TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DARDANELLE POST-DISPATCH APRIL 25, 1918 P. 1
A. P. O. 726, France,
March 26, 1918.
Dear Father:
The package containing cigarettes and tobacco arrived today and was gladly received, for it caught me just about half out. Ethel’s package has not yet reached me, but I suppose it will when I least expect it.
Am alone in the garage office tonight and everything is unusually quiet, so I am taking this chance to write. Everything is in a hubbub and a noisy rush during the day and at night there is not much doing. Of course we work day and night but it is much quieter after dark.
I know there are lots of things you would like to know that are going on over here, but the most interesting things are barred from our letters.
Even at that, I don’t know so much about the war part of it for I haven’t been to the front yet and don’t expect to be there very soon.
Wish you could see some of the places I have been since I landed. A uniform has carried me lots of places that a tourist never sees. Have visited old chateaus and quaint little villages and have toured quite a bit of this portion of France in a Ford. You can tell Jake Karnop and Ward Beley that Henry Ford is well represented in this country and on the radiators of his ambulances is “Made in U. S. A.” The automobile roads are wonderful. Have travelled mile after mile on roads as smooth as asphalt pavement which were lined on either side by beautiful trees. The curves are rounded off nicely and the roads wind through field after field and in and out of odd little villages with their queer little stone houses.
Every now and then one will pass a string of high-wheeled carts, sometimes three or four in a bunch. They have only two wheels and one horse. Nine out of ten are carrying huge casks of wine. One then does not wonder at the number of vinyards he passes. The French are great for their wine and it is very cheap.
This portion of France is untouched by the ravages of the Hun except in the hearts of those families who have lost members at the front.
I sincerely hope that we can bring this war to an early close so that we can come home and better appreciate the wonderful country in which we live. One only has to travel through these countries to realize just how far ahead of the balance of the world the United States really is. It does not seem hardly possible that it can be so. France may have its “Parisian Styles” but it takes the American women to wear them to the best advantage. Of course there are many pretty women in France but I prefer the Yankee girls myself.
My best regards to all my friends and lots of love to you. Hoping to hear from you again real soon and thanking you a thousand times for the tobacco, I am.
Yours,
Allan.
NOTES: Allan Barr Ross was born on April 1, 1891 in Dardanelle, Arkansas and died on February 11, 1961 in Phoenix, Arizona. He is buried in the Ft. Rosecrans National Cemetery in San Diego, California. He enlisted on May 26, 1917 and was discharged on September 15, 1919. He served as a Sergt. In the Regimental Supply Service, Co. D. Postal Express.
TRANSCRIBED BY LINDA MATTHEWS
A. P. O. 726, France,
March 26, 1918.
Dear Father:
The package containing cigarettes and tobacco arrived today and was gladly received, for it caught me just about half out. Ethel’s package has not yet reached me, but I suppose it will when I least expect it.
Am alone in the garage office tonight and everything is unusually quiet, so I am taking this chance to write. Everything is in a hubbub and a noisy rush during the day and at night there is not much doing. Of course we work day and night but it is much quieter after dark.
I know there are lots of things you would like to know that are going on over here, but the most interesting things are barred from our letters.
Even at that, I don’t know so much about the war part of it for I haven’t been to the front yet and don’t expect to be there very soon.
Wish you could see some of the places I have been since I landed. A uniform has carried me lots of places that a tourist never sees. Have visited old chateaus and quaint little villages and have toured quite a bit of this portion of France in a Ford. You can tell Jake Karnop and Ward Beley that Henry Ford is well represented in this country and on the radiators of his ambulances is “Made in U. S. A.” The automobile roads are wonderful. Have travelled mile after mile on roads as smooth as asphalt pavement which were lined on either side by beautiful trees. The curves are rounded off nicely and the roads wind through field after field and in and out of odd little villages with their queer little stone houses.
Every now and then one will pass a string of high-wheeled carts, sometimes three or four in a bunch. They have only two wheels and one horse. Nine out of ten are carrying huge casks of wine. One then does not wonder at the number of vinyards he passes. The French are great for their wine and it is very cheap.
This portion of France is untouched by the ravages of the Hun except in the hearts of those families who have lost members at the front.
I sincerely hope that we can bring this war to an early close so that we can come home and better appreciate the wonderful country in which we live. One only has to travel through these countries to realize just how far ahead of the balance of the world the United States really is. It does not seem hardly possible that it can be so. France may have its “Parisian Styles” but it takes the American women to wear them to the best advantage. Of course there are many pretty women in France but I prefer the Yankee girls myself.
My best regards to all my friends and lots of love to you. Hoping to hear from you again real soon and thanking you a thousand times for the tobacco, I am.
Yours,
Allan.
NOTES: Allan Barr Ross was born on April 1, 1891 in Dardanelle, Arkansas and died on February 11, 1961 in Phoenix, Arizona. He is buried in the Ft. Rosecrans National Cemetery in San Diego, California. He enlisted on May 26, 1917 and was discharged on September 15, 1919. He served as a Sergt. In the Regimental Supply Service, Co. D. Postal Express.
TRANSCRIBED BY LINDA MATTHEWS