TRANSCRIBED FROM THE HOTS SPRINGS NEW ERA FEBRUARY 12, 1919 P. 8
How are you at this time? I am well and feeling fine. I just borrowed this paper from the German woman in whose house I sleep. Five of us boys sleep here and she is very good to us. They cook supper for us every night. We usually have potatoes, blue cabbage and gravy. The Germans eat little bread. They eat potatoes instead. A loaf of their bread about the size of our smallest loaves weighs three to four pounds and is a very dark brown color but tastes very good. We got our pay last Friday in Dutch money. Our biggest pieces are called a mark, which is about twenty-three cents. I sent a hundred dollars to you today through the Y.W.C.A. Let me know if you receive it. But I think by the time you receive this letter we will be on our way home. There has been an order sent out that nobody is allowed to hunt. So my friend and I were appointed game wardens. We have authority to arrest anybody we see hunting. We patrol the mountains from here to Anhasen, Heinback, Isenbourg, Rommersdorf, Heimbach and back to here. It is about thirty kilometer walk. We do not stand any formations and take lunch with us. Saw five deer yesterday, and today two just jumped up from a creek just fifty feet away and ran past us.
Gladbach is just two kilometers from the Rhine river. We are fifteen kilometers from Coblenz. I think I will get a pass to go there soon. How are you feeling now, Papa? I have an iron cross for you which I got off a dead German. It had been given him for bravery. Will try to bring other souvenirs with me. It is snowing here today. I am sending you a true to life poem and those things have happened to me many times. It is growing late so I will close for this time. Tell Loie and Eunice to write.
Your loving son,
Rex Hildreth
“Now That It’s All Over”
Did you ever hike millions of miles.
And carry a ton on your back.
And blister your heels and your shoulders, too.
Where the straps run down from your pack.
In the rain or snow, or the mud, perhaps.
Is the smothering heat or the cold?
If you have then why you’re a buddy of ours.
And we welcome you into our fold.
Did you ever eat with you plate in your lap.
With your cup on the ground at your side.
While kooties and bugs of species untold.
Danced fox-trots over your hide?
Did you ever sleep in a tent so small
That your head and your feet played tag?
Then shake, old man, you’re a pal of ours.
For you’ve followed the same old flag.
Did you ever stand in a front line trench.
With Fritzie a few feet away.
With Jerries and Minnies a-whistling around.
And gas coming over all day?
With No Man’s Land a sea of steel
And a tempest of bursting shell
Then, come in, old man, and toast your shins.
For we’re all just back from hell.
NOTES: Hildreth had returned to the US by May of 1919 and was mustered out at Camp Pike in North Little Rock, Arkansas.
TRANSCRIBED BY MIKE POLSTON
How are you at this time? I am well and feeling fine. I just borrowed this paper from the German woman in whose house I sleep. Five of us boys sleep here and she is very good to us. They cook supper for us every night. We usually have potatoes, blue cabbage and gravy. The Germans eat little bread. They eat potatoes instead. A loaf of their bread about the size of our smallest loaves weighs three to four pounds and is a very dark brown color but tastes very good. We got our pay last Friday in Dutch money. Our biggest pieces are called a mark, which is about twenty-three cents. I sent a hundred dollars to you today through the Y.W.C.A. Let me know if you receive it. But I think by the time you receive this letter we will be on our way home. There has been an order sent out that nobody is allowed to hunt. So my friend and I were appointed game wardens. We have authority to arrest anybody we see hunting. We patrol the mountains from here to Anhasen, Heinback, Isenbourg, Rommersdorf, Heimbach and back to here. It is about thirty kilometer walk. We do not stand any formations and take lunch with us. Saw five deer yesterday, and today two just jumped up from a creek just fifty feet away and ran past us.
Gladbach is just two kilometers from the Rhine river. We are fifteen kilometers from Coblenz. I think I will get a pass to go there soon. How are you feeling now, Papa? I have an iron cross for you which I got off a dead German. It had been given him for bravery. Will try to bring other souvenirs with me. It is snowing here today. I am sending you a true to life poem and those things have happened to me many times. It is growing late so I will close for this time. Tell Loie and Eunice to write.
Your loving son,
Rex Hildreth
“Now That It’s All Over”
Did you ever hike millions of miles.
And carry a ton on your back.
And blister your heels and your shoulders, too.
Where the straps run down from your pack.
In the rain or snow, or the mud, perhaps.
Is the smothering heat or the cold?
If you have then why you’re a buddy of ours.
And we welcome you into our fold.
Did you ever eat with you plate in your lap.
With your cup on the ground at your side.
While kooties and bugs of species untold.
Danced fox-trots over your hide?
Did you ever sleep in a tent so small
That your head and your feet played tag?
Then shake, old man, you’re a pal of ours.
For you’ve followed the same old flag.
Did you ever stand in a front line trench.
With Fritzie a few feet away.
With Jerries and Minnies a-whistling around.
And gas coming over all day?
With No Man’s Land a sea of steel
And a tempest of bursting shell
Then, come in, old man, and toast your shins.
For we’re all just back from hell.
NOTES: Hildreth had returned to the US by May of 1919 and was mustered out at Camp Pike in North Little Rock, Arkansas.
TRANSCRIBED BY MIKE POLSTON