TRANSCRIBED FROM THE BENTON COURIER NOVEMBER 14, 1918 P. 1
Dear Father, Mother and Family:
All is well with us. We have moved four or five times since arriving here. First, we spent a few days living in our tents, next we were billeted in a small village where we could get plenty of the essence of grapes and stronger, but I still held to my old rule ad did not take too much, but there was enough every night to make the singing of the songs we learned in the states very popular. But we are now living like the cave men. Also we can walk out and listen to the talk of peace which will be more effective than the scraps of paper transmitted from one government to the other.
As I write now I can hear the roar of the canons. It has gotten so common that silence causes unrest, the noise lulls me to sleep at night.
I had often heard of life in a dugout, and had figured it very unpleasant, but to the contrary, it is very homelike. We have a fireplace, and our bunks are placed like those in a Pullman, although we have no cushions and springs. Our berths are made of wire, and with hay, and with our three blankets we can sleep like a log.
And eats, they are plentiful, although we have no pies for supper, nor do we expect any for dinner or breakfast, but we have plenty of beef hash, soup, rice beans, coffee with sugar and cream. All good old rib-sticking food, with plenty of tobacco and cigarettes.
All in all, we are faring fine.
One night we had just a bit of excitement in our camp when we heard the purr of a foreign plane. Our lights were burning, but we were not obedient when told to put them out. Our anti-aircraft guns soon sent them scurrying back and nothing has been heard of them since. They knew we were fresh and thought to give us a scare. Maybe they did, but it made us only more determined than before.
I forgot to tell a bit more about our home and fireside. There are fifteen of us and we gather around our fireside for friendly discussions. One night we talked of how we were going to spend Xmas, and how long it would take the boat to cross the ocean, and on the following morning we read President Wilson's statement in regard to making peace with the present rulers of Germany. That night we figured how long it would take to reach Berlin at so many kilometers each day, for we have about decided to take Xmas dinner there instead of at home, and come home to spend the glorious Fourth.
Martin and I are in better spirits now than when we left the states to come to France to help win the war. Now we are here and don't forget it, we are going to do our part. While it may be a bit dangerous here, there would be no excitement if there were no danger, and furthermore, they would not have brought us over. For don't lose any sleep over me, for I am really enjoying it. I received the letter written by Grace on August 29. Expecting mail tomorrow.
Sgt. GORDON HUCHINGSON,
Co. "C" 114 Engrs., A.E.F., A.P.O. 914 France
NOTES: Huchingson was born in Saline County, Arkansas on March 31, 1893 and died in 1980. He is buried in the Lee Cemetery in Benton, Arkansas. He was writing to his parents Robert Lee and Sarah C. Huchingson. He enlisted in the military on September 18, 1917 and was discharged on May 21, 1919. He departed for France from Hoboken, NJ on August 22, 1918 onboard the Wilhelmina. He was serving as a Corp. in Co. C., 114th Engineers.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
Dear Father, Mother and Family:
All is well with us. We have moved four or five times since arriving here. First, we spent a few days living in our tents, next we were billeted in a small village where we could get plenty of the essence of grapes and stronger, but I still held to my old rule ad did not take too much, but there was enough every night to make the singing of the songs we learned in the states very popular. But we are now living like the cave men. Also we can walk out and listen to the talk of peace which will be more effective than the scraps of paper transmitted from one government to the other.
As I write now I can hear the roar of the canons. It has gotten so common that silence causes unrest, the noise lulls me to sleep at night.
I had often heard of life in a dugout, and had figured it very unpleasant, but to the contrary, it is very homelike. We have a fireplace, and our bunks are placed like those in a Pullman, although we have no cushions and springs. Our berths are made of wire, and with hay, and with our three blankets we can sleep like a log.
And eats, they are plentiful, although we have no pies for supper, nor do we expect any for dinner or breakfast, but we have plenty of beef hash, soup, rice beans, coffee with sugar and cream. All good old rib-sticking food, with plenty of tobacco and cigarettes.
All in all, we are faring fine.
One night we had just a bit of excitement in our camp when we heard the purr of a foreign plane. Our lights were burning, but we were not obedient when told to put them out. Our anti-aircraft guns soon sent them scurrying back and nothing has been heard of them since. They knew we were fresh and thought to give us a scare. Maybe they did, but it made us only more determined than before.
I forgot to tell a bit more about our home and fireside. There are fifteen of us and we gather around our fireside for friendly discussions. One night we talked of how we were going to spend Xmas, and how long it would take the boat to cross the ocean, and on the following morning we read President Wilson's statement in regard to making peace with the present rulers of Germany. That night we figured how long it would take to reach Berlin at so many kilometers each day, for we have about decided to take Xmas dinner there instead of at home, and come home to spend the glorious Fourth.
Martin and I are in better spirits now than when we left the states to come to France to help win the war. Now we are here and don't forget it, we are going to do our part. While it may be a bit dangerous here, there would be no excitement if there were no danger, and furthermore, they would not have brought us over. For don't lose any sleep over me, for I am really enjoying it. I received the letter written by Grace on August 29. Expecting mail tomorrow.
Sgt. GORDON HUCHINGSON,
Co. "C" 114 Engrs., A.E.F., A.P.O. 914 France
NOTES: Huchingson was born in Saline County, Arkansas on March 31, 1893 and died in 1980. He is buried in the Lee Cemetery in Benton, Arkansas. He was writing to his parents Robert Lee and Sarah C. Huchingson. He enlisted in the military on September 18, 1917 and was discharged on May 21, 1919. He departed for France from Hoboken, NJ on August 22, 1918 onboard the Wilhelmina. He was serving as a Corp. in Co. C., 114th Engineers.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD