friction in walking so much. Once in a while I can see a “native,” as Professor Staples would say, come creeping in barefooted. The younger boys and girls wear long clothes. It is right funny to see a 10-year-old boy wearing long trousers and an apron over that. The girls wear long black dressers with a heavy robe; on Sundays and holidays they have little white caps and their wooden shoes are polished. The horses over here, in comparison with the above animals mentioned, are much prettier. But there is a reason, I guess.
The other day I went out for a promenade and came to a farm house and per chance I went in to see the old boy who was making so much noise over a bottle of “conac.” He and his better half and a six-year-old addition were living in one room, his horse and razor back in the hall and his dining room and kitchen in the next room. This is why the stock is much better than them, I think, for they put themselves on an equal with them, (same floor and same house). But I don’t think they are on an equal with their horses. This is the life among the poorer class—the peasants. Of course the people who are much better educated are entirely different in living, and American customs and styles can be seen quite often.
But there are plenty of sights over here. Take a train over here and put it besides old 68 and it would look like the little electric that used to run around in Cole and Co.’s show window every Christmas. The passenger cars are about 15 feet long, four feet wide and as tall as the mail man who delivers mail on Center street. They accommodate from 18 to 20 people and baskets. Double seats on one side, single on the other. Both seats are stationary, but are lined with soft boards with intervening cracks for ventilation (I presume). Tickets are taken up at the end of the journey. They are first, second and third class tickets. So far I have been able to see no difference in either class so I have traveled second class, just split the difference. The street cars remind me of the cute little toys that Anderson sells to Mary Alpine and Sarah. They are something like American cars, but room for you if you get in. I don’t know what the fare is to ride on one of the things, I always get off about the time the conductor comes by and wait for another car. It’s cheaper, too.
But there are many things worth seeing—old walls, chateaus with roads fenced with beautiful evergreen hedges, and ancient temples, bridges and all the old things. Believe me, everything over here is old. Wine is made to drink and water to wash with, so say the French. I have noticed that they drink wine, all right, but not many of them die from pneumonia on account of washing their hides. They also tell me champagne is cheap; a bottle that would cost $8 in the states, costs about $2 over here.
Well, some of the boys over here write back to their homes and say they wished they were back home; of course I would like to see my mother and father sometime within the next four years, too, stop by Memphis on my way home, but I am having a good time, myself. Good weather, not much work, plenty to eat and a mother and daddy behind me to back me up in everything I do to bust Germany and her “isms.” What more could a Craig want!
Your nephew,
H. Grady Craig.
NOTES: Henry Grady Craig was writing to his aunt Miss Sallie Craig. He was born on June 5, 1895 in El Dorado, Arkansas and died on August 18, 1935 in El Dorado. He is buried in the Woodlawn Cemetery in El Dorado. He was a former Hendrix College student at Conway, Arkansas. He served in the Signal Services. He was described as being of medium height and build with brown eyes and light brown hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
France is a beautiful country and the place I am now located is a summer resort. However, the breeze directly from the English channel is somewhat cooler than the balmy breeze from the Cadron. Salt water is much better for swimming, though.
Probably you would like to know what I am doing. Well, as Professor Staples, my old pal would say, here it is, to wit: I am signal man from the (CENSORED) to the (CENSORED), where the station is. I used the semaphore system and later the dot and dash. My hours are daylight to dark, which means from about 4:30 a.m. until 10:30 at night.
I am staying at a hotel; a very modern one, that Napoleon built, I think. Plenty of water—hot and cold—if you go down and draw it from a well and put it on the stove. The electric lights cannot be surpassed, provided you keep the window shut to keep from blowing out your candle. But when it comes to eats, we have ‘em. Everything is much cheaper here than in the States. I order what I want at each meal. Today for dinner I had veal cutlet, spring onions, radishes, lettuce, potatoes and milk (not buttermilk, like you used to serve me), and it cost me two francs, about 36 cents, and eggs over here are as plentiful as flies are in old ’18 Tabor Hall 90.’ Once in a while I indulge in eating a large crab or “claw,” or as Mr. Dellinger would say, a lobster. I have met many of my old friends over here from the states and nearly every ship brings someone I knew back at the station at Great Lakes.
I broke off part of my tooth the other week and went back to the dentist’s office to have it “vulcanized,” and they put me in a ward with a bunch of cripples, but I stayed there mostly all the time to talk with those good looking nurses. One boy went around singing “I Don’t Want to Get Well, I’m in Love With a Lovely Nurse.” I don’t blame him, for little Miss McCall from Virginia sure looked good to me. But soon I had to return to my station and now all the girls I ever see are those around here who wear wooden shoes, no hose and caps to match the hose. Men here are stylish. They wear long pretty black velvet streamers on their felt hats, wooden shoes with hobnails in soles and lined with straw to keep down friction in walking so much. Once in a while I can see a “native,” as Professor Staples would say, come creeping in barefooted. The younger boys and girls wear long clothes. It is right funny to see a 10-year-old boy wearing long trousers and an apron over that. The girls wear long black dressers with a heavy robe; on Sundays and holidays they have little white caps and their wooden shoes are polished. The horses over here, in comparison with the above animals mentioned, are much prettier. But there is a reason, I guess.
The other day I went out for a promenade and came to a farm house and per chance I went in to see the old boy who was making so much noise over a bottle of “conac.” He and his better half and a six-year-old addition were living in one room, his horse and razor back in the hall and his dining room and kitchen in the next room. This is why the stock is much better than them, I think, for they put themselves on an equal with them, (same floor and same house). But I don’t think they are on an equal with their horses. This is the life among the poorer class—the peasants. Of course the people who are much better educated are entirely different in living, and American customs and styles can be seen quite often.
But there are plenty of sights over here. Take a train over here and put it besides old 68 and it would look like the little electric that used to run around in Cole and Co.’s show window every Christmas. The passenger cars are about 15 feet long, four feet wide and as tall as the mail man who delivers mail on Center street. They accommodate from 18 to 20 people and baskets. Double seats on one side, single on the other. Both seats are stationary, but are lined with soft boards with intervening cracks for ventilation (I presume). Tickets are taken up at the end of the journey. They are first, second and third class tickets. So far I have been able to see no difference in either class so I have traveled second class, just split the difference. The street cars remind me of the cute little toys that Anderson sells to Mary Alpine and Sarah. They are something like American cars, but room for you if you get in. I don’t know what the fare is to ride on one of the things, I always get off about the time the conductor comes by and wait for another car. It’s cheaper, too.
But there are many things worth seeing—old walls, chateaus with roads fenced with beautiful evergreen hedges, and ancient temples, bridges and all the old things. Believe me, everything over here is old. Wine is made to drink and water to wash with, so say the French. I have noticed that they drink wine, all right, but not many of them die from pneumonia on account of washing their hides. They also tell me champagne is cheap; a bottle that would cost $8 in the states, costs about $2 over here.
Well, some of the boys over here write back to their homes and say they wished they were back home; of course I would like to see my mother and father sometime within the next four years, too, stop by Memphis on my way home, but I am having a good time, myself. Good weather, not much work, plenty to eat and a mother and daddy behind me to back me up in everything I do to bust Germany and her “isms.” What more could a Craig want!
Your nephew,
H. Grady Craig.
NOTES: Henry Grady Craig was writing to his aunt Miss Sallie Craig. He was born on June 5, 1895 in El Dorado, Arkansas and died on August 18, 1935 in El Dorado. He is buried in the Woodlawn Cemetery in El Dorado. He was a former Hendrix College student at Conway, Arkansas. He served in the Signal Services. He was described as being of medium height and build with brown eyes and light brown hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT