TRANSCRIBED FROM THE ARKANSAS GAZETTE MARCH 7, 1919 P. 14
Yes, it seems wonderful to think the horrible war is over. While the armistice came a bit earlier than the optimistic of us expected, it was none the less welcomed. I only hope we get the job thoroughly completed, but am just a wee bit afraid that there is nasty work yet to be done. I’ll tell you, Mase, a person who was not in the last big scrap can never have any conception of what our boys went through up there-went through (some did not go all the way) with a song and a smile and a determination to have the old war over. You no doubt have heard the slogan, “Heaven, hell, and Hoboken.” Well, that was their spirit, and that spirit was what whipped the Boches. It was not my lot to get into the “big game,” although I have been in uniform practically two and a half years, and almost all of our men managed to have an inning or two. I missed once chance by being up at one of the large corps schools, and again when the armistice caught me, being held awaiting orders within a stone’s throw of the railway station. During September, I had a job of convoying a detachment of replacements up to just behind the lines, where they went into action a few days later in the historic drive of that month. Never did I see such eager men or men of such determined spirit. I have seen the undauntable “doughboys” plugging into the lines with their back-breaking packs, through mud and rain, but regardless of bodily discomforts. They never lost their smiles, nor forgot their songs, but plugged along, taking what came and only “cussed” Fritz because he was the source of all their hardships.
“Canned ‘willie’ and iron bread (hardtack) was like a continued story, but so long as they got hot coffee or hot “slum” everyone was merry. Can you imagine how I felt when taking those old boys from our own batteries, many of whom I had grown quite attached to, right up under the guns and turning them over to an absolutely strange outfit? It was all too much like showing them where the big scrap was going to be and then finding business elsewhere. A number of these very men have drifted back through here with various companies and invariably wearing that badge of service of which they have just cause to feel proud-one or more wound chevrons. Others, no doubt, stayed up there, but I’m sure of one thing, and that is that their smiles and fixed jaws stayed too.
I think of and admire the folks at home for the liberal manner in which they gave to the various war causes-Red Cross, Y. M. C. A., Liberty Bonds, etc., but in my own mind I feel that they have only begun, as great as their donations were. In buying bonds, giving to the Red Cross, etc., the people were giving back to themselves, for was it not to protect them that they were giving-a sort of life insurance? Those boys who have either gotten in the real fight or were slated for it were fated for hll on earth. I said that no one who was not in the game had any conception of what it was like. And they haven’t. When the boys come home is the time for the people to show them in what estimation they are held. Give them noise, parades, etc., but also see that they get things more material, all of which they will want and are rightly due. It is going to be a big job and the people must be tolerant of the soldier. They cannot expect too much of them for a while. Support legislative matters in his behalf and the big land deal of the secretary of the interior. Give him the moon if he wants it for it is the solder’s due, and besides Edison can make us another one. That admirable war slogan, “Give until it hurts,” should be carried right along when the boys come home.
In thinking of the Little Rock boys who have played a conspicuous part in this old war, I want to mention one in particular, Capt. Randall M. Falk of the 125th Infantry, 32nd Division. Captain Falk, who is still just a youngster in years, was born and raised in Little Rock. He entered the war without any previous military training, entered the first training camp at Fort Roots, and came out a second lieutenant. He was assigned to the 32nd Division, which came over in the early part of the war, and has participated in practically every bit of the fighting since the Americans got into the game. The division has been repeatedly thinned out by casualties and refilled, and has, so I have been told, the distinction of being the only United States division to regain ground given up to obtain their objectives.
Young Falk has held almost every, if not every, important post in his regiment-gas officer, adjutant, intelligence officer, liason officer, etc., -and won the promotion to first lieutenant and later to captain. Such an exceptional and admirable record is something of which to feel proud but to receive it in one of the divisions in the service adds doubly to the honor. He, in my humble estimation, is Little Rock’s best product in this war.
Remember me kindly to all my old friends, and if your boy makes Brest again, tell him to look me up at Camp Pontenezen, 9-A, as I am now running a first rate “hash house,” with a capacity of 6,000 men per meal, feeding the men homeward bound. Expect to be here six or eight months at least, unless something turns up unexpectedly.
NOTES: This is a partial letter written on January 27, 1919 by Lieutenant Fred B. Smith to Sidney W. Mase. Smith was in the 153rd Infantry. He was born February 28, 1889. He died September 13, 1960 and is buried in Roselawn Cemetery at Little Rock, Arkansas. His military headstone identifies him as a First Lieut. In the 153rd Infantry.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT
Yes, it seems wonderful to think the horrible war is over. While the armistice came a bit earlier than the optimistic of us expected, it was none the less welcomed. I only hope we get the job thoroughly completed, but am just a wee bit afraid that there is nasty work yet to be done. I’ll tell you, Mase, a person who was not in the last big scrap can never have any conception of what our boys went through up there-went through (some did not go all the way) with a song and a smile and a determination to have the old war over. You no doubt have heard the slogan, “Heaven, hell, and Hoboken.” Well, that was their spirit, and that spirit was what whipped the Boches. It was not my lot to get into the “big game,” although I have been in uniform practically two and a half years, and almost all of our men managed to have an inning or two. I missed once chance by being up at one of the large corps schools, and again when the armistice caught me, being held awaiting orders within a stone’s throw of the railway station. During September, I had a job of convoying a detachment of replacements up to just behind the lines, where they went into action a few days later in the historic drive of that month. Never did I see such eager men or men of such determined spirit. I have seen the undauntable “doughboys” plugging into the lines with their back-breaking packs, through mud and rain, but regardless of bodily discomforts. They never lost their smiles, nor forgot their songs, but plugged along, taking what came and only “cussed” Fritz because he was the source of all their hardships.
“Canned ‘willie’ and iron bread (hardtack) was like a continued story, but so long as they got hot coffee or hot “slum” everyone was merry. Can you imagine how I felt when taking those old boys from our own batteries, many of whom I had grown quite attached to, right up under the guns and turning them over to an absolutely strange outfit? It was all too much like showing them where the big scrap was going to be and then finding business elsewhere. A number of these very men have drifted back through here with various companies and invariably wearing that badge of service of which they have just cause to feel proud-one or more wound chevrons. Others, no doubt, stayed up there, but I’m sure of one thing, and that is that their smiles and fixed jaws stayed too.
I think of and admire the folks at home for the liberal manner in which they gave to the various war causes-Red Cross, Y. M. C. A., Liberty Bonds, etc., but in my own mind I feel that they have only begun, as great as their donations were. In buying bonds, giving to the Red Cross, etc., the people were giving back to themselves, for was it not to protect them that they were giving-a sort of life insurance? Those boys who have either gotten in the real fight or were slated for it were fated for hll on earth. I said that no one who was not in the game had any conception of what it was like. And they haven’t. When the boys come home is the time for the people to show them in what estimation they are held. Give them noise, parades, etc., but also see that they get things more material, all of which they will want and are rightly due. It is going to be a big job and the people must be tolerant of the soldier. They cannot expect too much of them for a while. Support legislative matters in his behalf and the big land deal of the secretary of the interior. Give him the moon if he wants it for it is the solder’s due, and besides Edison can make us another one. That admirable war slogan, “Give until it hurts,” should be carried right along when the boys come home.
In thinking of the Little Rock boys who have played a conspicuous part in this old war, I want to mention one in particular, Capt. Randall M. Falk of the 125th Infantry, 32nd Division. Captain Falk, who is still just a youngster in years, was born and raised in Little Rock. He entered the war without any previous military training, entered the first training camp at Fort Roots, and came out a second lieutenant. He was assigned to the 32nd Division, which came over in the early part of the war, and has participated in practically every bit of the fighting since the Americans got into the game. The division has been repeatedly thinned out by casualties and refilled, and has, so I have been told, the distinction of being the only United States division to regain ground given up to obtain their objectives.
Young Falk has held almost every, if not every, important post in his regiment-gas officer, adjutant, intelligence officer, liason officer, etc., -and won the promotion to first lieutenant and later to captain. Such an exceptional and admirable record is something of which to feel proud but to receive it in one of the divisions in the service adds doubly to the honor. He, in my humble estimation, is Little Rock’s best product in this war.
Remember me kindly to all my old friends, and if your boy makes Brest again, tell him to look me up at Camp Pontenezen, 9-A, as I am now running a first rate “hash house,” with a capacity of 6,000 men per meal, feeding the men homeward bound. Expect to be here six or eight months at least, unless something turns up unexpectedly.
NOTES: This is a partial letter written on January 27, 1919 by Lieutenant Fred B. Smith to Sidney W. Mase. Smith was in the 153rd Infantry. He was born February 28, 1889. He died September 13, 1960 and is buried in Roselawn Cemetery at Little Rock, Arkansas. His military headstone identifies him as a First Lieut. In the 153rd Infantry.
TRANSCRIBED BY CAROLYN YANCEY KENT