TRANSCRIBED FROM THE SENTINEL RECORD OCTOBER 24, 1918 P. 6
In France,
Sept. 30, 1918.
Dear Em and Turner:
Since leaving America I have had many experiences different from anything I ever experienced at home. I wrote you from near South Hampton, England, at a town known as Winchester. It was there that the Church of England was first established on a site now occupied by the handsomest cathedral in the world. I will not comment on its history as you are probably as familiar with it as I am. A part of the original church rating from the first century still remains. It was my pleasure to be shown through the building by one of the Elders—at least he was old enough to be so called.
I have since been in dear old France, a land quite as quaint as it has been pictured to me from childhood. As yet I am not near the front, but the next few days will probably see me on or near it.
From the landing place in France my company was first sent to a little town in the heart of the wine district of France, at a point not previously occupied by American troops. After a two weeks delightful stay, we were transported here. The length of our stay here is of course for those higher up to decide. I am ready to move with my organization any time on any notice, for by now I am never surprised at any move, and stay prepared.
Our treatment by the English was very nice, but somehow they are not as open and Frank as the French. They seem to be more of a haughty, egotistical people, while the French have received us with open hands and open hearts. When we landed here the demeanor of the people as compared with the English was noticeable. I really believe the French love the Americans better than the English, or any other nationality, and they have wonderful respect for our ability. Personally I love everything and everybody connected with this country next to the United States.
I was fortunate in crossing the ocean and the English Channel without sickness, particularly the latter, which is rough beyond comprehension. There were hundreds of soldiers crossed with us, and I am safe in saying that 90 per cent of them suffered from sea-sickness. In all my days I have never seen such a filthy spot as that boat when we landed. After landing we were taken to what they call a rest camp for several days. The “rest” part is all a joke, and I hope never to see another near a port. They are a nuisance. A jumping off place where troops are stationed awaiting transportation. Its only redeeming feature was its location near a large sea-port to which we had access.
I will not soon forget my first impression of France. We were met on our way from the boat, by two old gentlemen having beautiful manners, but limited English vocabulary, and they welcomed us with a short speech, beautiful, though in it was in characteristic French style. At the time we were presented with large bouquets of roses by the little school girls. The latter evidenced so plainly their friendship, and seemed delighted to accompany the troops.
Excuse any errors for I am writing while sitting on the floor of my tent and using the only home made chair for a table. We remained in the rest camp several days. Our departure took place at 2 a.m. one morning after a three mile hike in a downpour of rain to the station. On arrival we learned the troops would be loaded in box cars, which are hardly half the size of an American box car. Thirty five men to each car. Naturally they were packed like sardines, but I afterwards learned that forty men could be loaded into one of them. The officers were given regular passenger travel (such as it is) and we had room in which to sleep. We were nearly two days en route—almost as much time as traveling form Pike to Dix.
When I stop to consider the difference in the length of time it takes in traveling over here, I marvel at the superiority of our own country over this. We made one stop for coffee for forty minutes. Other stops of short duration, but only to take on water. The men’s rations were loaded in their cars, likewise the officers. It consisted chiefly of corned beef, beans, and bread. Fortunately I am a “demon” for any kind of food when hungry, (which is often) and ate the corned beef and hard tack with relish. Results show it for I am taking on pounds and getting fat. How the men slept in their compartments I don’t know. Personally I nearly froze to death without any cover except a rain coat, which fortunately I carried from Camp Dix, for all of my clothing except a handbag, including my trunk locker and bedding roll has been missed since leaving America, and I have travelled since only with a handbag and its contents which are limited. It at first contained an extra suit of underclothing, 2 pairs of socks, one pair of pajams, and a few toilet articles. Somehow I lost the underclothes and socks, and until a few days ago used the pajamas for a change of clothing. The pajamas were nearly worn out when I started and now are the picture of a sieve, but still seeing service, for it has been impossible to purchase clothing where we have been.
Our regiment has been separated nearly all the time. It was re-united a few days ago when I saw Bike Eisele for the first time in several weeks. He had gotten his locker and I borrowed all I wanted from him. About 2 p.m. the second day after departing the Batallion Commander told me he would detrain with two companies at some small town, and I would be in command of the remainder of the batallion, and would detrain at the next stop about ten miles away. The Bn. Com. hd an interpreter who went with him. When the station was reached I detrained with about 500 men and eight officers and food for one day.
I studied French in school, but nothing these people said could I comprehend. Not one familiar word wafted toward me so you can realize my helplessness, after the train left us in this small town with me unable to talk to any of the natives. I am certain they wanted to assist us but were as helpless as I was for lack of a common vocabulary. There I was with 500 men and officers. I had been told guides would show us to our billets, but thru some misunderstanding they were not present. It eventually occured to me that I had a private in my organization who said he could speak French. I considered this a good time to give him a “work-out.” It worked like a charm. Guides gladly volunteered to take us to our destination some eight miles away, a town named Salignac, about three miles from Cognac. Previous arrangements had been made for our coming, and as we were the first U.S. troops occupy this town or this part of France much excitement followed. The town was given to us, and the inhabitant would do anything in the world for our comfort.
Some arrangements had been made between the two governments whereby villages occupied by Americans are nearly under the latters control and so it was at Salignac. I made police regulations and ran the town insofar as it affected the troops. The people are very primitive here, still wearing wood shoes, and garb themselves in characteristic rural French costumes such as often seen in the pictures. The soldiers were scattered all over own in billets. By billets I mean mostly stables with straw on the floor. I was located at a place almost a castle, which until the war, was owned by a wealthy German wine dealer. He raised worlds of grapes and made excellent wine as I soon discovered. After war was declared it was learned that he was a Colonel in the German army and made his escape three days previous to the outbreak of war. He was active as a spy in France as a search of his effects disclosed he had everything pertaining to espionage.
The lack of men here is very noticeable as in all French towns. Those you see are either extremely old, or are wounded soldiers, and the women in the rural districts are nearly all been directly touched by this war. Foods are hard to obtain even tobacco is obtained by the natives with tickets something like obtaining sugar in the U.S., only much more difficult.
We are at Salignac a delightfu two weeks, with the exception of the fact that we had no tobacco. Te men were more or less disgruntled and dissatisfied over this. I went to Cognac, Saintes, and other places but could not buy any tobacco at all. Finally our supply company issued tobacco in very small quantities, but sufficient to satisfy. We are now getting all that we want, and I certainly hope it lasts. We left Salignac in another downpour of rain and loaded in box cars for here. Everybody wet and tired. On the tram overnight I again was cold, sleepy and tired and unable to rest. My experience to now teaches me that this is indeed a very inconvenient war. With plenty of work, and likewise plenty to eat, we all hated to leave Salignac. The beds of the officers were the best I have seen since leaving home. These French people always have good beds. Also I do not want to forget their drinks. Cognac is the center of the Cognac brandies, and the wine district of France. All the natives drink wine like we do water, and it is seldom one is seen under the influence of it, although it is sufficiently powerful to knock an American soldier flat on his back. Wine is produced everywhere here.
Cognac is a town of about 30,000 people. An American officer was a curosity there, and on my foraging the inhabitants would gaze at me like I was a curosity, but were as nice as they could be to me. I went through the Hennessey factory, a famous brandy in the U.S. The manager took me through from where the grapes enter to the finished product, and as a farewell gift presented me with a quart of the best brandy produced anywhere. Much better than 3 Star. We are now located near a large seaport on the coast. The men quartered in warehouses and the officers in tents. Our future is unknown but it looks like the regiment will be used around the docks for a short time only.
I have been detailed to attend school near the front lines, and understand that my work will be almost altogether in the front line trenches. Will leave here tomorrow sometime probably going through Paris. Please write me as often as you can as otherwise I will probably not hear anything from dear old Hot Springs. Until now I have not receive a letter from anyone, and only once in awhile a Paris edition of an American paper sifts down here. Consequently news of the outside world is very scarce. I could write you a book if not restricted by the censor but for the present will cease. Remember me to all of my friends. Will write you again soon unless restricted by being on the front lines.
Affectionately,
HARTLEY
NOTES: Edwin Hartley Wootton was born in Poolesville, Maryland on April 25, 1886 and died on September 18, 1946 in Hot Springs, Arkansas. He is buried in the Greenwood Cemetery in Hot Springs. He departed New York, NY on August 24, 1918 onboard the Ceramic. He was serving as a Captain in the 346th Infantry Co. D.
TRANSCRIBED BY MIKE POLSTON
In France,
Sept. 30, 1918.
Dear Em and Turner:
Since leaving America I have had many experiences different from anything I ever experienced at home. I wrote you from near South Hampton, England, at a town known as Winchester. It was there that the Church of England was first established on a site now occupied by the handsomest cathedral in the world. I will not comment on its history as you are probably as familiar with it as I am. A part of the original church rating from the first century still remains. It was my pleasure to be shown through the building by one of the Elders—at least he was old enough to be so called.
I have since been in dear old France, a land quite as quaint as it has been pictured to me from childhood. As yet I am not near the front, but the next few days will probably see me on or near it.
From the landing place in France my company was first sent to a little town in the heart of the wine district of France, at a point not previously occupied by American troops. After a two weeks delightful stay, we were transported here. The length of our stay here is of course for those higher up to decide. I am ready to move with my organization any time on any notice, for by now I am never surprised at any move, and stay prepared.
Our treatment by the English was very nice, but somehow they are not as open and Frank as the French. They seem to be more of a haughty, egotistical people, while the French have received us with open hands and open hearts. When we landed here the demeanor of the people as compared with the English was noticeable. I really believe the French love the Americans better than the English, or any other nationality, and they have wonderful respect for our ability. Personally I love everything and everybody connected with this country next to the United States.
I was fortunate in crossing the ocean and the English Channel without sickness, particularly the latter, which is rough beyond comprehension. There were hundreds of soldiers crossed with us, and I am safe in saying that 90 per cent of them suffered from sea-sickness. In all my days I have never seen such a filthy spot as that boat when we landed. After landing we were taken to what they call a rest camp for several days. The “rest” part is all a joke, and I hope never to see another near a port. They are a nuisance. A jumping off place where troops are stationed awaiting transportation. Its only redeeming feature was its location near a large sea-port to which we had access.
I will not soon forget my first impression of France. We were met on our way from the boat, by two old gentlemen having beautiful manners, but limited English vocabulary, and they welcomed us with a short speech, beautiful, though in it was in characteristic French style. At the time we were presented with large bouquets of roses by the little school girls. The latter evidenced so plainly their friendship, and seemed delighted to accompany the troops.
Excuse any errors for I am writing while sitting on the floor of my tent and using the only home made chair for a table. We remained in the rest camp several days. Our departure took place at 2 a.m. one morning after a three mile hike in a downpour of rain to the station. On arrival we learned the troops would be loaded in box cars, which are hardly half the size of an American box car. Thirty five men to each car. Naturally they were packed like sardines, but I afterwards learned that forty men could be loaded into one of them. The officers were given regular passenger travel (such as it is) and we had room in which to sleep. We were nearly two days en route—almost as much time as traveling form Pike to Dix.
When I stop to consider the difference in the length of time it takes in traveling over here, I marvel at the superiority of our own country over this. We made one stop for coffee for forty minutes. Other stops of short duration, but only to take on water. The men’s rations were loaded in their cars, likewise the officers. It consisted chiefly of corned beef, beans, and bread. Fortunately I am a “demon” for any kind of food when hungry, (which is often) and ate the corned beef and hard tack with relish. Results show it for I am taking on pounds and getting fat. How the men slept in their compartments I don’t know. Personally I nearly froze to death without any cover except a rain coat, which fortunately I carried from Camp Dix, for all of my clothing except a handbag, including my trunk locker and bedding roll has been missed since leaving America, and I have travelled since only with a handbag and its contents which are limited. It at first contained an extra suit of underclothing, 2 pairs of socks, one pair of pajams, and a few toilet articles. Somehow I lost the underclothes and socks, and until a few days ago used the pajamas for a change of clothing. The pajamas were nearly worn out when I started and now are the picture of a sieve, but still seeing service, for it has been impossible to purchase clothing where we have been.
Our regiment has been separated nearly all the time. It was re-united a few days ago when I saw Bike Eisele for the first time in several weeks. He had gotten his locker and I borrowed all I wanted from him. About 2 p.m. the second day after departing the Batallion Commander told me he would detrain with two companies at some small town, and I would be in command of the remainder of the batallion, and would detrain at the next stop about ten miles away. The Bn. Com. hd an interpreter who went with him. When the station was reached I detrained with about 500 men and eight officers and food for one day.
I studied French in school, but nothing these people said could I comprehend. Not one familiar word wafted toward me so you can realize my helplessness, after the train left us in this small town with me unable to talk to any of the natives. I am certain they wanted to assist us but were as helpless as I was for lack of a common vocabulary. There I was with 500 men and officers. I had been told guides would show us to our billets, but thru some misunderstanding they were not present. It eventually occured to me that I had a private in my organization who said he could speak French. I considered this a good time to give him a “work-out.” It worked like a charm. Guides gladly volunteered to take us to our destination some eight miles away, a town named Salignac, about three miles from Cognac. Previous arrangements had been made for our coming, and as we were the first U.S. troops occupy this town or this part of France much excitement followed. The town was given to us, and the inhabitant would do anything in the world for our comfort.
Some arrangements had been made between the two governments whereby villages occupied by Americans are nearly under the latters control and so it was at Salignac. I made police regulations and ran the town insofar as it affected the troops. The people are very primitive here, still wearing wood shoes, and garb themselves in characteristic rural French costumes such as often seen in the pictures. The soldiers were scattered all over own in billets. By billets I mean mostly stables with straw on the floor. I was located at a place almost a castle, which until the war, was owned by a wealthy German wine dealer. He raised worlds of grapes and made excellent wine as I soon discovered. After war was declared it was learned that he was a Colonel in the German army and made his escape three days previous to the outbreak of war. He was active as a spy in France as a search of his effects disclosed he had everything pertaining to espionage.
The lack of men here is very noticeable as in all French towns. Those you see are either extremely old, or are wounded soldiers, and the women in the rural districts are nearly all been directly touched by this war. Foods are hard to obtain even tobacco is obtained by the natives with tickets something like obtaining sugar in the U.S., only much more difficult.
We are at Salignac a delightfu two weeks, with the exception of the fact that we had no tobacco. Te men were more or less disgruntled and dissatisfied over this. I went to Cognac, Saintes, and other places but could not buy any tobacco at all. Finally our supply company issued tobacco in very small quantities, but sufficient to satisfy. We are now getting all that we want, and I certainly hope it lasts. We left Salignac in another downpour of rain and loaded in box cars for here. Everybody wet and tired. On the tram overnight I again was cold, sleepy and tired and unable to rest. My experience to now teaches me that this is indeed a very inconvenient war. With plenty of work, and likewise plenty to eat, we all hated to leave Salignac. The beds of the officers were the best I have seen since leaving home. These French people always have good beds. Also I do not want to forget their drinks. Cognac is the center of the Cognac brandies, and the wine district of France. All the natives drink wine like we do water, and it is seldom one is seen under the influence of it, although it is sufficiently powerful to knock an American soldier flat on his back. Wine is produced everywhere here.
Cognac is a town of about 30,000 people. An American officer was a curosity there, and on my foraging the inhabitants would gaze at me like I was a curosity, but were as nice as they could be to me. I went through the Hennessey factory, a famous brandy in the U.S. The manager took me through from where the grapes enter to the finished product, and as a farewell gift presented me with a quart of the best brandy produced anywhere. Much better than 3 Star. We are now located near a large seaport on the coast. The men quartered in warehouses and the officers in tents. Our future is unknown but it looks like the regiment will be used around the docks for a short time only.
I have been detailed to attend school near the front lines, and understand that my work will be almost altogether in the front line trenches. Will leave here tomorrow sometime probably going through Paris. Please write me as often as you can as otherwise I will probably not hear anything from dear old Hot Springs. Until now I have not receive a letter from anyone, and only once in awhile a Paris edition of an American paper sifts down here. Consequently news of the outside world is very scarce. I could write you a book if not restricted by the censor but for the present will cease. Remember me to all of my friends. Will write you again soon unless restricted by being on the front lines.
Affectionately,
HARTLEY
NOTES: Edwin Hartley Wootton was born in Poolesville, Maryland on April 25, 1886 and died on September 18, 1946 in Hot Springs, Arkansas. He is buried in the Greenwood Cemetery in Hot Springs. He departed New York, NY on August 24, 1918 onboard the Ceramic. He was serving as a Captain in the 346th Infantry Co. D.
TRANSCRIBED BY MIKE POLSTON