TRANSCRIBED FROM THE VAN BUREN COUNTY DEMOCRAT OCTOBER 25, 1918 P. 2
Somewhere in France
It was in the month of January of this year, under the shadows of the evening, when, after many little incidents full of excitement, such as storms, rescuing survivors of sinking vessels and last but not least, encounters with German submarines, that I looked first upon the shores of the little nation which has perhaps played the most gallant part of any of the nations now engaged in this World War. I had stood the voyage of seventeen days splendidly, had maintained a normal appetite throughout, due to excellent health, though let me here say that voyaging is never too pleasant in January, and especially it is anything but pleasing to have the thought of having to "Swim for it" confront you while trying to go to sleep at night, while the old "Tub" is rolling like a Montana "Bronco."
For four days prior to reaching land all hands had been compelled, by orders of the Commander of the Convoy, to wear life belts at all times, which meant that, in addition to one's clothing, it was necessary to sleep with "harness" on, and just at the time when life belts had been discarded (For we had been informed that land was near) there was suddenly a sputtering noise on our port bow, and those curious floating objects which had been following us now for the past five days began to maneuvre in all sorts of ways, and everyone on deck was ordered to his bunk below.
After it had all been over for perhaps five minutes (it seemed an hour) we were again allowed to go on deck, and I was confidentially advised that two submarines had been accounted for. It may be added that these same little ships--Destroyers--with the many others of our own and the Allied Nations, have been, and are now, making it possible, and comparatively safe, for the transportation of a constant stream of troops and supplies from America to France and other nations where contingents of American troops are operating, even to the complete chagrin of Kaiser Bill.
Soon after the little encounter mentioned above, the convoy was divided and some of the troop ships proceeded to one port and the remainder to another, and the little "sea devils" turned about and proceeded back to sea in quest of more danger. Truly we are to honor alike the "bronco buster" and the sailor on the sea-going Destroyers.
The old vessel upon which my trip over was made is one of the many German vessels taken over by our government, and is built to withstand many hardships, having thirteen distinct and compact compartments. After being towed by tugs for, it seemed hours, we finally pulled alongside a pier and many, many little boys and girls crowded along it; and, even though one had only been away from boys and girls and "stationery objects" for seventeen days, these things now looked pleasing if not quite natural to all, and many of the 6,500 officers and men stayed on deck until the late hours, tossing coins to those kiddies on shore, and from the constant clatter, I am sure that many perfectly sound American dollars changed hands.
After many changes and much traveling about, I was finally settled, where I have since remained, my duties being Quartermaster of the Advance Remount Depot and in addition I am a disbursing officer, sometimes disbursing $165,000.00 per month, in addition to my other work. I have traveled a great deal in France, and will mention a few of the chief points of difference in the characteristics of French and American people.
First of all, the French man or French woman has the same beating heart, with the same dream of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness as those sturdy pioneers who came to and settled and made of America the home, the splendid country of which you and I quite properly boast today.
The French mother has the same serious apprehensions for her boy or her girl as the American mother, and her heart is just as heavy when her next boy, perhaps the last one she has left, has reached the age to be eligible for military service and is called away, and nearly five years of such life has made of her a wonderful example of self-sacrifice and devotion.
As I write, the youngsters of the village in which I am situated are parading in front of my office. They have been called and, though a few look physically unfit, none are sad, but all alike are gay and the affair takes on the aspect of our American picnic.
There is one point, which perhaps will interest country folk more than all others--the fact that people all live in little hamlets or villages, and seldom, if ever, do you find a farmer living on his farm, but one can many times see as many as eight villages from a single point. The selection for the site of these villages has been such as to permit of obtaining water pressure by means of damming the small streamlets, and in each village there is a public watering trough, perhaps many, for animals, and a public wash place for the inhabitants. Clothes are seldom boiled but are soaked in water, laid flat on stones, well soaped and scrubbed with a brush. The tub and wash board is never seen.
The dwelling house is one big structure with many compartments, the best of which are for the family, and there is also a large compartment reserved for a shop or store, and the remaining rooms are for the horse, the cow, the pigs and the chickens, but all are kept very clean, and, verily, one must enter the house of the Frenchman to thoroughly appreciate its comforts.
The average American home is a wonder from the outside, but is, in many instances, not well planned and whatever gardens he reserves will be in front of his house, while a Frenchman usually has a wall all around his house and gardens, and it is impossible to appreciate his beautiful gardens until you enter his house and go through it to the back, where you will find the most beautiful of gardens, with shady nooks and rustic seats, all so inviting that you are often seated and trying to talk to the fellow before you know it. Even in the French home smattering of poverty, you will find a suggestion of comfort in the house, and always you will see the entire family with clothes well brushed and shoes polished, on Sunday leisurely promenading, and on the whole it appeals to you that he gets out of life everything it possibly holds for him.
Having never visited France prior to the war, it is difficult to draw a comparison between normal conditions and those which exist today, though in many villages, even within ten miles from the front, one would hardly think the country was at war, except that almost everyone wears black, and there is a noticeable absence of dancing. Even though they wear mourning on their backs, they smile with their faces, just as if things were normal.
I do not especially invite Van Buren countians to war, or to France, where for the past four years war has been "made to order" because recent laws have dispensed with a good many such formalities as the "invitation," but after giving thirteen of the very best years of my life to the Government, as a soldier, it is encouraging to know that many of the young men of Van Buren county are to become real makers of American history, and while there may be some--the very minimum, I hope--who will not return, I am sure that those who do return will be an inspiration to their fellows and the experience gained will compensate for all the anxiety suffered by fathers and mothers while they were gone.
It is certain that all who survive will have ample of which to be proud, chief among which will be the assurance that our nation will emerge from the struggle stronger than ever in its history, perhaps the strongest of all the nations. When we review our condition, our very pitiable condition, from a military point of view, at the outset of this war, and even consider our achievements toward this aim to the present time, there can remain no doubt in our minds, and this achievement can be readily accepted as a suitable reward for our enormous expenditure in life and wealth.
With reference to myself, and in self defense, I may say that my duties consist of those mentioned above, and supplying the army with horses and mules, and receiving and treating sick and wounded animals from the front, when it is necessary to evacuate them. I am not a combatant officer; I have never been in the trenches except to visit, and then only on comparatively quiet sectors. I say this because there may be some who may accuse me of suffering all kinds of hardships and war time deprivations, and goodness knows I have never been guilty of either.
As a remedy for "blues" it is suggested that all Van Buren countians keep posted on war news. It is particularly good now-a-days and it is hoped will continue to be wholesome, healthful, hopeful and promising for the allied cause until it is fittingly finished. I am going to stay until then, though I am not exactly satisfied, but am planning on dinner with wife and children on Xmas, 1920, and really I expect to stay after many have gone, because with the French dinner, wine is served instead of water and I do like these French dinners.
Just now I am perfectly healthy, almost happy, and not overworked, and am nearly fifty miles behind the firing line (You see the LINE moves occasionally of late, and each time it gets a little closer to Germany) and all the time I have been, and am now, thinking, thinking often, of the folks back home, and they each and all have my sincere regards.
These lines are offered, not in an effort to worm my name before the public eye, but as a means of saying "Hello" to all in one breath, and to appease the curiosity common to all gentle country folk. I should be glad of another opportunity of visiting Van Buren county through the medium of this little paper. Until such time as this opportunity arrives, I bid you a very kind "Au Revoir."
THOMAS E. SWAIN,
Captain, Quartermaster Corps, U.S. Army.
NOTES: This letter was written by Thomas Elmore Swain. He had been serving in the army for thirteen years at the the time he wrote this letter. He was born on August 8, 1884 in Van Buren County, Arkansas and died on July 2, 1945. He is buried in the Fort Smith National Cemetery in Fort Smith, Arkansas. His military headstone identifies him as a Arkansas Captain serving in the US Army.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
Somewhere in France
It was in the month of January of this year, under the shadows of the evening, when, after many little incidents full of excitement, such as storms, rescuing survivors of sinking vessels and last but not least, encounters with German submarines, that I looked first upon the shores of the little nation which has perhaps played the most gallant part of any of the nations now engaged in this World War. I had stood the voyage of seventeen days splendidly, had maintained a normal appetite throughout, due to excellent health, though let me here say that voyaging is never too pleasant in January, and especially it is anything but pleasing to have the thought of having to "Swim for it" confront you while trying to go to sleep at night, while the old "Tub" is rolling like a Montana "Bronco."
For four days prior to reaching land all hands had been compelled, by orders of the Commander of the Convoy, to wear life belts at all times, which meant that, in addition to one's clothing, it was necessary to sleep with "harness" on, and just at the time when life belts had been discarded (For we had been informed that land was near) there was suddenly a sputtering noise on our port bow, and those curious floating objects which had been following us now for the past five days began to maneuvre in all sorts of ways, and everyone on deck was ordered to his bunk below.
After it had all been over for perhaps five minutes (it seemed an hour) we were again allowed to go on deck, and I was confidentially advised that two submarines had been accounted for. It may be added that these same little ships--Destroyers--with the many others of our own and the Allied Nations, have been, and are now, making it possible, and comparatively safe, for the transportation of a constant stream of troops and supplies from America to France and other nations where contingents of American troops are operating, even to the complete chagrin of Kaiser Bill.
Soon after the little encounter mentioned above, the convoy was divided and some of the troop ships proceeded to one port and the remainder to another, and the little "sea devils" turned about and proceeded back to sea in quest of more danger. Truly we are to honor alike the "bronco buster" and the sailor on the sea-going Destroyers.
The old vessel upon which my trip over was made is one of the many German vessels taken over by our government, and is built to withstand many hardships, having thirteen distinct and compact compartments. After being towed by tugs for, it seemed hours, we finally pulled alongside a pier and many, many little boys and girls crowded along it; and, even though one had only been away from boys and girls and "stationery objects" for seventeen days, these things now looked pleasing if not quite natural to all, and many of the 6,500 officers and men stayed on deck until the late hours, tossing coins to those kiddies on shore, and from the constant clatter, I am sure that many perfectly sound American dollars changed hands.
After many changes and much traveling about, I was finally settled, where I have since remained, my duties being Quartermaster of the Advance Remount Depot and in addition I am a disbursing officer, sometimes disbursing $165,000.00 per month, in addition to my other work. I have traveled a great deal in France, and will mention a few of the chief points of difference in the characteristics of French and American people.
First of all, the French man or French woman has the same beating heart, with the same dream of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness as those sturdy pioneers who came to and settled and made of America the home, the splendid country of which you and I quite properly boast today.
The French mother has the same serious apprehensions for her boy or her girl as the American mother, and her heart is just as heavy when her next boy, perhaps the last one she has left, has reached the age to be eligible for military service and is called away, and nearly five years of such life has made of her a wonderful example of self-sacrifice and devotion.
As I write, the youngsters of the village in which I am situated are parading in front of my office. They have been called and, though a few look physically unfit, none are sad, but all alike are gay and the affair takes on the aspect of our American picnic.
There is one point, which perhaps will interest country folk more than all others--the fact that people all live in little hamlets or villages, and seldom, if ever, do you find a farmer living on his farm, but one can many times see as many as eight villages from a single point. The selection for the site of these villages has been such as to permit of obtaining water pressure by means of damming the small streamlets, and in each village there is a public watering trough, perhaps many, for animals, and a public wash place for the inhabitants. Clothes are seldom boiled but are soaked in water, laid flat on stones, well soaped and scrubbed with a brush. The tub and wash board is never seen.
The dwelling house is one big structure with many compartments, the best of which are for the family, and there is also a large compartment reserved for a shop or store, and the remaining rooms are for the horse, the cow, the pigs and the chickens, but all are kept very clean, and, verily, one must enter the house of the Frenchman to thoroughly appreciate its comforts.
The average American home is a wonder from the outside, but is, in many instances, not well planned and whatever gardens he reserves will be in front of his house, while a Frenchman usually has a wall all around his house and gardens, and it is impossible to appreciate his beautiful gardens until you enter his house and go through it to the back, where you will find the most beautiful of gardens, with shady nooks and rustic seats, all so inviting that you are often seated and trying to talk to the fellow before you know it. Even in the French home smattering of poverty, you will find a suggestion of comfort in the house, and always you will see the entire family with clothes well brushed and shoes polished, on Sunday leisurely promenading, and on the whole it appeals to you that he gets out of life everything it possibly holds for him.
Having never visited France prior to the war, it is difficult to draw a comparison between normal conditions and those which exist today, though in many villages, even within ten miles from the front, one would hardly think the country was at war, except that almost everyone wears black, and there is a noticeable absence of dancing. Even though they wear mourning on their backs, they smile with their faces, just as if things were normal.
I do not especially invite Van Buren countians to war, or to France, where for the past four years war has been "made to order" because recent laws have dispensed with a good many such formalities as the "invitation," but after giving thirteen of the very best years of my life to the Government, as a soldier, it is encouraging to know that many of the young men of Van Buren county are to become real makers of American history, and while there may be some--the very minimum, I hope--who will not return, I am sure that those who do return will be an inspiration to their fellows and the experience gained will compensate for all the anxiety suffered by fathers and mothers while they were gone.
It is certain that all who survive will have ample of which to be proud, chief among which will be the assurance that our nation will emerge from the struggle stronger than ever in its history, perhaps the strongest of all the nations. When we review our condition, our very pitiable condition, from a military point of view, at the outset of this war, and even consider our achievements toward this aim to the present time, there can remain no doubt in our minds, and this achievement can be readily accepted as a suitable reward for our enormous expenditure in life and wealth.
With reference to myself, and in self defense, I may say that my duties consist of those mentioned above, and supplying the army with horses and mules, and receiving and treating sick and wounded animals from the front, when it is necessary to evacuate them. I am not a combatant officer; I have never been in the trenches except to visit, and then only on comparatively quiet sectors. I say this because there may be some who may accuse me of suffering all kinds of hardships and war time deprivations, and goodness knows I have never been guilty of either.
As a remedy for "blues" it is suggested that all Van Buren countians keep posted on war news. It is particularly good now-a-days and it is hoped will continue to be wholesome, healthful, hopeful and promising for the allied cause until it is fittingly finished. I am going to stay until then, though I am not exactly satisfied, but am planning on dinner with wife and children on Xmas, 1920, and really I expect to stay after many have gone, because with the French dinner, wine is served instead of water and I do like these French dinners.
Just now I am perfectly healthy, almost happy, and not overworked, and am nearly fifty miles behind the firing line (You see the LINE moves occasionally of late, and each time it gets a little closer to Germany) and all the time I have been, and am now, thinking, thinking often, of the folks back home, and they each and all have my sincere regards.
These lines are offered, not in an effort to worm my name before the public eye, but as a means of saying "Hello" to all in one breath, and to appease the curiosity common to all gentle country folk. I should be glad of another opportunity of visiting Van Buren county through the medium of this little paper. Until such time as this opportunity arrives, I bid you a very kind "Au Revoir."
THOMAS E. SWAIN,
Captain, Quartermaster Corps, U.S. Army.
NOTES: This letter was written by Thomas Elmore Swain. He had been serving in the army for thirteen years at the the time he wrote this letter. He was born on August 8, 1884 in Van Buren County, Arkansas and died on July 2, 1945. He is buried in the Fort Smith National Cemetery in Fort Smith, Arkansas. His military headstone identifies him as a Arkansas Captain serving in the US Army.
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD