TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DAILY ARKANSAS GAZETTE SEPTEMBER 22, 1918 P. 8
My Dear Parents:
I suppose you have received the previous three letters I sent from France. I have been up in the lines for the past six weeks and as we have been having open warfare have been unable to write any more.
Was at the front when the marines made their drive the early part of June for four weeks, which was baptismal fire. Pulled through there all o.k. Deventer, one of the replacement bunch, was slightly wounded; that was the only causality out of our platoon. I suppose by this time you know all about the allied drive. We were transferred from one front to another and our division and another were the American shock troops for the drive. It started, I believe, on July 18. We captured two towns and several kilometers of woods. On the morning of the --, my regiment formed a line of waves (combat grouped), in an open field. At about – we started to advance behind some tanks, which led us into battle.
I have seen many wonderful sights, but this was unbelievable. While the troops were maneuvering for position before taking up the attack, the enemy opened up a shell fire. Mind you there was absolutely no cover. We were in fine spirits in spite of the fact that we had had privations, nothing to eat in three days, as we traveled so fast the rations could not keep up with us, besides that we had had no sleep to amount to anything, nevertheless we all felt fit as a fiddle. After we were all formed, and the German fire commenced to get intense, but we were all smoking and talking as much as possible and busy keeping our interval, and personally I forgot the danger.
I saw Bodice Cone (one of the boys from the barracks you were in) blown 50 feet in the air, 10 feet in front of me. A little further on I saw one of our platoon sergeants knocked over and wounded by shrapnel. Right at my side little “Dinty” Moore, who bunked across from me at Quantico, was blown to pieces, and a little later on I saw Metzzer dead on the field, and I stepped over him. I got a lump in my throat, but I had to go on. You remember Metzger, he was one of five of us who were together in Quantico. All through this our line never broke or wavered. A little further on I saw Jack Hoover pitch forward and get up, and try again only to go down once more; he was wounded. Do you remember the large sergeant at Quantico who touched his hat to you at the train when we were pulling out? He was our platoon sergeant. We ran into a machine gun cross fire and he was hit nine time and went down with a cheer and a smile. We advanced three and a half kilometers and found that we had driven a wedge in the lines and was getting s a cross fire from both sides and also the center. I had up to this time, seen six of my intimate friends either killed or wounded. My platoon had started with over 30 men and at this point we had about 12 left, but we had driven the boches back, and advanced our position three and one-half kilometers. Some of the other platoons had fared even worse than we; some have only five or six left. We took up our position there, and held it until about 2 o’clock the next morning, when the French relieved us.
After we had taken up our position I looked over a parapet and Frenchy, my chum, stood up to call to me and a machine bullet caught him right across the back, but luckily it isn’t serious; he will be over it in about six weeks. Out of all us fellows who were close together in Quantico there are only Corbly and myself left, and he was scratched on the arm by machine gun. Lavey was wounded in the leg. But they haven’t got a shell or bullet named “Hannah” I walked through a miracle; I was hit half a dozen times with spent fragments and all I got is a couple of black and blue spots; a machine gun bullet tore my pants and did no more than burn a little.
We are back in support now, and hope to go in for a rest soon. Haven’t received any mail from home yet, but hope to soon. Am well and strong. Think Americans can end this war.
Love and kisses to both.
Dawson
P. S.—Am feeling very much elated over our recent victories. Cannot mail this now, as our post office has not been established, but hope it will be soon. Hope everybody is well and happy.
Your Boy.
NOTES: Edward Dawson Hannah was writing to his parents of Little Rock, Arkansas. He was born on June 18 in New York, NY and died on February 25, 1969. He is buried in the Long Island National Cemetery in East Farmingdale, New York. His military headstone identifies him as an Arizona, Pvt Marine Corps serving in World War I.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
My Dear Parents:
I suppose you have received the previous three letters I sent from France. I have been up in the lines for the past six weeks and as we have been having open warfare have been unable to write any more.
Was at the front when the marines made their drive the early part of June for four weeks, which was baptismal fire. Pulled through there all o.k. Deventer, one of the replacement bunch, was slightly wounded; that was the only causality out of our platoon. I suppose by this time you know all about the allied drive. We were transferred from one front to another and our division and another were the American shock troops for the drive. It started, I believe, on July 18. We captured two towns and several kilometers of woods. On the morning of the --, my regiment formed a line of waves (combat grouped), in an open field. At about – we started to advance behind some tanks, which led us into battle.
I have seen many wonderful sights, but this was unbelievable. While the troops were maneuvering for position before taking up the attack, the enemy opened up a shell fire. Mind you there was absolutely no cover. We were in fine spirits in spite of the fact that we had had privations, nothing to eat in three days, as we traveled so fast the rations could not keep up with us, besides that we had had no sleep to amount to anything, nevertheless we all felt fit as a fiddle. After we were all formed, and the German fire commenced to get intense, but we were all smoking and talking as much as possible and busy keeping our interval, and personally I forgot the danger.
I saw Bodice Cone (one of the boys from the barracks you were in) blown 50 feet in the air, 10 feet in front of me. A little further on I saw one of our platoon sergeants knocked over and wounded by shrapnel. Right at my side little “Dinty” Moore, who bunked across from me at Quantico, was blown to pieces, and a little later on I saw Metzzer dead on the field, and I stepped over him. I got a lump in my throat, but I had to go on. You remember Metzger, he was one of five of us who were together in Quantico. All through this our line never broke or wavered. A little further on I saw Jack Hoover pitch forward and get up, and try again only to go down once more; he was wounded. Do you remember the large sergeant at Quantico who touched his hat to you at the train when we were pulling out? He was our platoon sergeant. We ran into a machine gun cross fire and he was hit nine time and went down with a cheer and a smile. We advanced three and a half kilometers and found that we had driven a wedge in the lines and was getting s a cross fire from both sides and also the center. I had up to this time, seen six of my intimate friends either killed or wounded. My platoon had started with over 30 men and at this point we had about 12 left, but we had driven the boches back, and advanced our position three and one-half kilometers. Some of the other platoons had fared even worse than we; some have only five or six left. We took up our position there, and held it until about 2 o’clock the next morning, when the French relieved us.
After we had taken up our position I looked over a parapet and Frenchy, my chum, stood up to call to me and a machine bullet caught him right across the back, but luckily it isn’t serious; he will be over it in about six weeks. Out of all us fellows who were close together in Quantico there are only Corbly and myself left, and he was scratched on the arm by machine gun. Lavey was wounded in the leg. But they haven’t got a shell or bullet named “Hannah” I walked through a miracle; I was hit half a dozen times with spent fragments and all I got is a couple of black and blue spots; a machine gun bullet tore my pants and did no more than burn a little.
We are back in support now, and hope to go in for a rest soon. Haven’t received any mail from home yet, but hope to soon. Am well and strong. Think Americans can end this war.
Love and kisses to both.
Dawson
P. S.—Am feeling very much elated over our recent victories. Cannot mail this now, as our post office has not been established, but hope it will be soon. Hope everybody is well and happy.
Your Boy.
NOTES: Edward Dawson Hannah was writing to his parents of Little Rock, Arkansas. He was born on June 18 in New York, NY and died on February 25, 1969. He is buried in the Long Island National Cemetery in East Farmingdale, New York. His military headstone identifies him as an Arizona, Pvt Marine Corps serving in World War I.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT