TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DAILY ARKANSAS GAZETTE AUGUST 3, 1918 P. 4
As you see by the heading of my letter I am at the First Army Corps Artillery School. Have been here about six weeks and have no earthly idea how long I will be here. A course in the school lasts five weeks, then follows a week or so of interim, then another five weeks; term. Our battery is acting as one of school batteries and, of course, I will be here until relieved by some other outfit. We arrived shortly before the last course began, and I received permission to take the course and got a lot of valuable instruction out of it, but am very glad tomorrow is the last day and I go back to duty with the battery.
We are almost in the extreme eastern part of France, a very, very pretty part of the country, and are about 40 or 50 kilometers from the front or at least one part of it, in which we Americans are very much interested. (A little touch of realism--was just stopped and informed by the guard that the camouflage on my windows was not properly adjusted and lights were showing through. I am writing from the little hut we call our battery office.) It is so pretty around here, and we see so little of the worst part of the war that it is sometime hard to realize that we are so very close to the big war and that only a shift of the Hun's offensive would be very liable to put us right in the middle of it at any time. However, we have a number of little things happening all the time to remind us that there is something going on. Hun airplanes and balloons are not such an uncommon sight, though they are usually so high up as to be altogether out of sight. Day before yesterday several of us watched a large balloon pass over at a great height. About 9 o'clock in the morning, and that evening for dinner had as our guest the American aviator who had discovered it to be a Boche and had sent it down in flames.
Four or five air fights have occurred where we could see them, though I could not tell much about what was going on, even with glasses, on account of the altitude. The fight in which Major Lufberry was killed occurred near here, although I did not see it. He used to fly around here so much that nearly every one knew his plane by the sound of his engine, and every day when the weather was nice he used to pull off a few stunts for us after supper, then two or three large circles and he was gone back home. We miss him, though his name is never mentioned among the boys. He was a wonderful flyer and a great favorite everywhere.
I am glad in your letter you went over the list of fellows and where they all are. It seems so strange to hear some of them are just starting off to camp now. Why, it seems years ago that this thing began, and I can hardly realize that men are still being called out to start in.
And Mac don't let any one tell you that this is all about over. When ever you hear about any one writing home to that effect, you can put it down that he is just trying to make the home folks feel better. Of course I do not get any inside dope, and am not a confident of General Pershing's but it does not take a very wise man to see the hardest part of the war is ahead of us, and it is up to American troops to put the punch into it. The hardest thing for the man just coming over and the folks back home to realize is that this is a new brand or warfare, developed scientifically, to a point way beyond where any one's imagination ever roamed; it has been constructive, becoming more and more scientific all the time, as first one side and then the other made advances in some particular branch, until now our formerly well trained soldier and officer is merely a novice and must start in and study and train for months until he can go in and be efficient. This is particularly true in the artillery. I have learned more mathematics and science since coming here than in all my college and university course. I have now finished two schools over here, and am supposed to be as well trained as a school can make me. Now it just depends upon when my division is ordered to the front as to when I can go back to my regiment. It may be next week, or next winter; it may be us, some other outfit, or both. In the army we always hope to get up there, but do not dare prophesy where we will be the next day. It is the best and easiest way not to let it worry you.
You may all talk about your famous French beauties, but I have not had the pleasure of seeing any of them. Why, I have not spoken to what I would call even a half-girl since I left the States. I have been all across England, and twice across France, and have not seen one that more than caused me to look around. At Paris, they tell me that there are some worth while, but I have not been closer than about 50 kilometers of there, and it does not look as though I'd ever get there. As a matter of fact, I have not been off for 24 hours since I left Hope the last time. I expect to get a week's leave soon, and I expect to go to some resort on the Mediterranean, probably Nice, but that is only in my mind, as yet.
Lights are about to go out, and also I am afraid I have bored you with all this, so I will close, wishing to be remembered most sincerely to all the boys of the club, and to our mutual friends.
NOTES: Robert W. Pollard was writing to a friend, T. B. McDavitt. He was born on January 12, 1892 in Hot Springs, Arkansas and died on June 26, 1969 in Bloomfield, Michigan. He is buried in the Pine Lake Cemetery in West Bloomfield, Michigan. His military headstone identifies him as Michigan, 1st Lt serving in Btry. A 121 Field Arty during World War I. He was a graduate of the Officers Training Camp at Fort Logan Roots in North Little Rock, Arkansas. He was described as being tall and of medium build with dark brown eyes and black hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
As you see by the heading of my letter I am at the First Army Corps Artillery School. Have been here about six weeks and have no earthly idea how long I will be here. A course in the school lasts five weeks, then follows a week or so of interim, then another five weeks; term. Our battery is acting as one of school batteries and, of course, I will be here until relieved by some other outfit. We arrived shortly before the last course began, and I received permission to take the course and got a lot of valuable instruction out of it, but am very glad tomorrow is the last day and I go back to duty with the battery.
We are almost in the extreme eastern part of France, a very, very pretty part of the country, and are about 40 or 50 kilometers from the front or at least one part of it, in which we Americans are very much interested. (A little touch of realism--was just stopped and informed by the guard that the camouflage on my windows was not properly adjusted and lights were showing through. I am writing from the little hut we call our battery office.) It is so pretty around here, and we see so little of the worst part of the war that it is sometime hard to realize that we are so very close to the big war and that only a shift of the Hun's offensive would be very liable to put us right in the middle of it at any time. However, we have a number of little things happening all the time to remind us that there is something going on. Hun airplanes and balloons are not such an uncommon sight, though they are usually so high up as to be altogether out of sight. Day before yesterday several of us watched a large balloon pass over at a great height. About 9 o'clock in the morning, and that evening for dinner had as our guest the American aviator who had discovered it to be a Boche and had sent it down in flames.
Four or five air fights have occurred where we could see them, though I could not tell much about what was going on, even with glasses, on account of the altitude. The fight in which Major Lufberry was killed occurred near here, although I did not see it. He used to fly around here so much that nearly every one knew his plane by the sound of his engine, and every day when the weather was nice he used to pull off a few stunts for us after supper, then two or three large circles and he was gone back home. We miss him, though his name is never mentioned among the boys. He was a wonderful flyer and a great favorite everywhere.
I am glad in your letter you went over the list of fellows and where they all are. It seems so strange to hear some of them are just starting off to camp now. Why, it seems years ago that this thing began, and I can hardly realize that men are still being called out to start in.
And Mac don't let any one tell you that this is all about over. When ever you hear about any one writing home to that effect, you can put it down that he is just trying to make the home folks feel better. Of course I do not get any inside dope, and am not a confident of General Pershing's but it does not take a very wise man to see the hardest part of the war is ahead of us, and it is up to American troops to put the punch into it. The hardest thing for the man just coming over and the folks back home to realize is that this is a new brand or warfare, developed scientifically, to a point way beyond where any one's imagination ever roamed; it has been constructive, becoming more and more scientific all the time, as first one side and then the other made advances in some particular branch, until now our formerly well trained soldier and officer is merely a novice and must start in and study and train for months until he can go in and be efficient. This is particularly true in the artillery. I have learned more mathematics and science since coming here than in all my college and university course. I have now finished two schools over here, and am supposed to be as well trained as a school can make me. Now it just depends upon when my division is ordered to the front as to when I can go back to my regiment. It may be next week, or next winter; it may be us, some other outfit, or both. In the army we always hope to get up there, but do not dare prophesy where we will be the next day. It is the best and easiest way not to let it worry you.
You may all talk about your famous French beauties, but I have not had the pleasure of seeing any of them. Why, I have not spoken to what I would call even a half-girl since I left the States. I have been all across England, and twice across France, and have not seen one that more than caused me to look around. At Paris, they tell me that there are some worth while, but I have not been closer than about 50 kilometers of there, and it does not look as though I'd ever get there. As a matter of fact, I have not been off for 24 hours since I left Hope the last time. I expect to get a week's leave soon, and I expect to go to some resort on the Mediterranean, probably Nice, but that is only in my mind, as yet.
Lights are about to go out, and also I am afraid I have bored you with all this, so I will close, wishing to be remembered most sincerely to all the boys of the club, and to our mutual friends.
NOTES: Robert W. Pollard was writing to a friend, T. B. McDavitt. He was born on January 12, 1892 in Hot Springs, Arkansas and died on June 26, 1969 in Bloomfield, Michigan. He is buried in the Pine Lake Cemetery in West Bloomfield, Michigan. His military headstone identifies him as Michigan, 1st Lt serving in Btry. A 121 Field Arty during World War I. He was a graduate of the Officers Training Camp at Fort Logan Roots in North Little Rock, Arkansas. He was described as being tall and of medium build with dark brown eyes and black hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT