TRANSCRIBED FROM THE COURIER DEMOCRAT FEBRUARY 21, 1918 P. 4
"Somewhere in France."
Dear Mother:
I am not writing many letters. I realize that it is a gigantic task to censor mail, and I shall write as few as possible. The things I would like to say, and which would make my letters interesting, would of necessity be cut out by the censor. I am, however, keeping a careful record of things, and will tell you all when the war is over. I shall write a note every week, saying as much as I can; though don't be alarmed if you don't hear every week. The mail boats may not run that often, and some letters may be lost.
We are well quartered--about like the men in the American cantonments, I imagine. The food, too is as good and as plentiful as in America. There is of course a scarcity of many things, and great economy has to be exercised. The Government is, however, I think, meeting the Herculean problem of feeding the expeditionary forces in a highly successful way, in spite of the fact that a submarine-infested ocean lies between France and America. We are at a concentration camp now, and are busy assembling Fords, and I hope to be at the front for a great while.
The "Y's" have good libraries here. I have resolved never to waste another minute. What time I am not busy with military things I am reading, or studying French. I am much interested in France, French literature and language, and I hope to learn a great deal during my stay here.
The weather is somewhat rainy, but very mild--much like our own. The mud is our worst enemy so far.
Write me a letter every week; and remember I am in fine health, happy, working, and well cared for as to clothes, food and quarters.
The American Red Cross has given us an issue of woolen things.
BENJ. McCLURE.
U. S. Ambulance Service,
NOTES: Benjamin Thompson McClure is writing to his mother Mrs. L. B. McClure. He was a senior at the University of Virginia just before enlisting in the service. He was born on January 28, 1895 in Arkansas and died on June 25, 1932 in Aspinwall, Pa. He is buried in the Oakland Cemetery in Russellville, Arkansas. He departed from Hoboken, NJ on December 18, 1917 onboard the Pastores serving as a Private in Section 516, USAAS, Medical Department. After the war he was a professor at the University of Minnesota, Dean of Men at Dickinson Seminary in Williamsport, Pa. and Professor of English at the University of Pittsburg.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
"Somewhere in France."
Dear Mother:
I am not writing many letters. I realize that it is a gigantic task to censor mail, and I shall write as few as possible. The things I would like to say, and which would make my letters interesting, would of necessity be cut out by the censor. I am, however, keeping a careful record of things, and will tell you all when the war is over. I shall write a note every week, saying as much as I can; though don't be alarmed if you don't hear every week. The mail boats may not run that often, and some letters may be lost.
We are well quartered--about like the men in the American cantonments, I imagine. The food, too is as good and as plentiful as in America. There is of course a scarcity of many things, and great economy has to be exercised. The Government is, however, I think, meeting the Herculean problem of feeding the expeditionary forces in a highly successful way, in spite of the fact that a submarine-infested ocean lies between France and America. We are at a concentration camp now, and are busy assembling Fords, and I hope to be at the front for a great while.
The "Y's" have good libraries here. I have resolved never to waste another minute. What time I am not busy with military things I am reading, or studying French. I am much interested in France, French literature and language, and I hope to learn a great deal during my stay here.
The weather is somewhat rainy, but very mild--much like our own. The mud is our worst enemy so far.
Write me a letter every week; and remember I am in fine health, happy, working, and well cared for as to clothes, food and quarters.
The American Red Cross has given us an issue of woolen things.
BENJ. McCLURE.
U. S. Ambulance Service,
NOTES: Benjamin Thompson McClure is writing to his mother Mrs. L. B. McClure. He was a senior at the University of Virginia just before enlisting in the service. He was born on January 28, 1895 in Arkansas and died on June 25, 1932 in Aspinwall, Pa. He is buried in the Oakland Cemetery in Russellville, Arkansas. He departed from Hoboken, NJ on December 18, 1917 onboard the Pastores serving as a Private in Section 516, USAAS, Medical Department. After the war he was a professor at the University of Minnesota, Dean of Men at Dickinson Seminary in Williamsport, Pa. and Professor of English at the University of Pittsburg.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD