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He told me some of the things they did when they first heard the guns go off close. One fellow who was supposed to be the nerviest one of the bunch was out on the road one night and happened to stop near a big battery. He was doing some work on his engine and had a flashlight out. These guns happened to fire a salvo and this kid about tore his head off getting out from under the hood and yelling to put that "d-n light out."
USED TO THE GUNSAnother time, three fellows were standing talking, one facing the other two, some big guns opened up right behind him and he knocked the other two down getting out of the way. Judging from these, I guess I'm not the only only that gets a little worried when they don't know what it is.
At night we can see the shells breaking quite plainly. You have probably heard of the "star shells" that they use for illumination. They look just like a Fourth of July Roman candle. Some nights the air is full of them and then other nights there are just a few. An air raid on a distant town at night is the most spectacular thing I've seen. You can see the flashlights shooting all through the air. You can hear the noise of the motor if the wind is right, but can't see the plane. The star shells and shrapnel bursting are the only things that tell about where the plane is.
A bunch of us had to do a little camp duty the other day and some of the French soldiers had a fire in which we were burning the rubbish. The Frenchmen must have thrown a box in that had some old shells in because as we were standing around getting dry (it had been raining), the fire started shooting shells in every direction. The "camp duty" turned into a 100-yard dash right there. It didn't take any of us very long to get out of there.
I was surprised at the number of men you see in France. The idea I had when in the states was that the male population of France was about nil, but it's not so. All the men that you see, though, are in uniform and it's very seldom that you see one between 18 and 25. They have either been killed or are at the front now.
We get very little news here; in fact, I knew more about the war when in the states.
The country around here is simply wonderful. Everything is green and there are so many wonderful woods here. You don't see a stick of wood on the ground in the French woods. Every bit is picked up and used as fuel. We are in a country that was once occupied by the Germans and there are old trenches all through here. Went out and looked at one last evening. Got down in a dugout and was about twenty-five feet underground.
WAS ONCE HEADQUARTERS The camp headquarters was once a German officers' headquarters and the kaiser stayed here all night once. Just outside of the camp is a German sign saying, "First section of the second line." The camp is an old estate belonging to some count, but we are in tents.
Later:
We work here in camp in the morning, drill and lectures, and then in the afternoon go out in convoy. A convoy is any number of trucks in a train. Was over to Villers Cottereto, yesterday, hauling wood for barracks for the hospital there. Only chose a few to go and this afternoon we went to Soissons hauling wood. Soissons used to be held by the Germans and is all shot up.
A famous cathedral there was in ruins. Practically every building has holes from shells in it. Had a little time yesterday and walked over to an aviation camp near here. Had an awful bunch of machines there. Didn't have much time and none went up while we were there, but we can see them
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come in every night, five and six at a time. They turn all kinds of flip flops before they come down. They handle the things just like automobiles.
In Villeres yesterday we had German prisoners loading our trucks and we stopped at a little house on the road where there were about fifteen of them today. Had barbed wire all over the windows. Soissons is not very far from the front and it gets shelled every so often. People are still there though and don't seem to mind it. Take it as a matter of course. Norm (referring to Norman Curtice) is at Soissons and one of the fellows in our bunch saw him today, but I missed him.
THE CAMP DUTY Have been in charge of camp duty three times and in charge of trucks two times and have four or five men on a truck and the same in the other. We had to wash and grease the trucks this morning. I was given a truck and three men and we had to wash it and grease it. Had the cleanest and best greased truck and was through first. Not so bad for your Uncle Dudley, was it?
We will probably be here for a week yet and then go out to the front. Three and four sections are in what is called a group mont. And I think we will be in 242, which is Norm Curtice's group. It is getting so dark I can't see.
On August 19 he writes:
Last night someone said that today would be Sunday. It was news to me. I get so I don't know one day from another here. It being Sunday (and we took a big, long ride yesterday, didn't get in until 9 p. m.) so we got to sleep one-half hour longer this morning, with nothing to do after 10 a. in. Drilled thunder out of us though while they had a chance. All the commands for drill are given in French and they have been letting some of the company take turns at drilling them. Lyle had his turn the other day.
There is an order, "arms sur l'paule" (right shoulder arms) and Lyle gave it "arms silvous plait" which means "arms please."
HIS TURN YESTERDAY My turn came yesterday. Had been rather dumpy all morning, then was getting mixed up. Corporal was kidding me about it and had bawled me out. Guess he thought he would get me, so he told me to fall out, drill the company and put them through the manual of arms. I thought to myself, "I'm done for now." Was a little bit fussed at first, but got it going fine. When I'd give the orders I'd bark them out, and I had them going right along in 1, 2, 3 time. I fooled his nibs the corporal, first chance I have ever had at it; hope I get another, it is fun.
Went down to Capital Crepy yesterday in our convois. Pretty good-sized town, but funny. All of these French towns are funny. Winding streets that go every way, and the darndest stores, they open right out onto the streets. They don't have any walks. You ought to see us trying to buy things. I'll see something I want, and I'll say, "Com brin?" (bow much?); they'll tell me, and usually have to write it before I understand. I come right back at them with "trop cher" (too dear), and then they come down some. They always try to get as much as they can for things, especially out of Americans. Haven't done any driving for the last three days, because the man in charge is just supposed to occupy the front seat and see that everything goes all O. K. Have one man to drive and another to act as second driver. He does all the signalling, cranking and all the rough work, and I sit on the seat like a "million dollars." Did I tell you that I had my hair cut off? It's whacked clear off now and I look like a convict. It's the only way to keep it clean, and then you don't have to bother about combing it. I wouldn't have time to comb, it and it got so my head hurt.
We got paid the other day. Was a big
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surprise for most of us because most of us didn't expect it. For nine days' time we got two francs, 25 centimes, which is 45 cents real money. Five cents a day is big pay, isn't it? We don't get a bit of news here, nothing about the war, and there is a thousand and one rumors and you can't believe any, so send me all the news you get hold of. Am in good health and haven't been sick yet. Fairly good eats, but monotonous. Will probably get out of here Wednesday or Thursday. Haven't received any mail as yet, and am getting pretty anxious. Love.
SEN.
Later: Have been on "repose" for three or four days. The day after my last letters came I was called out at 4 a. m. Didn't get back till 12:30 a. m. the next day. Twenty hours on the road. It was quite a little stretch, and I was all in when I got back. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the dust. It's awful. We come in just covered from head to foot with this dust, Hair, eyes, clothing, everything--looks like these 101 Ranch movie actor soldiers after they come in from a "Paul Revere" ride.
The roads here are made of some kind of chipped rock which pulverizes and they are dry and dusty within an hour after a rain.
Just to show you how the French run some things, the day we were out so long we were the only section in the groupernent (sic) of twelve sections who had orders and they made us run a double convois (one to one place and one to another), and each convois had to make two trips. First our convois went to a loading station and after loading had to go to the unloading station near the "front" and unload. Then we had to go clear over about eighteen miles west on the other side of S--- don't know whether that will get by the censors) and load again and carry the load back east to the first unloading station. There were four or five sections who were idle on that day, too. I happened to know this because the chief had taken me over there in his staff car to see Norm while our convoy was plugging along the road. Got over there and Norm had been sent to the officers' training camp, so I didn't get to see him. The last unloading station is only a kilometer from the trenches. A kilo is five-eighths of a mile. We always have to go up to those places at night because even tho most of the roads are screened they can be seen by the Germans in the day time and a convoy full of ammunition would make a fine mess if a boche gun got to it.
The place is full of French batteries of all calibres. We were rolling a road right beside the Aisnee river and a French battery of 105's right beside the road all hid by grass, trees and painted canvas, let loose. Believe me, they made some noise, and when that thing went off, I nearly went into the river. I thought the devil was after me sure. When we got up to the unloading station it was worse than ever. Batteries everywhere and all going off at once. We'd been there about ten minutes when the Germans started shooting. We were right under the brow of a hill and the shells were going over the hill and breaking from 200 to 300 yards from us. It was my initiation into being under fire, and if I was scared when the battery went off why I don't know what was the matter with me then. It's one thing to be telling about it and another to be in it. You can hear them coming and they make quite a racket. Sounds something like a cross between a skyrocket and the wind whistling around the corner. We had orders to stick with our cannons, but when I heard that first one whistle go off it was me for a dugout and I didn't go slow either.
In one letter he describes an air raid.
Believe me I never saw so many planes. You can see them in almost every direction. The other night we saw an air raid by some boche planes and it ended up by being an air fight. These are very common, but are
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always interesting. I counted twenty-eight machines in the air at once. When the boches came over, the French started shooting shrapnel at them. The shrapnel breaks with a little white puff. There were three boche planes and the shrapnel was breaking all around them. The guns were shooting all around us and we were in danger of falling shrapnel, but were too big fools to know it. We just put on our tin derbies and stood out there with our faces turned up watching the fight. The French all ran for cover. The French machines were up by this time and guns stopped shooting for fear of hitting their own machines. They went up so high that we could hardly see them. Sometimes we lost sight of them altogether and could only see them when they turned and the sun flashed on the wings.One French machine got up above the boche and opened up on his plane with a machine gun. We could hear it spit and the boche speeded up and started straight up and then fell end over end, wing over wing. When they speed up very fast they streak smoke out behind them and when we saw the smoke and the way he fell we all thought he was hit. He fell about half way to the ground, straightened out and flew off. It had anything I ever saw beat a mile.
LIEUT. SHORTY McMULLEN, '17
I think in the little note that I wrote you from Paris I promised to tell you something of my trip to the front line and from the looks of the above date I certainly have taken my time to do it. But you want to try and consider the conditions over here have changed completely, not only the things we are accustomed to do in ordinary life, but also the routine of army life, and so letter writing is often called upon to bear its share of the burden. Last Sunday afternoon, when I probably should have found some way to have written, I hiked over to a neighboring village, about two and one-half miles from here, to see my old friend, Ed Shoemaker, whom I had not seen since leaving for school. He is one of the old school pals you remember from Sidney, Nebraska, and by the way an acquaintance of John Allen. He had been away to another school in another part of the country, and it was a great old history session that we had. The other friend, George Irwin, from Bridgeport, I left at Camp Mills with an Alabama regiment, who I hear are over here now in this part of the country somewhere, but as yet have not been able to locate him.
It is very near seven o'clock and a sergeant just came to the door and said that the captain says that there will be an officers' meeting right away, so you see not even tonight to myself, and no telling if it lasts very long when I get this finished.
Same night:
After leaving Paris that night, we reported to division headquarters, which had changed to a different town, and found that our regiment had also moved. We then reported to regimental headquarters and from there to our company. Considering that there is a better country around, and we are close to a railroad, although there is not much improvement. You recall that I left the other town for school before I had time to clean up the place, and I had anticipated all this being done when I got back, but the company had just arrived in this place a couple of days before me, so I came in for my part in cleaning away the manure piles from the front doors, so that we can get in
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and out of the houses. As Robert Stevens says: "There's strange things down neath the midnight sun," but about the greatest I ever did see are those done by the French people. So just remind me some evening when I get back and I'll entertain you on the not only ancient but odd customs I ran across in France.
Now I do not think it would be giving away any military information to tell you that while visiting the front line I experienced the sensation of shrapnel shells bursting around me, and on one occasion I picked up a hot chunk that hit on the parapet right by me. Both the enemy and our own artillery were exchanging shots most of the time at each other, and of course the shells pass high in the air over our heads. I kept wanting to keep low when I first heard them whistling over, but after being convinced that there was not much danger of any of them lighting close to us, their sound became rather fascinating. I shot a trench mortar into the German lines, the shell of which makes a crater in the ground twenty feet wide and thirty feet deep, and also a few rifle grenades among; I think I must have killed a Boche, but of course can't be certain. I would keep looking through the periscope as we passed along for a chance to take a snipe shot, but did not get lucky. All the men we would ask if they had seen any would say it had been the day before.
I also had the experience of seeing an aeroplane brought down less than 200 yards from where I was standing in the trench. It did not seem over fifty yards, and naturally I wanted to rush right over. The plane burst into flames as soon as it hit the ground, and when I was informed that if a crowd got around it the Germans would train a machine gun or two on the spot, I was not so anxious to go on. The pilot was killed and the observer probably mortally wounded. It is way past my bedtime, so I must draw this to a close.
I want to tell you that I arrived here the day before New Year's, and found six letters for me. It was the first mail that I had received since leaving New York, and under the circumstances and all, which I cannot explain, I can only say that I won't be able to get much more pleasure and enjoyment out of putting foot on American soil again than I did out of those letters, and that is saying a good deal. So now you express to them all before I get a chance to answer, my appreciation.
In closing I want to say that we are all working hard over here, and in the best of health and spirits. When spring comes we are going to be equipped both in material and training ready to go into the line. The "Boche" is a good fighter, and they all hand it to him over here--even the Canadians, but what I want to tell you is that he's got to be, and he's going to be called on this spring to show just a little bit more class than he ever has before. We have bit off an unusual chunk and there are great things expected of us, but the beautiful part of it all is that the way things look now, we can't be stopped from producing.
McMULLEN.
LIEUT. ED SHOEMAKER, '17 We had a very fine trip over and our troops are now located in a small French village in France. The troops live in old houses and barns, while the officers are in quarters located in private homes. Quite comfortable, but nothing like the good old U. S. A. Many of the French customs are actually primitive, wooden shoes, and people living next door to the live stock, and many other such historic customs. We spent the first week cleaning up their town for them, and I am not sure they have been very comfortable since. Just at present I am not with the company, but am going to a school. We are getting some
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real dope, and will sure give the Germans hell some of these days. I might also say that I have been fortunate enough to be a first lieutenant since October 1st.The difficulty in writing these letters from this part of the world under these conditions is that you can't say much. The censorship is pretty strict, as it should be.
This is really a great life, Bob, and I enjoy it very much. There is no doubt but what this is the only place to train the American troops. You get more in a week over here than you would in months in the States. It rains most of the time and you are in mud up to your knees all the time, but you don't mind a little thing like that.
Unless the unforeseen happens I will be in Paris two weeks from today. Am looking forward to that trip with an anticipation of having a good time.
On the square, these French don't have enough of anything to keep them going half their natural life. An American burns as much wood (they don't know what coal is) in a day as they do in a month, and what they eat and how they live on what they do is more than I know. We have never half appreciated the country we live in.
I hope you will pardon this penmanship as I am writing this in an officers' club where there is no supply of ink.
ED SHOEMAKER.
LIEUT. RICHARD COOK, Ex-'19
I am much pleased to at last write of my experiences in France. My last letter was rather foolish in tone, as I didn't have anything to tell and hadn't seen very much of interest. It will interest you, I know, to hear that I have my grammar with me, the old worn book that I had in class, and the verbs are useful every day--most useful. The nouns are, too, but the verbs are something most of the Americans cannot digest very easily. Every day I need another one of your idioms or verbs. Among the most useful idioms and verbs are: avoir and avoir sommeeail, faim, froid, chaud, besoin, faire and il fait froid, beau temps, mauvais temps, etc.: aller. all tenses; faire une promenade, and indeed others too numerous to mention. I have used all these things and have a great advantage over most Americans. "Ma chambre" is near a big chateau and "mon lit" is a big fluffy affair with a cushion on top. My landlady brings "l'eay chaude" for me to wash with each morning, and for "petit dejeuner" we have only coffee, bread and butter. The evening meal is biggest. The coffee at breakfast is served in bowls. The fireplaces are fine. Mine burned out cette apres midi and the first thing I knew there was a ding-aling and the population looked for fire. My how that chimney burned and blazed. I held part of tent over the fireplace to stop the draft, but coals fell down--from the chimney and nearly choked me or cooked me. Finally all settled down after the burning floor above etait extingue and I bought a bottle of white bordeaux wine for the gallant "hommes," who helped in the "guerre" with the fire. Last night at the big church the troops gave a Christmas program for the children of ----- and it was fine. Each enfant got a present. Our band played "Over There," "Goodbye Broadway," "La Marseillaise," and others. It was the first real American Christmas here, and duly enjoyed by the enfants. I have my grammar here and hope to hammer you out a letter in French soon. If necessary, the professor of the vil-
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lage or Monsieur -----, another very educated gentleman, will help. Even the children use the same phrases we use in your class, and you can tell your classes that they study fine French. That linking goes "tres bien." Our town has old, old concrete houses. The streets are very narrow and crooked. Clothes are washed in the creek or at the city wash house. The people are very friendly.
RICHARD E. COOK,
Second Lt., 168th Infantry.* * * * *
We wuz in the trenches the other day but nothin' much happened to your Uncle Dick, who writes this here letter.
We wuz real muddy bekaz the sun did not go with us to the trenches and it rained too.
I slept fine on a chicken wire berth in a dugout 2 nights and not a rat touched me.
The Dutch artillery is alwaz whistlin' around but you here lots and lots o' shells that don't come no where near you and so one isnt so skared so much.
Bod Proudfit and Marcu Poteet are near here but if I knew exactly where I wouldnt tell ye. I saw them in December and they said hello are you over here.
I ain't had no adventures. Prof. Hanley's French dope has been awful handy. It was real cold here for a little while. We've traveled around some. just had a bath and it was great. So long,COOK
Ok
Richard E. Cook.
2nd Lt., 169th Inf.Army Heavy Artillery School, A. E. F., France. My Dear Professor Ferguson:
I received your welcome letter a short time ago. I was glad to learn that things are going so well at school. Men here at camp tell of their schools having been reduced in attendance a great deal more and in some cases almost closed. The drain on engineers by the war will be felt more and more as the war goes on. In this day of map firing for artillery every artillery officer should be an engineer and the duties of the army engineer and signal corps require engineering training and a larger force of these men is employed than was ever before the case.
I am just completing the first course given at the Heavy Artillery School in France. The course closes next Thursday. We have been here three months. The work has been very interesting, not very difficult, but we have put in long hours. By a special effort I rank a little higher in class standing than I did at Nebraska. Our subjects have been topographical work for the preparation of fire, ballistics and considerations of reconnaissance. We have it that we will be given a few days off to visit Paris beginning next Thursday. I was at the French metropolis only a very short time on one occasion.
I have not seen evidence of very much electrical engineering work of interest in France. Their method of supporting telephone and lighting lines on cross-arms mounted on the sides of roofs of buildings is a bit interesting, but the overhead work could not be installed in our cities on account of the differences in height of buildings. We are far ahead of Europe in all kinds of electrical work. Someone said that New York City has more telephones than all France. I could not vouch for the correctness of the statement, however.
WALTER HALL.
1st Lt., C. A. C. U. S. R.
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