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Dear Father & Mother:-
As I have told you in the letter which I wrote several days ago we were
taken from the sector which we previously occupied and removed to the rear
area for a rest. Instead of the rest lasting for two weeks or a month as
we anticipated it was only for two days. We were called again and came to
this sector which is quiet as yet, but not for long. It is in a very
mountainous country and the fighting here will be in trenches. (This is a
French pencil and very poor.) It took long days of hiking and truck riding
to reach this position, some of our hikes were twenty two miles a day. My
legs held out O.K. but I haven't quite enough meat on my shoulders for the
weighty pack.
[Letter is written with different pencil from
this point on]
Imagine my surprise when I received nine letters from home yesterday. One
from you, one from Grace, two from Florence and also from "Doc" Engle, "Tus"
Hockenberry, and several others. When I opened the one containing your
pictures I can't describe my feelings. It seems so long since I saw any of
you that for a minute I felt just a trifle sick or as if I must speak to
you right off. They are great and I'll take care to hang onto them. So my
dad is hunting sixty! I only hope I can stay in a state of preservation as
good when I am that age. Just at present the Hun is making every effort to
keep any of us from dying of old age but so far none have come over with
my name on them. Your letters are wonderful but what has given you the
idea that I am despondent. I've never had time to think of myself for
three months now. I have a good bit of work and it is so interesting that
I enjoy it all the time. From the time I get up until bedtime, if there is
a bedtime in the Army, I am doing my bit and glad to do it. As I told you
long ago I am just where I ought to be and give me credit for some
farsightedness for wouldn't I had a wonderful time telling everyone about
my weak heart. Coz. Louis better enjoy the congenial company of the fair
sex now because when the real Yanks come home he'll be a "shanty-boat" for
sure. His middle name might be Lockard but his blood isn't and I'm sure if
he had just one strain of Horne in him he'd be in.
For the last few days I've been a French soldier. Dressed in their uniform
I spent my first hitch in the trenches. Our Regiment is not up yet and we
were in for instruction. They are great teachers, these French, and know
the stuff. We were in an observation post about sixty feet in the tree
tops. It was built on the same plan as our water towers and was of half
inch steel. A narrow slit gave us a view of the trenches in the woods
below and also of many miles of country beyond. These O.P.'s are
camouflaged to look like the trees and are hard to discern. The Hun is
constantly on the lookout for them and the French Sergt. who spoke good
English, told us about building one to look exactly like a tree. It took
weeks of night work and just the day it was completed the Germans who had
been watching it every day raised a sign above their trench which was
printed in French and read, "For God's sake take that damned thing down",
after which they proceeded to demolish it with their guns. We are very
careful and only go in and out by night. Oh! These Huns are something for
greenhorns to go up against by then we Yanks learn fairly quickly.
Now dad, and mother, and Grace don't get the idea that I'm down on my
luck. I'm not. I'm doing my work well and get what small credit is due a
soldier. "Are we downhearted?" "All together!” “No!” My fingers are most
frozen so I must close. Love and kisses for all of you from
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