TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DEWITT ENTERPRISE JANUARY 16, 1919 P. 3
St. Florent, France, Dec.8th, 1918
Mrs. Frances Massey:
Dear Mother:
I have been thinking for some time of writing you a few pages about our trip, so will take this opportunity of doing so.
To begin at the beginning, I will say that I left Camp Mills, L. I. N. Y., one afternoon, with a detail of about 20, and we worked at the pier all night and most of the next day. Then the others arrived and we boarded a transport that brought us across.
A ship was something new to most of us, and there was a particular vacancy on that ship for every soldier so confusion reigned for awhile until we learned our respective places and got settled down.
Then the next thing was supper and we scrambled to our places at the tables, where we had about as much extra room as sardines in a can. There we ate and perspired—mostly perspiring for it was beastly hot inside. But out on the deck everything was fine, and we had music, singing, boxing matches, and other sports until taps, most every night.
We went out in the harbor and stayed four days, and then started on the real trip across the largest pool of water it has ever been my pleasure to see. After the ship had gotten into full swing, with four different and distinct motions at once, some of the boys began to feel as if every friend in the world had deserted them, and some went to the rail and began deserting themselves to a certain extent.
Then followed a day or two when mess call or the smell of food, would make them turn pale, but they finally got in a good humor with themselves and would take food in small quantities. Of all the experiences in the world, one of the grandest is sleeping out on deck under a full moon, with the waves ever lapping against the sides of the ship, and occasionally a fine salt spray falling upon you.
We had several days of pretty weather and then a few that were cold and rough. Then the waves would roll in upon us like small mountains. At times, we would be down in a trough, and then would rise out on a big wave that would break and splash all over the front of the ship. Gee, but it was fine sport to stand behind the rail and try to dodge those waves; but some were too quick for us and we would be drenched with the cold salt water.
One afternoon, about three o’clock, when everyone was reading, writing, or sleeping, there came a muffled explosion, and a distinct jar. Everyone hurried to the deck ready to go to the lifeboats. The water all around us was alive with sub-chasers, and there was one roar and tremor after another as depth bombs were dropped for the chasers--for a U-boat was at hand and had hit the ship next to us with a torpedo. But luckily there was little damage done and no lives lost that I know of. The chasers scared the U-boat off and afterwards “did for it,”’ I guess you read an account of it in the papers. It happened on the 7th of September.
We finally arrived at Havre, a western port of France, on the 9th of September, none the worse for our trip, but longing for a change of diet, and believe me, we got it- in the neck--for we had bread, tea and a British substitute called “bloater paste” for supper that night at the rest camp. We stayed at the camp one day, and then were on our way again, this time in box cars that read “eight horses or forty men.” It was then we wished we were horses, for the French box cars are very small compared to ours, but you know it is the spirit of the United States boys to make the best of the worst, and it was the same here, for we piled in as happy as a bunch of kids going to a picnic. Well, the fellow on top could sleep very well, that is, if he could stand to hear the cries of the fellow under him.
One Bohemian, a very funny fellow, was discovered at 2 a.m. standing looking out at the scenery as it appeared by the light of the moon, and when asked what was the matter, he said, “I no sleep pack up like hog. I stand up all night first.”
After two nights and one day riding though a very beautiful part of France, and turning south from Versailles for a distance of about 125 miles, we came to our destination, or we thought so, but it was sling packs and forward march for a distance of 16 miles. It was then that our former hikes proved of value to us, for it was some trip after being penned up on the voyage so long, but with the exception of a few blistered heels, we were none the worse for our long hike.
The first night we were billeted in a large barn, second floor, front, the first floor being taken over by a family of three, six cows, two horses, a bunch of rabbits and several fowl.
After we had swept down the cobwebs dating back to the 17th century we spread our blankets for the night. The elevator (?) was out of order, so we reached our flat by the ladder method, and it was setting at an angle of 89 ½ degrees. They talk about fresh air, but the fragrance that greeted us did not smell of the far-famed roses of France.
There were about six madamoiselles in that little village, all wearing wooden shoes, and when they walked down the street it sounded like a company of infantry at route step.
From there we went out in the country to an old chateau. It is in a beautiful place, and one can imagine how beautiful it must have been in its younger days when it was inhabited. We were billeted in a farmhouse near the chateau, and again it was second floor, front, with a family and live stock underneath. We are in the famous grape section of France, and several days I have helped the French pick grapes and make wine. The principal farming Industries here seem to be the grapes, wine, grain and hay, and some fine herds of cattle are seen, too.
We have picked up enough of the language to get by on, but there is no need to try a conservation, for all the answer we get is a shake of the head, and the words, “No compree” and that ends it for us.
On November 11th, we rolled our packs, and loaded on big trucks, 125 to a truck. Then we made an overland journey of 20 miles to the camp we are at now. We are in wooden barracks here, and have three stoves in each one, which heat them to a comfortable degree. Our steeping bunks are built in double sections, upper and lower berths, and they are comfortable to a degree.
We are near a town of 5000 population, and it is as full of kids as a cur is of fleas. It is a continual cry of “souvenir for me?” “Cigarette for me?” “Gum for me?” “Tabac for me?” They seem to think we are made of souvenirs, etc., and everyone has something to sell us, for they say “the American soldat has ‘bookoo’ francs,” or many dollars.
I saw a lady sewing in a small niche of a place, and she had a basket of grapes and nuts on the end of the _____ to sell to the soldiers who passed by, and one even comes out to the camp every day with a baby-carriage filled with handkerchiefs, post cards, etc., and we have lots of fun trying to talk to her.
The French have many days or celebrations, mostly religious I think, and the huge church towers have six or eight bells of different tones in them, and it is wonderful to hear the different tones mingling and drifting out on the clear air when they are tolled at night.
One may read all they wish about the wonderful country, but it remains for the “eye to behold” before it can be truly appreciated. There are many beautiful buildings here, some of them are centuries old, castles, chateaus, cathedrals, convents, towers, etc., and one can in fancy weave many tales of love, romance, tragedy, and adventure, and doubtless some of them would be true. There is no wonder the French had as their war slogan “There will be no defeat” for this wonderful country is truly worth fighting and dying for.
Well, I wish we could have been at home to help celebrate the news of “Peace.” But we were heard from over here, for the whole camp went wild, and we proceeded to the town where we joined the French in parties, singing, shoutings, and the shooting of fireworks, far into the night.
Of course all of us want to come home, but it will be some time yet before we can do so, and we just have to be patient as possible until our time comes, but it will be a joyous moment for everyone when we can turn our eyes westward ho and with hearts full of love and thanksgiving cry out “homeward bound.”
Here’s hoping that all goes well with everyone at home, and that all the boys may soon meet there in a glorious reunion, with the consciousness of having done their bit toward upholding the “Goddess of Liberty” to the world, and of helping drive the Hun from “No Man’s Land” back into “Hunland” where may they ever remain.
It will be impossible for us to spend the holidays with you, but wherever we are, we will be thinking of loved ones at home, and let everyone be of good cheer, for we will be home in a few months.
Your loving son,
Ross Morgan
Notes: Morgan was writing to his mother Mrs. Frances Massey of Nady, Arkansas.
TRANSCRIBED BY PAYTON DHOOGE AND ISAAC WOLTER
St. Florent, France, Dec.8th, 1918
Mrs. Frances Massey:
Dear Mother:
I have been thinking for some time of writing you a few pages about our trip, so will take this opportunity of doing so.
To begin at the beginning, I will say that I left Camp Mills, L. I. N. Y., one afternoon, with a detail of about 20, and we worked at the pier all night and most of the next day. Then the others arrived and we boarded a transport that brought us across.
A ship was something new to most of us, and there was a particular vacancy on that ship for every soldier so confusion reigned for awhile until we learned our respective places and got settled down.
Then the next thing was supper and we scrambled to our places at the tables, where we had about as much extra room as sardines in a can. There we ate and perspired—mostly perspiring for it was beastly hot inside. But out on the deck everything was fine, and we had music, singing, boxing matches, and other sports until taps, most every night.
We went out in the harbor and stayed four days, and then started on the real trip across the largest pool of water it has ever been my pleasure to see. After the ship had gotten into full swing, with four different and distinct motions at once, some of the boys began to feel as if every friend in the world had deserted them, and some went to the rail and began deserting themselves to a certain extent.
Then followed a day or two when mess call or the smell of food, would make them turn pale, but they finally got in a good humor with themselves and would take food in small quantities. Of all the experiences in the world, one of the grandest is sleeping out on deck under a full moon, with the waves ever lapping against the sides of the ship, and occasionally a fine salt spray falling upon you.
We had several days of pretty weather and then a few that were cold and rough. Then the waves would roll in upon us like small mountains. At times, we would be down in a trough, and then would rise out on a big wave that would break and splash all over the front of the ship. Gee, but it was fine sport to stand behind the rail and try to dodge those waves; but some were too quick for us and we would be drenched with the cold salt water.
One afternoon, about three o’clock, when everyone was reading, writing, or sleeping, there came a muffled explosion, and a distinct jar. Everyone hurried to the deck ready to go to the lifeboats. The water all around us was alive with sub-chasers, and there was one roar and tremor after another as depth bombs were dropped for the chasers--for a U-boat was at hand and had hit the ship next to us with a torpedo. But luckily there was little damage done and no lives lost that I know of. The chasers scared the U-boat off and afterwards “did for it,”’ I guess you read an account of it in the papers. It happened on the 7th of September.
We finally arrived at Havre, a western port of France, on the 9th of September, none the worse for our trip, but longing for a change of diet, and believe me, we got it- in the neck--for we had bread, tea and a British substitute called “bloater paste” for supper that night at the rest camp. We stayed at the camp one day, and then were on our way again, this time in box cars that read “eight horses or forty men.” It was then we wished we were horses, for the French box cars are very small compared to ours, but you know it is the spirit of the United States boys to make the best of the worst, and it was the same here, for we piled in as happy as a bunch of kids going to a picnic. Well, the fellow on top could sleep very well, that is, if he could stand to hear the cries of the fellow under him.
One Bohemian, a very funny fellow, was discovered at 2 a.m. standing looking out at the scenery as it appeared by the light of the moon, and when asked what was the matter, he said, “I no sleep pack up like hog. I stand up all night first.”
After two nights and one day riding though a very beautiful part of France, and turning south from Versailles for a distance of about 125 miles, we came to our destination, or we thought so, but it was sling packs and forward march for a distance of 16 miles. It was then that our former hikes proved of value to us, for it was some trip after being penned up on the voyage so long, but with the exception of a few blistered heels, we were none the worse for our long hike.
The first night we were billeted in a large barn, second floor, front, the first floor being taken over by a family of three, six cows, two horses, a bunch of rabbits and several fowl.
After we had swept down the cobwebs dating back to the 17th century we spread our blankets for the night. The elevator (?) was out of order, so we reached our flat by the ladder method, and it was setting at an angle of 89 ½ degrees. They talk about fresh air, but the fragrance that greeted us did not smell of the far-famed roses of France.
There were about six madamoiselles in that little village, all wearing wooden shoes, and when they walked down the street it sounded like a company of infantry at route step.
From there we went out in the country to an old chateau. It is in a beautiful place, and one can imagine how beautiful it must have been in its younger days when it was inhabited. We were billeted in a farmhouse near the chateau, and again it was second floor, front, with a family and live stock underneath. We are in the famous grape section of France, and several days I have helped the French pick grapes and make wine. The principal farming Industries here seem to be the grapes, wine, grain and hay, and some fine herds of cattle are seen, too.
We have picked up enough of the language to get by on, but there is no need to try a conservation, for all the answer we get is a shake of the head, and the words, “No compree” and that ends it for us.
On November 11th, we rolled our packs, and loaded on big trucks, 125 to a truck. Then we made an overland journey of 20 miles to the camp we are at now. We are in wooden barracks here, and have three stoves in each one, which heat them to a comfortable degree. Our steeping bunks are built in double sections, upper and lower berths, and they are comfortable to a degree.
We are near a town of 5000 population, and it is as full of kids as a cur is of fleas. It is a continual cry of “souvenir for me?” “Cigarette for me?” “Gum for me?” “Tabac for me?” They seem to think we are made of souvenirs, etc., and everyone has something to sell us, for they say “the American soldat has ‘bookoo’ francs,” or many dollars.
I saw a lady sewing in a small niche of a place, and she had a basket of grapes and nuts on the end of the _____ to sell to the soldiers who passed by, and one even comes out to the camp every day with a baby-carriage filled with handkerchiefs, post cards, etc., and we have lots of fun trying to talk to her.
The French have many days or celebrations, mostly religious I think, and the huge church towers have six or eight bells of different tones in them, and it is wonderful to hear the different tones mingling and drifting out on the clear air when they are tolled at night.
One may read all they wish about the wonderful country, but it remains for the “eye to behold” before it can be truly appreciated. There are many beautiful buildings here, some of them are centuries old, castles, chateaus, cathedrals, convents, towers, etc., and one can in fancy weave many tales of love, romance, tragedy, and adventure, and doubtless some of them would be true. There is no wonder the French had as their war slogan “There will be no defeat” for this wonderful country is truly worth fighting and dying for.
Well, I wish we could have been at home to help celebrate the news of “Peace.” But we were heard from over here, for the whole camp went wild, and we proceeded to the town where we joined the French in parties, singing, shoutings, and the shooting of fireworks, far into the night.
Of course all of us want to come home, but it will be some time yet before we can do so, and we just have to be patient as possible until our time comes, but it will be a joyous moment for everyone when we can turn our eyes westward ho and with hearts full of love and thanksgiving cry out “homeward bound.”
Here’s hoping that all goes well with everyone at home, and that all the boys may soon meet there in a glorious reunion, with the consciousness of having done their bit toward upholding the “Goddess of Liberty” to the world, and of helping drive the Hun from “No Man’s Land” back into “Hunland” where may they ever remain.
It will be impossible for us to spend the holidays with you, but wherever we are, we will be thinking of loved ones at home, and let everyone be of good cheer, for we will be home in a few months.
Your loving son,
Ross Morgan
Notes: Morgan was writing to his mother Mrs. Frances Massey of Nady, Arkansas.
TRANSCRIBED BY PAYTON DHOOGE AND ISAAC WOLTER