TRANSCRIBED FROM THE SOUTHERN STANDARD DECEMBER 12, 1918 P. 2
St. Aignon, France
Nov. 2, 1918
My Dear Mamma:
It would be very hard for you to imagine my joy, when today I got one of your letters and also a copy of the Standard. I know of nothing that does a fellow so much good as one of these letter expressing so much love and news from home. It drives away the blues quicker than anything else a man can get.
Well, mamma you may rest assured that at the present i am well and haven’t got into any mischief since I landed over-seas. I find it no more difficult to be a man here than at home. Anyone, if he chooses can do the right thing at any old place. I’m doing my best not to disappoint you and papa in my manner of living and conduct as a man. It is true, I may never win the honor of getting a Croix de Guerve or have a personal fight with ‘Kaiser Bill’ but I do wish to come back to the dear old states a better man than when I left them.
Mamma, I am still working in the statistical office and am getting plenty of work to keep me busy. In fact I’ve but very little time in which to write letters. But, mamma dear, when I think of the happy meeting we will have in the near future of the ones I really love best, I am willing to work with all the vim and energy I posess.
My sleeping quarters are on the second floor of what was before the war a hay barn. In regard to sanitation, these quarters are in the prime of condition. We have many magazines and books to read and nobody would ever suspect that our home here had ever been a barn.
Upon the floor of this barn and old Frenchman has a wine press and is now making wine. In this part of France growing grapes and making of wines is the chief occupation. In my opinion this wine would be much better if thrown into the river. The Frenchman drinks no water but drinks wine at every meal and sometimes between meals.
These French people have funny, very funny customs. Each Sunday is a regular fair day in Aignon. On that day the farmer brings everything he has for sale to town. Most all of the farmers are, of course, women. Among the things they bring are vegetables, eggs, butter, chickens, goats, pork and rabbits. Practically every woman has a couple of milch goats, a cow and a pen full of rabbits. You may rest assured that these rabbits are not kept to amuse the children.
The farmers here do not live on their farms as they do at home, but instead live in villages and go out to their farms to work. Each village is a group of stone houses, some of which are very old. Last Sunday, I visited an old Cheateau, the tower of which is said to be one thousand years old. I, also, visited a church that was built about the time Columbus discovered America. There is only one in this town and the people are of the Catholic faith.
Well mother, I must ring off and along with the hope that I’ll see you in the near future I wish you good health and happiness.
With much love,
Pvt. Virgil H. Deaton
Hdqrs. 1st D. D., A. P. O. 727, Am. E. F.
NOTES: Deaton is writing from France to his mother Mrs. J. M. Deaton who lives in Emmet, Arkansas. The town is in both Nevada and Hempstead counties.
TRANSCRIBED BY DEBRA POLSTON
St. Aignon, France
Nov. 2, 1918
My Dear Mamma:
It would be very hard for you to imagine my joy, when today I got one of your letters and also a copy of the Standard. I know of nothing that does a fellow so much good as one of these letter expressing so much love and news from home. It drives away the blues quicker than anything else a man can get.
Well, mamma you may rest assured that at the present i am well and haven’t got into any mischief since I landed over-seas. I find it no more difficult to be a man here than at home. Anyone, if he chooses can do the right thing at any old place. I’m doing my best not to disappoint you and papa in my manner of living and conduct as a man. It is true, I may never win the honor of getting a Croix de Guerve or have a personal fight with ‘Kaiser Bill’ but I do wish to come back to the dear old states a better man than when I left them.
Mamma, I am still working in the statistical office and am getting plenty of work to keep me busy. In fact I’ve but very little time in which to write letters. But, mamma dear, when I think of the happy meeting we will have in the near future of the ones I really love best, I am willing to work with all the vim and energy I posess.
My sleeping quarters are on the second floor of what was before the war a hay barn. In regard to sanitation, these quarters are in the prime of condition. We have many magazines and books to read and nobody would ever suspect that our home here had ever been a barn.
Upon the floor of this barn and old Frenchman has a wine press and is now making wine. In this part of France growing grapes and making of wines is the chief occupation. In my opinion this wine would be much better if thrown into the river. The Frenchman drinks no water but drinks wine at every meal and sometimes between meals.
These French people have funny, very funny customs. Each Sunday is a regular fair day in Aignon. On that day the farmer brings everything he has for sale to town. Most all of the farmers are, of course, women. Among the things they bring are vegetables, eggs, butter, chickens, goats, pork and rabbits. Practically every woman has a couple of milch goats, a cow and a pen full of rabbits. You may rest assured that these rabbits are not kept to amuse the children.
The farmers here do not live on their farms as they do at home, but instead live in villages and go out to their farms to work. Each village is a group of stone houses, some of which are very old. Last Sunday, I visited an old Cheateau, the tower of which is said to be one thousand years old. I, also, visited a church that was built about the time Columbus discovered America. There is only one in this town and the people are of the Catholic faith.
Well mother, I must ring off and along with the hope that I’ll see you in the near future I wish you good health and happiness.
With much love,
Pvt. Virgil H. Deaton
Hdqrs. 1st D. D., A. P. O. 727, Am. E. F.
NOTES: Deaton is writing from France to his mother Mrs. J. M. Deaton who lives in Emmet, Arkansas. The town is in both Nevada and Hempstead counties.
TRANSCRIBED BY DEBRA POLSTON