TRANSCRIBED FROM THE COURIER-INDEX SEPTEMBER 27, 1918 P. 1
Dear Doctor:
In sunny France at last, and, believe me, this is some country.
Where we first landed we were in the most desolate country you ever saw. The women doing all the work with all the men at the front, and they must have taken all the stock, too. They women would push as much as you would put on two of your mules, and they would move right along with it, too. And always seemed cheerful. Never saw a pair of leather shoes while we were there. All wood and nails about as big as spikes in the soles to keep the rocks from wearing them out. All the roads are gravel or rock, and they certainly are fine, but are badly in need of repair. Don’t guess they have had any work done on them since the war started.
We are in a beautiful part of France now. The finest stock you ever saw and acres and acres of grapes. The women are not what they are said to be, and have seen very few good looking ones. Take the good old American girl for mine. Guess they must have all the good looking ones in the larger towns.
The houses and fences are all stone and the chateau we are billeted in dates back to Napoleon’s time – and don’t think it has had a thing done to it since.
You ought to have your wood over here. Bought some today and only had to pay $18 per cord for it, and not a stick in it bigger than your wrist. These people burn bushes, briars and vines. Don’t think they make but one fire a day. The weather here is about like it is in October over there. Makes you hurry all the time.
Everything moves over here in big two wheel carts and on bicycles. Haven’t seen a four wheel wagon, except our army wagons, over here. I have had a dickens of a time climbing these hills on a bicycle going to town. Pull mine up hill and give her the devil going down.
All the cars have been taken over by the government.
I have no idea how long we will be here. Hope we move up toward the front soon. Wish you could see the engines and cars. They put all the way from 35 to 60 in a train. The cars are about as big as a farm wagon and have the old fashioned backs on them, but they get over the road.
Write me when you have time. Best wishes and good luck to everybody, and especially yourself and Mrs. White.
NOTES: Letter written by Bogan Gist to Dr. H. L. White of Rondo, Arkansas
TRANSCRIBED BY AMY MINGER
Dear Doctor:
In sunny France at last, and, believe me, this is some country.
Where we first landed we were in the most desolate country you ever saw. The women doing all the work with all the men at the front, and they must have taken all the stock, too. They women would push as much as you would put on two of your mules, and they would move right along with it, too. And always seemed cheerful. Never saw a pair of leather shoes while we were there. All wood and nails about as big as spikes in the soles to keep the rocks from wearing them out. All the roads are gravel or rock, and they certainly are fine, but are badly in need of repair. Don’t guess they have had any work done on them since the war started.
We are in a beautiful part of France now. The finest stock you ever saw and acres and acres of grapes. The women are not what they are said to be, and have seen very few good looking ones. Take the good old American girl for mine. Guess they must have all the good looking ones in the larger towns.
The houses and fences are all stone and the chateau we are billeted in dates back to Napoleon’s time – and don’t think it has had a thing done to it since.
You ought to have your wood over here. Bought some today and only had to pay $18 per cord for it, and not a stick in it bigger than your wrist. These people burn bushes, briars and vines. Don’t think they make but one fire a day. The weather here is about like it is in October over there. Makes you hurry all the time.
Everything moves over here in big two wheel carts and on bicycles. Haven’t seen a four wheel wagon, except our army wagons, over here. I have had a dickens of a time climbing these hills on a bicycle going to town. Pull mine up hill and give her the devil going down.
All the cars have been taken over by the government.
I have no idea how long we will be here. Hope we move up toward the front soon. Wish you could see the engines and cars. They put all the way from 35 to 60 in a train. The cars are about as big as a farm wagon and have the old fashioned backs on them, but they get over the road.
Write me when you have time. Best wishes and good luck to everybody, and especially yourself and Mrs. White.
NOTES: Letter written by Bogan Gist to Dr. H. L. White of Rondo, Arkansas
TRANSCRIBED BY AMY MINGER