TRANSCRIBED FROM THE NEWPORT DAILY INDEPENDENT FEBRUARY 2, 1918 P. 2
Christmas Morning, 1917.
Somewhere in France.
Dear Father, Mother, Sister and Brothers:
I am writing this in my bunkhouse with my suitcase on my knee, and find that although it is Christmas I haven't any feelings different from any other day. I am very well contented, however, as your letters came in last night and in that way I can supremely fortunate compared to some less lucky brethren.
Last Sunday, that is, the 23rd, I went to Mass in a wonderful Cathedral that was built almost a thousand years ago. The stone altar railing was worn down three inches in places where the communcants had been placing their arms for nine centuries, and a painting in front of a side altar was in that same spot when Louis XIV was king.
The ceremony of mass, of course, is exactly the same, but there are no benches in the church. Only cane bottom chairs, and everyone stands instead of kneeling, even at the elevation. When the plate was passed for the collection a dignified personage with an immense scarlet sash and a three-cornered hat, carrying an enormous baton in his hand, walked in front of the collector and turned rouind and faced back down the aisle at every intersection. The one thing that impressed me most in church was the number of soldiers. Almost half were in uniform, from the cripples back from the front to the high officers in all their panoply of gold braid. And in every row there were sure to be a few women sobbing and sometimes a man also. There is a mass being said continually in every church from 6 o’clock in the morning until noon and every one is crowded; mostly with persons who are praying for some one who had died in the war. Last night a midnight Mass was celebrated in every altar in France, but I was unable to attend any one of them, as my liberty expired Sunday evening. In the cathedral I referred to above, the Grand Opera Company will sing the midnight Mass. I would give anything to hear it but the regulations of war time are unchangeable.
I saw a woman in the city yesterday with both her hands chopped off at the wrists. I don't know how it happened but it was certainly pitiful, but there is so much of that in France that it doesn't attract much attention.
I also went to a large department store and saw the toys for Christmastide. There were a throng of kiddies around each booth but the sales were few, and the buyers seemed to think that everything they bought was sacrilege, if it caused any mirth. If the people at home spend only a day in France and see what effect three years of war has on a nation, that is naturally pleasure-loving, like the French, they would realize that to be an American is the greatest and most fortunate thing on earth. If the war should last another three years I hope that the misery which is here will be spared America. But even as bad as it is here, it is necessarily worse in Germany. I dont think that any one is suffering from hunger in France, but in Germany there is no doubt of it. My Christmas is as pleasant as I have any right to expect, and I know that yours at home is also. In a few hours we will sit down to a regular army dinner: chicken, cold pork, and all the regular prerequisites of the holiday. Last night there were two Christmas trees in the mess hall, and everyone got two packages of Bull Durham, 5 apples, a sack of figs, and a bowl of nuts. So you see that our hardships are mostly imaginary.
There is some wonderful statuary in the museums here and as for paintings, the churches are full of them. Not copies, like we see in America, but the originals, painted hundreds of years ago. I saw “The Crucifixion,” by Rubens yesterday. If I can manage I’m going to bring home a bust of “Joanne D’Arc.” She is very popular here at present and all the sculps are sculpting her.
About the worst inconvenience we are put to over here is the course system of meals. First comes soup, then fish, then meat, then salad, then cheese and nuts, and then coffee, and a different plate for every course. A person must be willing to spend an hour over his dinner if he enters a restaurant. The charges are about 60 cents for a good dinner with a bottle of wine. The wine over here is only about as strong as strawberry soda and that is all one has to drink at meals.
If you could know how much I appreciate your letters you’d write often. Some of the boys have not received letters since they landed and no amount of Christmas cheer can make up for that absence. I am still getting the “Gazette” forwarded from Pensacola. It is about 6 weeks old when it reaches me, but it bears “Arkansas” on the front, therefore it is doubly welcome.
It is raining outside, just a little drizzle but enough to make things wet. Im going to warm my hands now and fall in for chow.
With love to all, I am your son and brother,
Leo Sellmeyer
U.S. Naval Aero Service, 5 place D
Jena, Paris, France
NOTES: Leo was the son of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Sellmeyer of Knobel, Arkansas in Clay County. He formerly lived in Newport, Arkansas and was employed by the Lesser-Goldman Cotton Company.
TRANSCRIBED BY ISAAC WOLTER
Christmas Morning, 1917.
Somewhere in France.
Dear Father, Mother, Sister and Brothers:
I am writing this in my bunkhouse with my suitcase on my knee, and find that although it is Christmas I haven't any feelings different from any other day. I am very well contented, however, as your letters came in last night and in that way I can supremely fortunate compared to some less lucky brethren.
Last Sunday, that is, the 23rd, I went to Mass in a wonderful Cathedral that was built almost a thousand years ago. The stone altar railing was worn down three inches in places where the communcants had been placing their arms for nine centuries, and a painting in front of a side altar was in that same spot when Louis XIV was king.
The ceremony of mass, of course, is exactly the same, but there are no benches in the church. Only cane bottom chairs, and everyone stands instead of kneeling, even at the elevation. When the plate was passed for the collection a dignified personage with an immense scarlet sash and a three-cornered hat, carrying an enormous baton in his hand, walked in front of the collector and turned rouind and faced back down the aisle at every intersection. The one thing that impressed me most in church was the number of soldiers. Almost half were in uniform, from the cripples back from the front to the high officers in all their panoply of gold braid. And in every row there were sure to be a few women sobbing and sometimes a man also. There is a mass being said continually in every church from 6 o’clock in the morning until noon and every one is crowded; mostly with persons who are praying for some one who had died in the war. Last night a midnight Mass was celebrated in every altar in France, but I was unable to attend any one of them, as my liberty expired Sunday evening. In the cathedral I referred to above, the Grand Opera Company will sing the midnight Mass. I would give anything to hear it but the regulations of war time are unchangeable.
I saw a woman in the city yesterday with both her hands chopped off at the wrists. I don't know how it happened but it was certainly pitiful, but there is so much of that in France that it doesn't attract much attention.
I also went to a large department store and saw the toys for Christmastide. There were a throng of kiddies around each booth but the sales were few, and the buyers seemed to think that everything they bought was sacrilege, if it caused any mirth. If the people at home spend only a day in France and see what effect three years of war has on a nation, that is naturally pleasure-loving, like the French, they would realize that to be an American is the greatest and most fortunate thing on earth. If the war should last another three years I hope that the misery which is here will be spared America. But even as bad as it is here, it is necessarily worse in Germany. I dont think that any one is suffering from hunger in France, but in Germany there is no doubt of it. My Christmas is as pleasant as I have any right to expect, and I know that yours at home is also. In a few hours we will sit down to a regular army dinner: chicken, cold pork, and all the regular prerequisites of the holiday. Last night there were two Christmas trees in the mess hall, and everyone got two packages of Bull Durham, 5 apples, a sack of figs, and a bowl of nuts. So you see that our hardships are mostly imaginary.
There is some wonderful statuary in the museums here and as for paintings, the churches are full of them. Not copies, like we see in America, but the originals, painted hundreds of years ago. I saw “The Crucifixion,” by Rubens yesterday. If I can manage I’m going to bring home a bust of “Joanne D’Arc.” She is very popular here at present and all the sculps are sculpting her.
About the worst inconvenience we are put to over here is the course system of meals. First comes soup, then fish, then meat, then salad, then cheese and nuts, and then coffee, and a different plate for every course. A person must be willing to spend an hour over his dinner if he enters a restaurant. The charges are about 60 cents for a good dinner with a bottle of wine. The wine over here is only about as strong as strawberry soda and that is all one has to drink at meals.
If you could know how much I appreciate your letters you’d write often. Some of the boys have not received letters since they landed and no amount of Christmas cheer can make up for that absence. I am still getting the “Gazette” forwarded from Pensacola. It is about 6 weeks old when it reaches me, but it bears “Arkansas” on the front, therefore it is doubly welcome.
It is raining outside, just a little drizzle but enough to make things wet. Im going to warm my hands now and fall in for chow.
With love to all, I am your son and brother,
Leo Sellmeyer
U.S. Naval Aero Service, 5 place D
Jena, Paris, France
NOTES: Leo was the son of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Sellmeyer of Knobel, Arkansas in Clay County. He formerly lived in Newport, Arkansas and was employed by the Lesser-Goldman Cotton Company.
TRANSCRIBED BY ISAAC WOLTER