TRANSCRIBED FROM THE SPRINGDALE NEWS JULY 15, 1918 P. 3
Somewhere in France,
June 5.
Mr. and Mrs. G. W. Kennan, Springdale, Ark
My very dear friends:
Your very kind letters came to me some time ago and I was extremely pleased to hear from you and I thank you for the many kind things you said.
Mail from home, from our friends is one of the best joys that fall to the lot of the soldier over here in France. Everything may be going wrong and a fellow be feeling as blue as indigo, but just let that same fellow be handed some mail from his dear people and friends at home and your immediately have a changed soldier. He is again the carefree, singing, whistling soldier, the mood that a young fellow must be in to do a man's work. The commander who thoroughly knows his men will invariably insist on their good humor regardless of what their work may be--digging ditches or bagging Huns--he knows the job is half finished if his men are in a happy mood and that's where our friends in the dear old U.S. can help by keeping the boys happy with frequent letters.
As you may know I have been in France over six months now and have seen the greater portion of it, having been stationed at many different points, and have done about everything except that which I expected to do when I came over. When I left Atlanta after a two months' course in a ground school there, I fully expected to be flying within the month in either France or Italy. Six months after leaving Atlanta I had my first flight. That was a month ago today and I have been flying every day since. For me the air has a call that I can't resist: one feels liquid fire in his veins. I think all the emotions, every known sensation that can come to a person is experienced in flying.
To me France is beautiful from the ground prospective, but its beauty from the air is away beyond my power of description. The green fields stretch as far as the eye can see, they appear as a vast velvet carpet, the crimson poppy fields, the red clover fields (a read that is so deep that it is almost purple) and the plowed fields appear as a part of the pattern--the wonderful French highways, white, cleancut, connect the little villages that are scattered all over the carpet--villages all just alike--the church with its high tower in the center, the red roofed houses clustered about give one the impression of an old hen with her little chicks huddled around her. The canals and rivers shinning in the sun give the picture a frame of silver.
With al lthis spread out beneath you it is hard to realize that you are within sound of the big guns, that you are within a million miles of a terrible war.
I am glad that I am here. I am glad that I am flying. It is wonderful to go spinning, swirling, whirling, rising, falling, diving, dipping, stalling, nosing spiralling, ripping, slipping, tumbling through the air. Fear. courage, defiance, danger, hope, despair, elation, love, sympathy, esteem, respect excitement joy--they are all a part of the airman's brief hour.
We arise 4:30 a.m., have coffee and go to the flying field at 5:00, fly until 9:00 a.m. have a lecture in French at 10. Lunch at 11:00. Then a nap of an hour or two, another lecture at 4:00 p.m.. Supper at 9:15. In this climate that schedule gives us the best hours for flying. One morning each week we do not go to the field, but rest or if we wish can go to some of the surrounding villages. This is a French school and we are the first Americans in this sector and of course were looked upon with more or less curiosity when we first arrived. Everywhere that I have been the French have treated me fine. The spirit and courage that they display has certainly endeared them to me forevermore.
Our instructors can't speak English but the most of us can understand enough French to get what they are talking about so everything is lovely. Of course our long wait was rather tedious and tiresome but that I am actually flying I am rather glad because of the experience gained during that time that may someday prove of great value.
This is the first place that I have been where we have lived in billets, having always before lived in barracks. Two of my friends and I rented an attic room (20 x 30 feet) from a lady whose husband is at the front. We have our cots and bedding rolls and are comfortable if not elaborately situated. The madame looks after us like we were children and we thoroughly enjoy the novelty of the life. She prepares our toast and eggs at night, does our mending and won my heart the first day by putting a vase of flowers on our table which is refilled every day. We have made a pet of her little daughter and am afraid our combined attentions are going to spoil her.
How are Earl and Ray? I have thought often of writing to both, but it seems that I am ever behind with my letters. I could hardly believe my eyes the other day when I saw in The News where Audry was playing on the High School ball team. It seems such a little while ago that he was just a babe. Of course I saw him when last in Springdale, but my clearest memories of him are when he was quite small.
I haven't as yet met anyone over here from Springdale. Of course so many of my friends have left there and there are so many new faces there that when I was last there I felt almost an entire stranger.
Theron Slaughter and I are not very far apart now. We are both entitled to leave and are going to try to arrange to take it together when the present situation clears up a bit.
Someone wrote me that Harry Brogdon and Argile Langston were in the Aviation. I would be most happy to meet some of my old friends over here and I doubtless shall if they are in this branch of the service Has Eva Atwood crossed yet? Many of my nurses from Texas are over, but I haven't seen them. Mother wrote that Lockwood Searcy was to enter training soon.
It was with much pride and satisfaction that we read of the success of the Third Liberty Loan Bond sale and the Red Cross drive. We are also pleased to know that the slacker is finding the road rather rough going, for this is everybody's war and none should shirk. One of my friends has expressed it very well in these words.
"We all have tasks from which there is no exemption claim;
For old or young, or rich, or poor, the duty is the same.
From linked hearts seize double strength! And all along the line
This war is yours and ours and her's and his and
Thine and --Mine!"
I wish it were possible to tell you some of the interesting things that happen over here 'tis very hard to write an interesting letter when there are so many interesting things to write about but so few things of interest that we may mention. Rather a garbled statement but I am sure you understand the situation. However, I hope after victory is our's that we may all have a reunion and I can then tell you some of the experiences that I am not permitted to write.
Our commissions came the other day but our active orders have not arrived. Owing to an arbitrary ruling that was made after I made application for a commission I have received a 2nd Lieutenancy instead of 1st. We have hopes, however, of this order being rescinded.
I send my best wishes to you and all my Springdale friends. I often think of you and will ever remember your many kindnesses to me during my boyhood days with you. I shall always be glad to hear from you. God bless and keep you. You are very dear to me.
Yours devotedly,
Gus.
NOTES: This letter was written by Gus Daily. He was born in Arkansas in October 1888.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
Somewhere in France,
June 5.
Mr. and Mrs. G. W. Kennan, Springdale, Ark
My very dear friends:
Your very kind letters came to me some time ago and I was extremely pleased to hear from you and I thank you for the many kind things you said.
Mail from home, from our friends is one of the best joys that fall to the lot of the soldier over here in France. Everything may be going wrong and a fellow be feeling as blue as indigo, but just let that same fellow be handed some mail from his dear people and friends at home and your immediately have a changed soldier. He is again the carefree, singing, whistling soldier, the mood that a young fellow must be in to do a man's work. The commander who thoroughly knows his men will invariably insist on their good humor regardless of what their work may be--digging ditches or bagging Huns--he knows the job is half finished if his men are in a happy mood and that's where our friends in the dear old U.S. can help by keeping the boys happy with frequent letters.
As you may know I have been in France over six months now and have seen the greater portion of it, having been stationed at many different points, and have done about everything except that which I expected to do when I came over. When I left Atlanta after a two months' course in a ground school there, I fully expected to be flying within the month in either France or Italy. Six months after leaving Atlanta I had my first flight. That was a month ago today and I have been flying every day since. For me the air has a call that I can't resist: one feels liquid fire in his veins. I think all the emotions, every known sensation that can come to a person is experienced in flying.
To me France is beautiful from the ground prospective, but its beauty from the air is away beyond my power of description. The green fields stretch as far as the eye can see, they appear as a vast velvet carpet, the crimson poppy fields, the red clover fields (a read that is so deep that it is almost purple) and the plowed fields appear as a part of the pattern--the wonderful French highways, white, cleancut, connect the little villages that are scattered all over the carpet--villages all just alike--the church with its high tower in the center, the red roofed houses clustered about give one the impression of an old hen with her little chicks huddled around her. The canals and rivers shinning in the sun give the picture a frame of silver.
With al lthis spread out beneath you it is hard to realize that you are within sound of the big guns, that you are within a million miles of a terrible war.
I am glad that I am here. I am glad that I am flying. It is wonderful to go spinning, swirling, whirling, rising, falling, diving, dipping, stalling, nosing spiralling, ripping, slipping, tumbling through the air. Fear. courage, defiance, danger, hope, despair, elation, love, sympathy, esteem, respect excitement joy--they are all a part of the airman's brief hour.
We arise 4:30 a.m., have coffee and go to the flying field at 5:00, fly until 9:00 a.m. have a lecture in French at 10. Lunch at 11:00. Then a nap of an hour or two, another lecture at 4:00 p.m.. Supper at 9:15. In this climate that schedule gives us the best hours for flying. One morning each week we do not go to the field, but rest or if we wish can go to some of the surrounding villages. This is a French school and we are the first Americans in this sector and of course were looked upon with more or less curiosity when we first arrived. Everywhere that I have been the French have treated me fine. The spirit and courage that they display has certainly endeared them to me forevermore.
Our instructors can't speak English but the most of us can understand enough French to get what they are talking about so everything is lovely. Of course our long wait was rather tedious and tiresome but that I am actually flying I am rather glad because of the experience gained during that time that may someday prove of great value.
This is the first place that I have been where we have lived in billets, having always before lived in barracks. Two of my friends and I rented an attic room (20 x 30 feet) from a lady whose husband is at the front. We have our cots and bedding rolls and are comfortable if not elaborately situated. The madame looks after us like we were children and we thoroughly enjoy the novelty of the life. She prepares our toast and eggs at night, does our mending and won my heart the first day by putting a vase of flowers on our table which is refilled every day. We have made a pet of her little daughter and am afraid our combined attentions are going to spoil her.
How are Earl and Ray? I have thought often of writing to both, but it seems that I am ever behind with my letters. I could hardly believe my eyes the other day when I saw in The News where Audry was playing on the High School ball team. It seems such a little while ago that he was just a babe. Of course I saw him when last in Springdale, but my clearest memories of him are when he was quite small.
I haven't as yet met anyone over here from Springdale. Of course so many of my friends have left there and there are so many new faces there that when I was last there I felt almost an entire stranger.
Theron Slaughter and I are not very far apart now. We are both entitled to leave and are going to try to arrange to take it together when the present situation clears up a bit.
Someone wrote me that Harry Brogdon and Argile Langston were in the Aviation. I would be most happy to meet some of my old friends over here and I doubtless shall if they are in this branch of the service Has Eva Atwood crossed yet? Many of my nurses from Texas are over, but I haven't seen them. Mother wrote that Lockwood Searcy was to enter training soon.
It was with much pride and satisfaction that we read of the success of the Third Liberty Loan Bond sale and the Red Cross drive. We are also pleased to know that the slacker is finding the road rather rough going, for this is everybody's war and none should shirk. One of my friends has expressed it very well in these words.
"We all have tasks from which there is no exemption claim;
For old or young, or rich, or poor, the duty is the same.
From linked hearts seize double strength! And all along the line
This war is yours and ours and her's and his and
Thine and --Mine!"
I wish it were possible to tell you some of the interesting things that happen over here 'tis very hard to write an interesting letter when there are so many interesting things to write about but so few things of interest that we may mention. Rather a garbled statement but I am sure you understand the situation. However, I hope after victory is our's that we may all have a reunion and I can then tell you some of the experiences that I am not permitted to write.
Our commissions came the other day but our active orders have not arrived. Owing to an arbitrary ruling that was made after I made application for a commission I have received a 2nd Lieutenancy instead of 1st. We have hopes, however, of this order being rescinded.
I send my best wishes to you and all my Springdale friends. I often think of you and will ever remember your many kindnesses to me during my boyhood days with you. I shall always be glad to hear from you. God bless and keep you. You are very dear to me.
Yours devotedly,
Gus.
NOTES: This letter was written by Gus Daily. He was born in Arkansas in October 1888.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD