TRANSCRIBED FROM THE PINE BLUFF DAILY GRAPHIC NOVEMBER 3, 1918 P. 11
France, Oct. 5, 1918.
Dearest Mother:
If it takes this letter as long to reach you as it does for yours to reach me the war will likely be over and I’ll be well on my way home before you get it. A few more weeks have passed and yet no letter comes from home. My hopes are still high though and they are just bound to be fulfilled soon. In fact I am expecting some letters most any day now.
I have been moving again since I last wrote you and the trys was quite interesting although I have traveled in more comfort. Box cars are in vogue over hede when they want a train for transporting troops. Just go in—take a seat on the floor and mane yourself at home if you can find room—there generally being quite an assortment of feet in your way.
One little difference, I made note of on passing, between moving troops and horses. The horses have hay on the floors of their cars and the tdoops do not.
If you want to look over the scenery as the train goes along there’s two doors also about thirty men trying to use them at once. I have found the most practical thing to do in a case of this kind is to go to sleep. It is a great war we have over here.
We are not a great distance from the front lines here and we arrived at night after “hiking” practically all night. It is not considered to be very healthy to hike in the day time.
At night when you go to bed, there are the big guns “bombing away” up front sing us to sleep. You can hear them “peppering away” day and night, and have rather become accustomed to their noise.
We had a pay day, day before yesterday and I was very glad to have the opportunity to salute the pay master. He brought joy to my heart when he shoved a pile of French money across the table in my direction. Said money greatly resembles cigarette coupons but is spendable and sounds like a fortune when you have just a few dollars.
My pay for two months which was what I had coming was five hundred and fifty francs. That is one hundred an ten good American dollars.
I am not exactly throwing any of it away foolishly but when possible I am treating myself to a few things I have had to go without for a couple of months.
Among other things I bought myself a regular meal. I found an old man that runs a little wine shop and after much persuasion and argument him speaking French and me English with an attempt at French once in a while. He finally agreed to cook me somethings if I would be there. There are no café’s here. So I went shopping I bought a chicken, some potatoes, eggs, bread and butter and some lettuce. He cooked us a dinner for two—another fellow and myself, and served in four courses—French style again—an it was some feed.
1st course, egg on lettuce.
2nd course Chicken with white sauce.
3rd course chicken with tomato sauce.
4th course lettuce salad.
Two quarts of champagne were consumed duriny the meal I left the table with a tight waist belt and a highly contented feeling. It was a great success and the bill was eighteen fdancs ($3.60).
When not occupied in looking for something to eat or otherwise between the hours of 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. I’m drawing maps. That’s about all I do all day long now and we make all kinds of them. Big ones, little ones and middle size ones, some of them colored and some plain black.
We have a regular drafting department which we set up wherever we go and we are on the job the minute we stop, cause the General and his staff must have their maps.
Battle are planned on paper and fought on vround afterward.
It is a great game and very interesting. I like my work immensely and look for it to be still more interestiny as we move up.
Some say that slinging ink is a poor way to fight the Boche and handling a gun may furnish more excitement than pushing a pen, but I have an idea that handling a ruling pen with efficiency is more difficult than handling a gun with a battle going on in your vicinity.
A person might become nervous and make unnecessary blots, you know, they don’t go in the class of work we do.
Gee, Mom, I happened to think of some thing else altogether different. Everytime I think of home and that is about sten times a day, I think of that nice big bath tub upstairs, or have been lately rather.
I haven’t had a bath now for four weeks by the count. They are luxuries in the field as many other of the comforts of home are and are just absolutely not to be had in our present locality.
I am going to do a lot of splashing when I do find some water. Pleasant thought.
We have a Y.M.C.A. here in this place with us. They “popped up” from some where and we are surely thankful. They have chocolate, jam, cigarettes and cookies. Things we sure miss when they are not to be had.
They had a little vaudeville show for us night before last and it was a treat. They found four real American girls somewhere who are touring the camps and playing for the soldiers. Members of the Y.M.C.A. army and they were good. Both their music and singing. It sounded mighty peculiar to hear female voices speaking English. All those I have seen for the last two months speak a language I can’t understand is the reason.
Well, Mother dear, I suppose I have about told you all the things of interest that I can think of at the present and another job came into the shop. Therefore I must go to work.
Bye, Bye for the present. Don’t worry about me any whatever cause I’m just naturally to mean, honorary and lucky to get hurt. You ought to see how I bulge out at the belt line. It is really alarming and I fear my beautifu physique is threatened.
Love to all and worlds of it for you.
Your son,
IRVEN
Sgt. Irven McDaniel,
Hqrs. Det. 7th Div.
American Expd. Forces, France.
NOTES: Irven D. McDaniel was writing to his mother, Mrs. Harry Stutsman of Pine Bluff. He was living in Pine Bluff at the time he enlisted. He was born on April 14, 1894 in Texas and died on March 16, 1960. He is buried in the Glenwood Cemetery in Hot Springs, Arkansas. His military headstone supplication identifies him as from Arkansas and a Sgt. Hdq Co 5th Engrs, 7th Div.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
France, Oct. 5, 1918.
Dearest Mother:
If it takes this letter as long to reach you as it does for yours to reach me the war will likely be over and I’ll be well on my way home before you get it. A few more weeks have passed and yet no letter comes from home. My hopes are still high though and they are just bound to be fulfilled soon. In fact I am expecting some letters most any day now.
I have been moving again since I last wrote you and the trys was quite interesting although I have traveled in more comfort. Box cars are in vogue over hede when they want a train for transporting troops. Just go in—take a seat on the floor and mane yourself at home if you can find room—there generally being quite an assortment of feet in your way.
One little difference, I made note of on passing, between moving troops and horses. The horses have hay on the floors of their cars and the tdoops do not.
If you want to look over the scenery as the train goes along there’s two doors also about thirty men trying to use them at once. I have found the most practical thing to do in a case of this kind is to go to sleep. It is a great war we have over here.
We are not a great distance from the front lines here and we arrived at night after “hiking” practically all night. It is not considered to be very healthy to hike in the day time.
At night when you go to bed, there are the big guns “bombing away” up front sing us to sleep. You can hear them “peppering away” day and night, and have rather become accustomed to their noise.
We had a pay day, day before yesterday and I was very glad to have the opportunity to salute the pay master. He brought joy to my heart when he shoved a pile of French money across the table in my direction. Said money greatly resembles cigarette coupons but is spendable and sounds like a fortune when you have just a few dollars.
My pay for two months which was what I had coming was five hundred and fifty francs. That is one hundred an ten good American dollars.
I am not exactly throwing any of it away foolishly but when possible I am treating myself to a few things I have had to go without for a couple of months.
Among other things I bought myself a regular meal. I found an old man that runs a little wine shop and after much persuasion and argument him speaking French and me English with an attempt at French once in a while. He finally agreed to cook me somethings if I would be there. There are no café’s here. So I went shopping I bought a chicken, some potatoes, eggs, bread and butter and some lettuce. He cooked us a dinner for two—another fellow and myself, and served in four courses—French style again—an it was some feed.
1st course, egg on lettuce.
2nd course Chicken with white sauce.
3rd course chicken with tomato sauce.
4th course lettuce salad.
Two quarts of champagne were consumed duriny the meal I left the table with a tight waist belt and a highly contented feeling. It was a great success and the bill was eighteen fdancs ($3.60).
When not occupied in looking for something to eat or otherwise between the hours of 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. I’m drawing maps. That’s about all I do all day long now and we make all kinds of them. Big ones, little ones and middle size ones, some of them colored and some plain black.
We have a regular drafting department which we set up wherever we go and we are on the job the minute we stop, cause the General and his staff must have their maps.
Battle are planned on paper and fought on vround afterward.
It is a great game and very interesting. I like my work immensely and look for it to be still more interestiny as we move up.
Some say that slinging ink is a poor way to fight the Boche and handling a gun may furnish more excitement than pushing a pen, but I have an idea that handling a ruling pen with efficiency is more difficult than handling a gun with a battle going on in your vicinity.
A person might become nervous and make unnecessary blots, you know, they don’t go in the class of work we do.
Gee, Mom, I happened to think of some thing else altogether different. Everytime I think of home and that is about sten times a day, I think of that nice big bath tub upstairs, or have been lately rather.
I haven’t had a bath now for four weeks by the count. They are luxuries in the field as many other of the comforts of home are and are just absolutely not to be had in our present locality.
I am going to do a lot of splashing when I do find some water. Pleasant thought.
We have a Y.M.C.A. here in this place with us. They “popped up” from some where and we are surely thankful. They have chocolate, jam, cigarettes and cookies. Things we sure miss when they are not to be had.
They had a little vaudeville show for us night before last and it was a treat. They found four real American girls somewhere who are touring the camps and playing for the soldiers. Members of the Y.M.C.A. army and they were good. Both their music and singing. It sounded mighty peculiar to hear female voices speaking English. All those I have seen for the last two months speak a language I can’t understand is the reason.
Well, Mother dear, I suppose I have about told you all the things of interest that I can think of at the present and another job came into the shop. Therefore I must go to work.
Bye, Bye for the present. Don’t worry about me any whatever cause I’m just naturally to mean, honorary and lucky to get hurt. You ought to see how I bulge out at the belt line. It is really alarming and I fear my beautifu physique is threatened.
Love to all and worlds of it for you.
Your son,
IRVEN
Sgt. Irven McDaniel,
Hqrs. Det. 7th Div.
American Expd. Forces, France.
NOTES: Irven D. McDaniel was writing to his mother, Mrs. Harry Stutsman of Pine Bluff. He was living in Pine Bluff at the time he enlisted. He was born on April 14, 1894 in Texas and died on March 16, 1960. He is buried in the Glenwood Cemetery in Hot Springs, Arkansas. His military headstone supplication identifies him as from Arkansas and a Sgt. Hdq Co 5th Engrs, 7th Div.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT