TRANSCRIBED FROM THE HOT SPRINGS NEW ERA FEBRUARY 19, 1919 P. 3
Dear Uncle:
It has been some time since I have written to you, in fact, I haven’t had a real opportunity to write since I landed in this country. To begin with we moved about from camp to camp and put in about 14 hours a day. I hesitated in writing to you because I didn’t think I had anything of interest to tell you. But I have at last. The main idea is, “we are coming home P.D.Q.”
Since we landed I have had the chance of seeing a few of the large towns and places of historical interest. Of course they did not appeal to me as much as they would if I had been on a pleasure trip. The people over here, at least the majority, of them I have seen, are not by any means what you people back in the states think they are. I think I had better go more into details about a French home aand call your attention to the ordinary class of people
The houses are as a rule at least 100 years old and built of stone or rock. The first thing that attracts your attention is about four little dirty faced kids playing with a goat on the front door step. On entering the house the main room is a bedroom, dining room, mill shop and anything else you want. The other the sweet essence of manure is prevalent.
I have had quite a bit of experience traveling about the country on Sundays, seeing the country on Shank’s mare. We always go in a bunch and have a big time drinking the French liquor. We get all the Champagne we want and in fact any drink we want, but it is next to impossible to get anything good to eat.
Our division went into action sometime in October, but my brigade was at an artillery school and we never got up there. From all reports our “dough boys” Infantry made a name for themselves. The units engaged were made up of West Texas men and Oklahoma Indians and they tell us that those Indians went wild. Believe me we were a sore bunch when we found out that they had gone over the top and we were not behind them for support.
About the time we were thinking of going to the front the armistice was signed and the next big idea was seeing the old lady in New York harbor. It looked doubtful at first on account of the army of occupation, but a week ago our division was ordered home. And I expect we will land in the later part of January.
Well uncle, ____ though I didn’t get on the front I am proud to know that I was a volunteer and was waiting to be called for over a year before they even sent us over here and was not like some of the bunch that did not have the guts to sign their name on Sam’s little dotted line and waited for the draft to catch them.
Remember me to auntie and little Berry and I hope the day is not far off until I am able to see you.
Your nephew,
BERRY
Corporal Berry B. Hickman, Bat. “A” 133rd F.A., American E.F.
NOTES: Berry Bowman Hickman was born on February 28, 1898 in Hot Springs, Arkansas and died in 1942. He is buried in the Grove Hill Memorial Park in Dallas, Texas. Hickman wrote this letter from France to his uncle, Berry Hickman.
TRANSCRIBED BY MIKE POLSTON
Dear Uncle:
It has been some time since I have written to you, in fact, I haven’t had a real opportunity to write since I landed in this country. To begin with we moved about from camp to camp and put in about 14 hours a day. I hesitated in writing to you because I didn’t think I had anything of interest to tell you. But I have at last. The main idea is, “we are coming home P.D.Q.”
Since we landed I have had the chance of seeing a few of the large towns and places of historical interest. Of course they did not appeal to me as much as they would if I had been on a pleasure trip. The people over here, at least the majority, of them I have seen, are not by any means what you people back in the states think they are. I think I had better go more into details about a French home aand call your attention to the ordinary class of people
The houses are as a rule at least 100 years old and built of stone or rock. The first thing that attracts your attention is about four little dirty faced kids playing with a goat on the front door step. On entering the house the main room is a bedroom, dining room, mill shop and anything else you want. The other the sweet essence of manure is prevalent.
I have had quite a bit of experience traveling about the country on Sundays, seeing the country on Shank’s mare. We always go in a bunch and have a big time drinking the French liquor. We get all the Champagne we want and in fact any drink we want, but it is next to impossible to get anything good to eat.
Our division went into action sometime in October, but my brigade was at an artillery school and we never got up there. From all reports our “dough boys” Infantry made a name for themselves. The units engaged were made up of West Texas men and Oklahoma Indians and they tell us that those Indians went wild. Believe me we were a sore bunch when we found out that they had gone over the top and we were not behind them for support.
About the time we were thinking of going to the front the armistice was signed and the next big idea was seeing the old lady in New York harbor. It looked doubtful at first on account of the army of occupation, but a week ago our division was ordered home. And I expect we will land in the later part of January.
Well uncle, ____ though I didn’t get on the front I am proud to know that I was a volunteer and was waiting to be called for over a year before they even sent us over here and was not like some of the bunch that did not have the guts to sign their name on Sam’s little dotted line and waited for the draft to catch them.
Remember me to auntie and little Berry and I hope the day is not far off until I am able to see you.
Your nephew,
BERRY
Corporal Berry B. Hickman, Bat. “A” 133rd F.A., American E.F.
NOTES: Berry Bowman Hickman was born on February 28, 1898 in Hot Springs, Arkansas and died in 1942. He is buried in the Grove Hill Memorial Park in Dallas, Texas. Hickman wrote this letter from France to his uncle, Berry Hickman.
TRANSCRIBED BY MIKE POLSTON