TRANSCRIBED FROM THE PRESCOTT DAILY NEWS DECEMBER 24, 1918 P. 2
France, Nov. 11th, 1918.
My Dear Mother:
Mama this is the greatest day in the history of the world; it is the greatest day that I ever expect to live in. This day (only an hour ago) the last gun was fired, and mama I was on the front when the last sound from our guns died away. I heard the last crack of one of "Fritz's" 77s that I will ever hear again. Both sides were firing heavily right up to the last minute. I will tell you how it ended with me in the sector where I was.
You remember I wrote you that I was back in a village having a rest; well, this rest only lasted five days when we were called out for the last big offensive. We went straight to our regiment who were at that time in reserve. (I had another fellow helping me.) I first saw that all our guns were well equipped with camouflage and then I sat back and took it easy until our regiment pulled into the line.
We went in on the night of the 9th. We have to move up once that night and once the next morning because the Germans were moving back so fast. All day Nov. 10th our batteries gave Fritz and Fritz in return gave us.
That night we heard that an armistice was going to be signed at eleven, the next morning, and that firing would cease. On the morning of the eleventh the sun came out gloriously, so did Fritz's shells. (It seemed that Fritz was trying to see how many shells he could throw over before eleven o'clock.)
At twenty minutes till eleven I saw a chaplain get killed. They buried him in the village church yard with the usual military ceremonies. At exactly eleven o'clock I stepped out of my "office" and to my ears came the strains of The Star Spangled Banner. Mama the thrill was so great that I could hardly stand. With an effort I pulled myself to attention and saluted, even now I am trembling so I can hardly write. My God, but this is a day that no living man could ever forget.
Now the 12th--I just could not finish this yesterday so will try to finish it now.
I saw about two hundred Italians pass through this morning. They were prisoners in Germany. My, but they sure look pretty bad--undernourished. But on their face they wear a smile that causes a thrill.
Everywhere now quietness reigns. No more crashing of shells, or booming of cannons. The people of the allies sure have heaps to thank God for.
After lunch--I saw more ex-prisoners of war march through, mostly all of them were Italian, although there were some French and one or two Americans, and a few civilians who were held by the Germans.
I don't know what we will do now. I suppose, though, that we will follow them up, although I wouldn't mind remaining in this town for a few days, because I am very well quartered here. By the way, you should see my room--the town that we are now in is only 4,000 metres from the front line, but it hasn't been shelled very much, because the Huns of course were moving back pretty rapidly, and the only time it was shelled was Saturday night and Sunday morning up till 11 o'clock, so of course they couldn't do so much damage in that length of time.
My room is on the second floor looking out on Rue de Lafayette. It has a bed with a feather mattres, a mahogany center table, a very pretty mantle and a large looking glass, also a plush chair. I have everything except a candle, and it is just what I need at this minute, but I suppose I have written enough , so will close.
Your loving son,
Brice Cummins.
NOTES: Cummins departed from New York, NY on September 10, 1917 onboard the Carpathia. He was serving as a Private in Co. A, 2nd Engineers. He returned to the US departing Brest, France on January 9, 1919 on board the Goentoer. He arrived in New York, NY on January 24, 1919. He was serving as a Sgt. of Co. I, 40th Engineers.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
France, Nov. 11th, 1918.
My Dear Mother:
Mama this is the greatest day in the history of the world; it is the greatest day that I ever expect to live in. This day (only an hour ago) the last gun was fired, and mama I was on the front when the last sound from our guns died away. I heard the last crack of one of "Fritz's" 77s that I will ever hear again. Both sides were firing heavily right up to the last minute. I will tell you how it ended with me in the sector where I was.
You remember I wrote you that I was back in a village having a rest; well, this rest only lasted five days when we were called out for the last big offensive. We went straight to our regiment who were at that time in reserve. (I had another fellow helping me.) I first saw that all our guns were well equipped with camouflage and then I sat back and took it easy until our regiment pulled into the line.
We went in on the night of the 9th. We have to move up once that night and once the next morning because the Germans were moving back so fast. All day Nov. 10th our batteries gave Fritz and Fritz in return gave us.
That night we heard that an armistice was going to be signed at eleven, the next morning, and that firing would cease. On the morning of the eleventh the sun came out gloriously, so did Fritz's shells. (It seemed that Fritz was trying to see how many shells he could throw over before eleven o'clock.)
At twenty minutes till eleven I saw a chaplain get killed. They buried him in the village church yard with the usual military ceremonies. At exactly eleven o'clock I stepped out of my "office" and to my ears came the strains of The Star Spangled Banner. Mama the thrill was so great that I could hardly stand. With an effort I pulled myself to attention and saluted, even now I am trembling so I can hardly write. My God, but this is a day that no living man could ever forget.
Now the 12th--I just could not finish this yesterday so will try to finish it now.
I saw about two hundred Italians pass through this morning. They were prisoners in Germany. My, but they sure look pretty bad--undernourished. But on their face they wear a smile that causes a thrill.
Everywhere now quietness reigns. No more crashing of shells, or booming of cannons. The people of the allies sure have heaps to thank God for.
After lunch--I saw more ex-prisoners of war march through, mostly all of them were Italian, although there were some French and one or two Americans, and a few civilians who were held by the Germans.
I don't know what we will do now. I suppose, though, that we will follow them up, although I wouldn't mind remaining in this town for a few days, because I am very well quartered here. By the way, you should see my room--the town that we are now in is only 4,000 metres from the front line, but it hasn't been shelled very much, because the Huns of course were moving back pretty rapidly, and the only time it was shelled was Saturday night and Sunday morning up till 11 o'clock, so of course they couldn't do so much damage in that length of time.
My room is on the second floor looking out on Rue de Lafayette. It has a bed with a feather mattres, a mahogany center table, a very pretty mantle and a large looking glass, also a plush chair. I have everything except a candle, and it is just what I need at this minute, but I suppose I have written enough , so will close.
Your loving son,
Brice Cummins.
NOTES: Cummins departed from New York, NY on September 10, 1917 onboard the Carpathia. He was serving as a Private in Co. A, 2nd Engineers. He returned to the US departing Brest, France on January 9, 1919 on board the Goentoer. He arrived in New York, NY on January 24, 1919. He was serving as a Sgt. of Co. I, 40th Engineers.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD