TRANSCRIBED FROM THE DAILY ARKANSAS GAZETTE NOVEMBER 4, 1918 P. 3
After several days of severe contact with the enemy and dodging his rain of metal, although somewhat fatigued, I am going to write you a few lines concerning it, as we now are a few miles from the line, taking a needed rest.
We were held in reserve on the Saint Mihiel drive, but took part in the biggest offensive ever pulled on this or any front. Our lads went over with a rush and courage galore; but we paid, and the cost was pretty high. But we dented him where the allies heretofore failed to dent him. We fought on a world-known battlefield and gained. We lost one of the finest lads in our section in the first five hours of the battle, and he fell not six feet from me; and is buried overlooking a stronghold heretofore uncaptured; but now under our command.
Fritz lays down one hell of a barrage, I can tell you, there were snipers every place. Machine guns are his chief weapon, and he knows now to use them. That battle field was like the doors of hell, and men went mad. We were just in advance of the barage, and keeping touch of the lads ahead; and take it from John, we had some job. After five days of it, and completely exhausted, I crawled into quarters. I had lost weight and my clothes were in rags. At present I am recuperating. Many of my friends are asleep never to rise again. God rest their souls.
I will tell you more when I come home. It is very hard to write though, as the scenes still swirl through my brain, and I rave in my sleep. I received your letter of August 19, and was sure glad to get it. I got all kinds of mail in those days of battle, and you can imagine me reading them in that inferno and shells screeching overhead.
Many little incidents of amusement occur during a battle. Men go crazy from gas and ask all kinds of questions. And such funny things run through your mind, such as a shell trying to find you and you ducking. Something like this will go through your brain: “I wish I had picked up that canned Willy and brought it along.” Or you happen to wonder who will pick you up if you are wounded.
This country here reminds me of home, and I’m trying my best to get rested up and able to hit the contact line as soon as possible.
NOTES: John Wesley Sandy was writing to his father, James T. Sandy. His father was the civilian employee Camp Pike Meat Inspector. Sandy was born May 31, 1896 in Missouri and died on May 25, 1922 in Independence, Kansas, of gangrenous appendicitis. He is buried in the Mount Hope Cemetery in Kansas City, Kansas. His gravestone is shared with his brother Fredrick G. Sandy who died in action in France. Sept. 30, 1818.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
After several days of severe contact with the enemy and dodging his rain of metal, although somewhat fatigued, I am going to write you a few lines concerning it, as we now are a few miles from the line, taking a needed rest.
We were held in reserve on the Saint Mihiel drive, but took part in the biggest offensive ever pulled on this or any front. Our lads went over with a rush and courage galore; but we paid, and the cost was pretty high. But we dented him where the allies heretofore failed to dent him. We fought on a world-known battlefield and gained. We lost one of the finest lads in our section in the first five hours of the battle, and he fell not six feet from me; and is buried overlooking a stronghold heretofore uncaptured; but now under our command.
Fritz lays down one hell of a barrage, I can tell you, there were snipers every place. Machine guns are his chief weapon, and he knows now to use them. That battle field was like the doors of hell, and men went mad. We were just in advance of the barage, and keeping touch of the lads ahead; and take it from John, we had some job. After five days of it, and completely exhausted, I crawled into quarters. I had lost weight and my clothes were in rags. At present I am recuperating. Many of my friends are asleep never to rise again. God rest their souls.
I will tell you more when I come home. It is very hard to write though, as the scenes still swirl through my brain, and I rave in my sleep. I received your letter of August 19, and was sure glad to get it. I got all kinds of mail in those days of battle, and you can imagine me reading them in that inferno and shells screeching overhead.
Many little incidents of amusement occur during a battle. Men go crazy from gas and ask all kinds of questions. And such funny things run through your mind, such as a shell trying to find you and you ducking. Something like this will go through your brain: “I wish I had picked up that canned Willy and brought it along.” Or you happen to wonder who will pick you up if you are wounded.
This country here reminds me of home, and I’m trying my best to get rested up and able to hit the contact line as soon as possible.
NOTES: John Wesley Sandy was writing to his father, James T. Sandy. His father was the civilian employee Camp Pike Meat Inspector. Sandy was born May 31, 1896 in Missouri and died on May 25, 1922 in Independence, Kansas, of gangrenous appendicitis. He is buried in the Mount Hope Cemetery in Kansas City, Kansas. His gravestone is shared with his brother Fredrick G. Sandy who died in action in France. Sept. 30, 1818.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT