TRANSCRIBED FROM THE ARKANSAS DEMOCRAT JUNE 11, 1918 P. 10
Dear Mothe:
Today is Mother’s Day.
On this day I am filled with joy to know that my dear Mother is still with me. Although I am in a foreign country and on the battlefield in the world’s greatest war. I feel that my dearest friend is praying for me day by day. I cannot express my confidence in the outcome of the present crisis, which is for the cause of democracy. I know that it will not be long before we can return home. We are all working; working hard, and we know that our work is not in vain, and we are assured each day of the success that is sure to come.
Our officers are very good men, who know their part of the game, and they too are striving to bring the war to a speedy end. I realize that the people at home are too making sacrifices each day, but if you see the French people with tickets of permission for almost everything they use you would see they are the truest patriots of us all.
I met a very pretty French girl a few days ago, and was very much pleased with her style and looks, and asked to call and see her; she, of course, was very glad to have me call. This being my first visit to a home of the French I did not know how to act. However, things turned out very nicely. They served a very elaborate lunch, which consisted of brown bread, coffee with sugar and cream, white wine and nuts. Their everyday meal consists of bread and coffee or chicory. Most of the people dress well, and in the very latest styles, especially the girls between 16 and 20 years old.
Picture shows are about the only form of amusement in the city; tickets one franc 50 centimes each (about 25 cents.) Soldiers are not allowed on the streets after 9:30 p.m. We are not allowed to drink wine or beer in the cafes with women.
The rules are very strict, and, of course, we get in on all right. In your last letter you asked if I was getting your letters all right. Yes, I get them occasionally. I don’t know how many I miss. I write home twice a week. How often do you get my letters? Lots of love to all, and may God bless my Mother.
NOTES: Sgt. Carl Raymond Powell was writing to his mother, Mrs. W. K. Powell of Des Arc, Arkansas. He was born on February 11, 1893 in Marquez, Texas and died on January 1976. He is buried in the Memorial Park Cemetery in Memphis, Tennessee. He was described as being of medium height and build with brown eyes and auburn hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
Dear Mothe:
Today is Mother’s Day.
On this day I am filled with joy to know that my dear Mother is still with me. Although I am in a foreign country and on the battlefield in the world’s greatest war. I feel that my dearest friend is praying for me day by day. I cannot express my confidence in the outcome of the present crisis, which is for the cause of democracy. I know that it will not be long before we can return home. We are all working; working hard, and we know that our work is not in vain, and we are assured each day of the success that is sure to come.
Our officers are very good men, who know their part of the game, and they too are striving to bring the war to a speedy end. I realize that the people at home are too making sacrifices each day, but if you see the French people with tickets of permission for almost everything they use you would see they are the truest patriots of us all.
I met a very pretty French girl a few days ago, and was very much pleased with her style and looks, and asked to call and see her; she, of course, was very glad to have me call. This being my first visit to a home of the French I did not know how to act. However, things turned out very nicely. They served a very elaborate lunch, which consisted of brown bread, coffee with sugar and cream, white wine and nuts. Their everyday meal consists of bread and coffee or chicory. Most of the people dress well, and in the very latest styles, especially the girls between 16 and 20 years old.
Picture shows are about the only form of amusement in the city; tickets one franc 50 centimes each (about 25 cents.) Soldiers are not allowed on the streets after 9:30 p.m. We are not allowed to drink wine or beer in the cafes with women.
The rules are very strict, and, of course, we get in on all right. In your last letter you asked if I was getting your letters all right. Yes, I get them occasionally. I don’t know how many I miss. I write home twice a week. How often do you get my letters? Lots of love to all, and may God bless my Mother.
NOTES: Sgt. Carl Raymond Powell was writing to his mother, Mrs. W. K. Powell of Des Arc, Arkansas. He was born on February 11, 1893 in Marquez, Texas and died on January 1976. He is buried in the Memorial Park Cemetery in Memphis, Tennessee. He was described as being of medium height and build with brown eyes and auburn hair.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT