TRANSCRIBED FROM THE SPECTATOR DECEMBER 31, 1918 P. 2
Somewhere in France, Nov. 24.
Dear Father:
I will write you a few lines this evening to let you know that I am well and doing fine, and am hoping you are the same. I suppose you have heard that the censorship has been lifted for this letter, so I will try to tell you a little story of myself and travels since I have been over here, and am going to start from New York and come on across. I will say before I start that is has been some trip. We left Camp Mills about 11 o’clock a.m. on May 18th. We came across the Hudson around New York’s sky line on the ferry boat “Niagra” where we passed under the large Brooklyn bridge. About 2 p.m. we unloaded off the ferry and marched into a big dock. There we were checked in by number. We loaded onto a White Star liner, the steam ship “Ceramic,” and that night we spent in the harbor was sure keen. Old New York sure loomed up. Also the ferry boats were all lights and it sure was fine. The next day about 1:30 we sailed out of old New York harbor. They would not allow us to be on deck, but as it happened I got next to a port hole and got to see the Statue of Liberty on our right and that was about all I got to see of the river except the aeroplanes and battle ships that escorted us out of the bay. We had a very calm sea all the way except two or three days of stormy weather. Just before we hit the Irish seas a British convoy of submarine chasers met us about 4 o’clock one of the boys was on deck and he came down below and said, “We are in sight of land,” and then everybody made a rush for the top deck, or what we say “on top.” The next day we could see plainly everything such as villages and farms.
At that place a bunch of aeroplanes and zeppelins met us. One of the saussages came down within fifty feet of our ship and took our picture. That night on May 30th Declaration Day, we docked in Liverpool harbor, the largest ship yard in the world Our fire drill was pretty often. The signal for danger was four short whistles and when the old boat whistled for a tug (four whistles) we were all in bed (hammocks) and we made a rush for “on top” with just our shoes on. We thought we were going down, but when we got on top we found out our mistake, for we could see the markers all lighted up and so we had a laugh and went back to bed. We were on board the ship all day the 31st and until the next day. We walked down the gang plank and hiked with our packs and rifles down through the outskirts of Liverpool and into a town by the name of Walton. It was smoky and not at all clean. There were many people wanting a souvenir from America. Also women trying to sell oranges, “nice big oranges, boys, two for a quarter: I take American money,” was her talk, but we just gave her a laugh. They were about the size of a blue plum. We loaded onto what we call a squad train. The cars are split up into five sections and each section would only hold a squad (8 men). There an English colonel gave us a talk and also a note from his majesty, King George. We rode on the train to a rest camp at Romesy, England. There is where the church is that I was telling you about. We were there some four or five days, and from there we went to Southampton, Eng. (on foot). We were supposed to load on a boat that evening, but on account of them sweeping the channel for subs we were delayed, but two days later we sailed down the channel to La Havre, France. We were there only two days. While there we passed in review before the Belgian minister of war. They also took movie pictures of us. From there we went to Angers and to a little village on the outskirts of Angers, about 7 kilos (5 miles). We were there nearly a month. I was in the officer’s mess there, while all the battery, except 24, went to La Maine: for horses. I spent the 4th of July in St. Sylvain. We got our 155 Howitzers, and from there we went to an artillery camp called Coetquidan, the range. We had a lot of training on the guns (the battery), but I was still with the officers’ mess. I was getting tired of the mess and decided I would like a little action, so when we left Coetquidan I quit and returned to the battery. We loaded on train at a rail head at Guer. We rode two and half days to Cornimont, and after a few days we went to a little village in Alsace named Oderen, which was our base. I was assigned to the Signal detail, and the morning after we arrived there we started for our positions. We got up into the Vosges mountains and had to dig in our positions. Myself and Joe Martin (you know his father) were called upon by the sergeant of the detail to show the boys how to timber and dig out the rock, but we worked out our part just the same. We were right up on top of a high mountain. There was a little village below, and when they paid us, we went down to it, and, believe me, that was some hill for a man to climb, especially when he is about half shot and the night dark. We left there just 12 days after we got our positions dug in and returned to Oderen, and on Sept. 2 left for a 23 day march. We were on the reserve in the St. Mihiel drive, and also on another front at Nancy. We passed through Nancy, Toul and many other cities on our march, and at the end of our journey found ourselves in a little woods only a few kilos from the front. One night the guns were taken up and abobt two days later the rest of the camp came up. One morning about 2:30 we began the battle. I was not on the gun squad then, I was right in the midst of all of it. We put over a barrage and at seven o’clock our infantry went over the top and went quite a few miles before finding any Germans.
At Varennes, where Brother now is, we had a good battle. We pulled into Varennes the next evening about six o’clock and there we stopped a counter attack. Old Fritz was pretty busy putting over a little of his ammunition and there is where I was put on the gun squad as No. 4 man. That was called the Argonne sector, and that was sure some battle for eight days. We left Varennes on Oct. 2 and started back for a rest. We hiked four days and came to a village called Hargerville and staid there six or eight days. We then got orders to leave for the front again and pulled out. It took us four more days, and had just got our guns in position when we got orders that we would have to move down the road, as all batteries have to be as much as a kilometer apart, and of course D battery had to move, as usual. Well, we moved to our new place and had to dig in. on Nov. 11th we had just finished our pit and was ready to move in when we got the order to cease firing. However we had fired about 600 rounds of shells from each gun. Now our guns have been turned over and we are in a little village called Sommediene, about 14 kilometers from Verdun, waiting orders and I hope it is to move towards home.
Well, Dad, this all I can think of to write to you. Of course many things have happened, to numerous to write about, but I will tell you about them when I return home. You may look for me most any time after the shipment of troops is started. I suppose this will be all so I will close. Tell mother and all hello for me.
Good bye,
Your son,
Earl
NOTES: The author of this letter was identified only as Earl.
TRANSCRIBED BY MIKE POLSTON
Somewhere in France, Nov. 24.
Dear Father:
I will write you a few lines this evening to let you know that I am well and doing fine, and am hoping you are the same. I suppose you have heard that the censorship has been lifted for this letter, so I will try to tell you a little story of myself and travels since I have been over here, and am going to start from New York and come on across. I will say before I start that is has been some trip. We left Camp Mills about 11 o’clock a.m. on May 18th. We came across the Hudson around New York’s sky line on the ferry boat “Niagra” where we passed under the large Brooklyn bridge. About 2 p.m. we unloaded off the ferry and marched into a big dock. There we were checked in by number. We loaded onto a White Star liner, the steam ship “Ceramic,” and that night we spent in the harbor was sure keen. Old New York sure loomed up. Also the ferry boats were all lights and it sure was fine. The next day about 1:30 we sailed out of old New York harbor. They would not allow us to be on deck, but as it happened I got next to a port hole and got to see the Statue of Liberty on our right and that was about all I got to see of the river except the aeroplanes and battle ships that escorted us out of the bay. We had a very calm sea all the way except two or three days of stormy weather. Just before we hit the Irish seas a British convoy of submarine chasers met us about 4 o’clock one of the boys was on deck and he came down below and said, “We are in sight of land,” and then everybody made a rush for the top deck, or what we say “on top.” The next day we could see plainly everything such as villages and farms.
At that place a bunch of aeroplanes and zeppelins met us. One of the saussages came down within fifty feet of our ship and took our picture. That night on May 30th Declaration Day, we docked in Liverpool harbor, the largest ship yard in the world Our fire drill was pretty often. The signal for danger was four short whistles and when the old boat whistled for a tug (four whistles) we were all in bed (hammocks) and we made a rush for “on top” with just our shoes on. We thought we were going down, but when we got on top we found out our mistake, for we could see the markers all lighted up and so we had a laugh and went back to bed. We were on board the ship all day the 31st and until the next day. We walked down the gang plank and hiked with our packs and rifles down through the outskirts of Liverpool and into a town by the name of Walton. It was smoky and not at all clean. There were many people wanting a souvenir from America. Also women trying to sell oranges, “nice big oranges, boys, two for a quarter: I take American money,” was her talk, but we just gave her a laugh. They were about the size of a blue plum. We loaded onto what we call a squad train. The cars are split up into five sections and each section would only hold a squad (8 men). There an English colonel gave us a talk and also a note from his majesty, King George. We rode on the train to a rest camp at Romesy, England. There is where the church is that I was telling you about. We were there some four or five days, and from there we went to Southampton, Eng. (on foot). We were supposed to load on a boat that evening, but on account of them sweeping the channel for subs we were delayed, but two days later we sailed down the channel to La Havre, France. We were there only two days. While there we passed in review before the Belgian minister of war. They also took movie pictures of us. From there we went to Angers and to a little village on the outskirts of Angers, about 7 kilos (5 miles). We were there nearly a month. I was in the officer’s mess there, while all the battery, except 24, went to La Maine: for horses. I spent the 4th of July in St. Sylvain. We got our 155 Howitzers, and from there we went to an artillery camp called Coetquidan, the range. We had a lot of training on the guns (the battery), but I was still with the officers’ mess. I was getting tired of the mess and decided I would like a little action, so when we left Coetquidan I quit and returned to the battery. We loaded on train at a rail head at Guer. We rode two and half days to Cornimont, and after a few days we went to a little village in Alsace named Oderen, which was our base. I was assigned to the Signal detail, and the morning after we arrived there we started for our positions. We got up into the Vosges mountains and had to dig in our positions. Myself and Joe Martin (you know his father) were called upon by the sergeant of the detail to show the boys how to timber and dig out the rock, but we worked out our part just the same. We were right up on top of a high mountain. There was a little village below, and when they paid us, we went down to it, and, believe me, that was some hill for a man to climb, especially when he is about half shot and the night dark. We left there just 12 days after we got our positions dug in and returned to Oderen, and on Sept. 2 left for a 23 day march. We were on the reserve in the St. Mihiel drive, and also on another front at Nancy. We passed through Nancy, Toul and many other cities on our march, and at the end of our journey found ourselves in a little woods only a few kilos from the front. One night the guns were taken up and abobt two days later the rest of the camp came up. One morning about 2:30 we began the battle. I was not on the gun squad then, I was right in the midst of all of it. We put over a barrage and at seven o’clock our infantry went over the top and went quite a few miles before finding any Germans.
At Varennes, where Brother now is, we had a good battle. We pulled into Varennes the next evening about six o’clock and there we stopped a counter attack. Old Fritz was pretty busy putting over a little of his ammunition and there is where I was put on the gun squad as No. 4 man. That was called the Argonne sector, and that was sure some battle for eight days. We left Varennes on Oct. 2 and started back for a rest. We hiked four days and came to a village called Hargerville and staid there six or eight days. We then got orders to leave for the front again and pulled out. It took us four more days, and had just got our guns in position when we got orders that we would have to move down the road, as all batteries have to be as much as a kilometer apart, and of course D battery had to move, as usual. Well, we moved to our new place and had to dig in. on Nov. 11th we had just finished our pit and was ready to move in when we got the order to cease firing. However we had fired about 600 rounds of shells from each gun. Now our guns have been turned over and we are in a little village called Sommediene, about 14 kilometers from Verdun, waiting orders and I hope it is to move towards home.
Well, Dad, this all I can think of to write to you. Of course many things have happened, to numerous to write about, but I will tell you about them when I return home. You may look for me most any time after the shipment of troops is started. I suppose this will be all so I will close. Tell mother and all hello for me.
Good bye,
Your son,
Earl
NOTES: The author of this letter was identified only as Earl.
TRANSCRIBED BY MIKE POLSTON