TRANSCRIBED FROM THE LOG CABIN DEMOCRAT JANUARY 2, 1919 P. 5
Camp Coetuidan, France, November 24, 1918, 142nd F.A., Battery.
The Log Cabin Democrat:
As we received several copies of the Daily Log Cabin Democrat this morning and they were appreciated so much by the Conway boys, we decided to show our appreciation by writing a few lines to the 'Cabin.' Very few papers we have received since we have been in sunny France, but the ones we have received have been read from the first page to the last, and then end on the ads.
We will try to describe our trip from Camp Mills to our present camp. Some of the incidents will be omitted on account of not being able to describe them properly. On August 27 we received orders to pack up all our belongings, "hobnail shoes, hardtack and all," in a neat pack (about 63 pounds) to get ready to board a transport. We received our bunk cards, passed on board the transport and were assigned to our bunks on "E" deck. We were in the harbor some two or three days before the ship was ready to start, as it takes quite awhile to load some 1,500 men on board and also to store provisions for the trip.
After everything had been made ready on the floating palace, because the boat was not far from that in size and fixtures, we steamed out the harbor amid cheers, whistles blowing, bands playing, past the statue of liberty and over the briney blue. That day will be long remembered by us because we were leaving home, friends and the greatest country on earth to fight for the cause of humanity. Of course, we were all happy, but down in our hearts we had just a feeling of dread, but after second thought it soon passed away, because we realized that we had a man's job before us. The 142nd Field Artillery men were selected to do guard duty on the ship for the trip, and we had quite a bit of experience in that line.
The guard duty, however, was the est thing on the boat, because we were out on the deck all of the time (only at nights) while the rest were down on the lower decks, and it was bad down there to a sea-sick man. At nights the lights were out and the decks cleared. The portholes were also closed because we were in the "sub" zone. On September 3, the sea got rougher than common, the boat began to rock and pitch so that the "fishes were fed" by more than one of the outfit hanging his head over the rail.
The mess hall was an immense room where we were fed, and the eats were O, K. We had plenty to eat an of a fine variety. None could kick on what they fed us. We were lucky in not coming into contact with any “subs,” but the men, all wanted to see a scrap. Whenever a gun would be fired, the men would come out, thinking they would get to see a fight between the chasers and a “sub.” There were only three transports in our convoy, the Great Northern, the Northern Pacific and the Leviathan, formerly the Vaterland, the one we were on. We were all glad to see Lee Chambers, a former Conway boy. He was firing on the Leviathan, and had made seven trips over at that time.
On the morning of the seventh day out we sighted the coast of Ireland, and the same day we landed in France. But we stayed on board that night and unloaded the next day until nearly dark and hiked three miles under heavy marching order to a rest camp. It is a rest camp all right--you will remember it the rest of your life. It rains 360 days in a year at that camp. We spent a week or ten days in a "pup" tent and it rained every day. We then caught or boarded one of France's Fullman cars, good for eight horses or 40 men. We rode all night and half of the next day in that fashion, unloaded, had breakfast on "bully beef" and "canned willie." We hiked nine kilometers to a French town and were quartered in an old Frenchman's barn. The French people are very polite and seem to think that nothing is too good for an American soldier. They will take you into their houses and insist on your drinking their wine. Very seldom to you see the French drinking water, They drink wine and cider.
On October 1 we started our final training for the big fight, with the French 75mm guns, and the Boches didn't have much love for them. They throw a projectile something like 150 pounds, and have a range of 11 miles. The 142nd F.A, made the best record of any outfit in the camp. The gunners and crowd were almost perfect with the French gun. Our battery was selected to fire for the student officers over here.
We had finished our training and were ready to get ito the fun when the news "finis" was received with gladness by every "sammy," but we hadn't planned on its ending so soon. We only regret that we did not get into action to help deal the finishing blow that made so many hearts glad, both over here in blood-covered countries and to the ones dear to us in the states.
We are expecting to eat Christmas dinner in the states, as it is rumored that we are among 3,000 picked troops of the A. E. F. that will parade in New York City on Christmas day. The 142nd F. A. is the old Arkansas National Guards. The men are all in perfect health, and are all in a big hurry to get back to the states and to their loved ones.
With best regards and love to all,
Private Allen Y. Reid.
Private Sam W Joslin.
Wagoner Robert J. Dodson.
Wagoner Ralph E, Benefield.
Gunnery Cpl. J. Witt Gould.
NOTES: Samuel Wesley Joslin was born on December 16, 1895 and died on September 12, 1957. He is buried in the Magnolia City Cemetery in Magnolia, Arkansas. His military headstone identifies him as an Arkansas Private serving in Battery E 142nd FA during World War I. He enlisted on August 17, 1917 and was discharged on June 25, 1919.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
Camp Coetuidan, France, November 24, 1918, 142nd F.A., Battery.
The Log Cabin Democrat:
As we received several copies of the Daily Log Cabin Democrat this morning and they were appreciated so much by the Conway boys, we decided to show our appreciation by writing a few lines to the 'Cabin.' Very few papers we have received since we have been in sunny France, but the ones we have received have been read from the first page to the last, and then end on the ads.
We will try to describe our trip from Camp Mills to our present camp. Some of the incidents will be omitted on account of not being able to describe them properly. On August 27 we received orders to pack up all our belongings, "hobnail shoes, hardtack and all," in a neat pack (about 63 pounds) to get ready to board a transport. We received our bunk cards, passed on board the transport and were assigned to our bunks on "E" deck. We were in the harbor some two or three days before the ship was ready to start, as it takes quite awhile to load some 1,500 men on board and also to store provisions for the trip.
After everything had been made ready on the floating palace, because the boat was not far from that in size and fixtures, we steamed out the harbor amid cheers, whistles blowing, bands playing, past the statue of liberty and over the briney blue. That day will be long remembered by us because we were leaving home, friends and the greatest country on earth to fight for the cause of humanity. Of course, we were all happy, but down in our hearts we had just a feeling of dread, but after second thought it soon passed away, because we realized that we had a man's job before us. The 142nd Field Artillery men were selected to do guard duty on the ship for the trip, and we had quite a bit of experience in that line.
The guard duty, however, was the est thing on the boat, because we were out on the deck all of the time (only at nights) while the rest were down on the lower decks, and it was bad down there to a sea-sick man. At nights the lights were out and the decks cleared. The portholes were also closed because we were in the "sub" zone. On September 3, the sea got rougher than common, the boat began to rock and pitch so that the "fishes were fed" by more than one of the outfit hanging his head over the rail.
The mess hall was an immense room where we were fed, and the eats were O, K. We had plenty to eat an of a fine variety. None could kick on what they fed us. We were lucky in not coming into contact with any “subs,” but the men, all wanted to see a scrap. Whenever a gun would be fired, the men would come out, thinking they would get to see a fight between the chasers and a “sub.” There were only three transports in our convoy, the Great Northern, the Northern Pacific and the Leviathan, formerly the Vaterland, the one we were on. We were all glad to see Lee Chambers, a former Conway boy. He was firing on the Leviathan, and had made seven trips over at that time.
On the morning of the seventh day out we sighted the coast of Ireland, and the same day we landed in France. But we stayed on board that night and unloaded the next day until nearly dark and hiked three miles under heavy marching order to a rest camp. It is a rest camp all right--you will remember it the rest of your life. It rains 360 days in a year at that camp. We spent a week or ten days in a "pup" tent and it rained every day. We then caught or boarded one of France's Fullman cars, good for eight horses or 40 men. We rode all night and half of the next day in that fashion, unloaded, had breakfast on "bully beef" and "canned willie." We hiked nine kilometers to a French town and were quartered in an old Frenchman's barn. The French people are very polite and seem to think that nothing is too good for an American soldier. They will take you into their houses and insist on your drinking their wine. Very seldom to you see the French drinking water, They drink wine and cider.
On October 1 we started our final training for the big fight, with the French 75mm guns, and the Boches didn't have much love for them. They throw a projectile something like 150 pounds, and have a range of 11 miles. The 142nd F.A, made the best record of any outfit in the camp. The gunners and crowd were almost perfect with the French gun. Our battery was selected to fire for the student officers over here.
We had finished our training and were ready to get ito the fun when the news "finis" was received with gladness by every "sammy," but we hadn't planned on its ending so soon. We only regret that we did not get into action to help deal the finishing blow that made so many hearts glad, both over here in blood-covered countries and to the ones dear to us in the states.
We are expecting to eat Christmas dinner in the states, as it is rumored that we are among 3,000 picked troops of the A. E. F. that will parade in New York City on Christmas day. The 142nd F. A. is the old Arkansas National Guards. The men are all in perfect health, and are all in a big hurry to get back to the states and to their loved ones.
With best regards and love to all,
Private Allen Y. Reid.
Private Sam W Joslin.
Wagoner Robert J. Dodson.
Wagoner Ralph E, Benefield.
Gunnery Cpl. J. Witt Gould.
NOTES: Samuel Wesley Joslin was born on December 16, 1895 and died on September 12, 1957. He is buried in the Magnolia City Cemetery in Magnolia, Arkansas. His military headstone identifies him as an Arkansas Private serving in Battery E 142nd FA during World War I. He enlisted on August 17, 1917 and was discharged on June 25, 1919.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD