TRANSCRIBED FROM THE ARKANSAS DEMOCRAT OCTOBER 9, 1918 P. 4
Evacuation Hospital No. 3,
Somewhere in France,
September 9, 1918.
Dear Friends:
It has been some time since I heard from you and wish you would write me once and a while.
You don’t know what a comfort letters are when you are so far from home and friends.
Someone sent me the little clipping from the paper you had put in and I thought it was sweet of you to write me up in the paper. Thanks to you. Since that time I have had lots of experience. Shortly after I wrote you I was called to Paris military work, much to my delight, as I love it. For one day I was at an American ambulance in the operating room, where we had in 12 hours 47 operation. Army, Navy and Red Cross surgeons were all operating at one time, so you can see how busy we were. After that I was put in the operating room out at a big 1,000-bed tent hospital at Antenil, the famous race course outside Paris, and when the big drive was on I was made night supervisor in the big operating room, where we had from 39 to 43 operations a night. Some of the poor boys had more than one wound. I loved the work, for it was doing something for our own boys, who deserve the best that we can give them. The American mothers should be proud of their sons, for they are such brave, wonderful soldiers and such good patients. There is never a complaint from them no matter how badly they are wounded or gassed.
When business quieted down at our hospital I was sent with 16 nurses to the front near Chateau Thierry, so you know how interesting that was. We left Paris with gas masks and helmets over our shoulders. We traveled in big army trucks and as we passed we were cheered by the French and our boys--especially our boys. They yelled “Hello, America” every time we passed any of them. Bless their hearts, some of them will never see America again. It is very sad to me. We saw bombed villages, wire entanglements, trenches and graves with wooden crosses.
When we arrived at the hospital we found a tent hospital situated in the valley with a beautiful country surrounding it. The nurses’ tent sat on top of a hill with a path through the wheat field to our mess tent, where we sat on wooden benches at wooden tables and ate off of the dishes, so the soldiers have nothing on us. We were entertained by flies and bees, which were affectionate—especially the dear little bees, which stung me the first day. Then a few days after I had another sting.
We took long walks over the ground that fighting had taken place on. We visited a little church that was shot all to pieces, but a statue of Christ still stood untouched, as well as the pictures on the wall. We saw a grave with a wooden cross on it and in it two unknown American boys with their helmest full of holes laying on top of the grave. We gathered flowers and put on them. I am sure it would have pleased their poor mothers—God bless them. My heart aches for every mother of sons now, for it is hard to raise a boy through babyhood, childhood, and then in manhood give tem to war.
We remained in this place one week, when the hospital decided to move, and took us with them. We rode in trucks to a nearby station, and at night were put on a train which pulled out about midnight. We had no sleepers. We slept on little narrow seats, which were uncomfortable, so some of us rolled up in blankets and slept on the floor, using our gas masks for pillows. I sure was glad to see daylight. If someone had told a year ago I would travel through France in such style, I would have been insulted. But now I am glad to do it. After a day and a night trip we settled in the same place I was when I first came to France, but can’t mention names.
France is such a beautiful country, no wonder the French people fight so hard for it. Poor things! I hope this will end all their troubles with the Germans and that they get all that rightfully belongs to them.
Mrs. Sam Reyburn is lovely to me. She writes to me regularly and so does Mrs. M. B. Sanders. Bless them both. I sure do love them. I never knew two better women and I am proud to be their friend.
Lovingly yours,
MARGARET LYTTON.
NOTES: This letter was written by Margaret Lytton to Mr. and Mrs. Meyer Pollock. She was born about 1881 in Tennessee and grew up in Pine Bluff, Jefferson County, Arkansas. She graduated from Pulaski County hospital school of nursing in 1904. She became a Red Cross nurse and went to France in 1918.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
Evacuation Hospital No. 3,
Somewhere in France,
September 9, 1918.
Dear Friends:
It has been some time since I heard from you and wish you would write me once and a while.
You don’t know what a comfort letters are when you are so far from home and friends.
Someone sent me the little clipping from the paper you had put in and I thought it was sweet of you to write me up in the paper. Thanks to you. Since that time I have had lots of experience. Shortly after I wrote you I was called to Paris military work, much to my delight, as I love it. For one day I was at an American ambulance in the operating room, where we had in 12 hours 47 operation. Army, Navy and Red Cross surgeons were all operating at one time, so you can see how busy we were. After that I was put in the operating room out at a big 1,000-bed tent hospital at Antenil, the famous race course outside Paris, and when the big drive was on I was made night supervisor in the big operating room, where we had from 39 to 43 operations a night. Some of the poor boys had more than one wound. I loved the work, for it was doing something for our own boys, who deserve the best that we can give them. The American mothers should be proud of their sons, for they are such brave, wonderful soldiers and such good patients. There is never a complaint from them no matter how badly they are wounded or gassed.
When business quieted down at our hospital I was sent with 16 nurses to the front near Chateau Thierry, so you know how interesting that was. We left Paris with gas masks and helmets over our shoulders. We traveled in big army trucks and as we passed we were cheered by the French and our boys--especially our boys. They yelled “Hello, America” every time we passed any of them. Bless their hearts, some of them will never see America again. It is very sad to me. We saw bombed villages, wire entanglements, trenches and graves with wooden crosses.
When we arrived at the hospital we found a tent hospital situated in the valley with a beautiful country surrounding it. The nurses’ tent sat on top of a hill with a path through the wheat field to our mess tent, where we sat on wooden benches at wooden tables and ate off of the dishes, so the soldiers have nothing on us. We were entertained by flies and bees, which were affectionate—especially the dear little bees, which stung me the first day. Then a few days after I had another sting.
We took long walks over the ground that fighting had taken place on. We visited a little church that was shot all to pieces, but a statue of Christ still stood untouched, as well as the pictures on the wall. We saw a grave with a wooden cross on it and in it two unknown American boys with their helmest full of holes laying on top of the grave. We gathered flowers and put on them. I am sure it would have pleased their poor mothers—God bless them. My heart aches for every mother of sons now, for it is hard to raise a boy through babyhood, childhood, and then in manhood give tem to war.
We remained in this place one week, when the hospital decided to move, and took us with them. We rode in trucks to a nearby station, and at night were put on a train which pulled out about midnight. We had no sleepers. We slept on little narrow seats, which were uncomfortable, so some of us rolled up in blankets and slept on the floor, using our gas masks for pillows. I sure was glad to see daylight. If someone had told a year ago I would travel through France in such style, I would have been insulted. But now I am glad to do it. After a day and a night trip we settled in the same place I was when I first came to France, but can’t mention names.
France is such a beautiful country, no wonder the French people fight so hard for it. Poor things! I hope this will end all their troubles with the Germans and that they get all that rightfully belongs to them.
Mrs. Sam Reyburn is lovely to me. She writes to me regularly and so does Mrs. M. B. Sanders. Bless them both. I sure do love them. I never knew two better women and I am proud to be their friend.
Lovingly yours,
MARGARET LYTTON.
NOTES: This letter was written by Margaret Lytton to Mr. and Mrs. Meyer Pollock. She was born about 1881 in Tennessee and grew up in Pine Bluff, Jefferson County, Arkansas. She graduated from Pulaski County hospital school of nursing in 1904. She became a Red Cross nurse and went to France in 1918.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT