TRANSCRIBED FROM THE NEWPORT DAILY INDEPENDENT JANUARY 30, 1919 P. 2
Berncastle, Germany,
December 14, 1918.
Mr. Ed Maxey, Tuckerman, Ark.
Dear Sir:
No doubt you will be surprised to receive a letter from this part of the world, but really I do not know whether you should be or not, for you know we have just about reached an age of the world when there is no longer any such thing as surprise.
Do you remember how we use to discuss the war question when I boarded with you? I’m sure you do, but listen, if I could see you now, I could tell you more about it than we ever dreamed of in those days. Sherman said a great truth when he said: “War is hell.” Of course it is not exactly hell, but it is the next thing to it. You know I am almost made to stop and wonder sometimes if hell is any worse. Then when I think of the description of hell given in the Bible, I know that war is only a foretaste. God knows I have a greater desire to shun hell now than I ever had in my life, since I have endured so many hardships and have seen and heard so many things which were heart rending.
It would be needless for me to tell you anything about it in this letter, for I haven’t time and space to express myself so that it would cause you to realize the facts in the case. Perhaps the good Lord will permit me to come through your part of the country again sometime and then I’ll tell you all about it.
Do you remember the morning of the eleventh of November. I shall never forget the day, for I was on my way to the front lines, hiking along up the road, all weary and wornout with packs on our backs, marching like dumb animals, yes like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearer is dumb so we were marching on into the very jaws of death. But suddenly the firing from the rifles and the roar from the cannons ceased, and the good news reached us that the armistice had been signed. Now, you can imagine how we felt, when our ears could no longer hear the roaring from the guns, which told us that the news must be true. No I’m sure you can not, for words are insufficient to express the extacy and the joy which thrilled our hearts.
Well, how is everything down there? Tell Mrs. Maxey I’d like to see her smile once more. Wish she knew how much I’d enjoy eating some of her cooking now, if I only had a chance.
How are Mr. Williamson’s folks? Tell them all hello for me. I wonder if Ernest and Owen are still living?
If you answer this address me at Grange, Arkansas.
Your friend,
Marvin Sullivan.
NOTES: Sullivan is writing to his friend Mr. Ed. Maxey.
TRANSCRIBED BY LINDA MATTHEWS
Berncastle, Germany,
December 14, 1918.
Mr. Ed Maxey, Tuckerman, Ark.
Dear Sir:
No doubt you will be surprised to receive a letter from this part of the world, but really I do not know whether you should be or not, for you know we have just about reached an age of the world when there is no longer any such thing as surprise.
Do you remember how we use to discuss the war question when I boarded with you? I’m sure you do, but listen, if I could see you now, I could tell you more about it than we ever dreamed of in those days. Sherman said a great truth when he said: “War is hell.” Of course it is not exactly hell, but it is the next thing to it. You know I am almost made to stop and wonder sometimes if hell is any worse. Then when I think of the description of hell given in the Bible, I know that war is only a foretaste. God knows I have a greater desire to shun hell now than I ever had in my life, since I have endured so many hardships and have seen and heard so many things which were heart rending.
It would be needless for me to tell you anything about it in this letter, for I haven’t time and space to express myself so that it would cause you to realize the facts in the case. Perhaps the good Lord will permit me to come through your part of the country again sometime and then I’ll tell you all about it.
Do you remember the morning of the eleventh of November. I shall never forget the day, for I was on my way to the front lines, hiking along up the road, all weary and wornout with packs on our backs, marching like dumb animals, yes like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearer is dumb so we were marching on into the very jaws of death. But suddenly the firing from the rifles and the roar from the cannons ceased, and the good news reached us that the armistice had been signed. Now, you can imagine how we felt, when our ears could no longer hear the roaring from the guns, which told us that the news must be true. No I’m sure you can not, for words are insufficient to express the extacy and the joy which thrilled our hearts.
Well, how is everything down there? Tell Mrs. Maxey I’d like to see her smile once more. Wish she knew how much I’d enjoy eating some of her cooking now, if I only had a chance.
How are Mr. Williamson’s folks? Tell them all hello for me. I wonder if Ernest and Owen are still living?
If you answer this address me at Grange, Arkansas.
Your friend,
Marvin Sullivan.
NOTES: Sullivan is writing to his friend Mr. Ed. Maxey.
TRANSCRIBED BY LINDA MATTHEWS