SECTION 3
1918 Correspondence
1918 LETTER #4:
LETTER SUMMARY:
This is an excellent letter with great details of Harold's initial experiences and impressions of the World War I battlefield
-- THE EXPERIENCE OF BEING UNDER SERIOUS SHELL FIRE
-- A "DUD" LANDING THAT WOULD HAVE KILLED THEM
-- GERMAN PRISONERS
-- DESCRIBING AEROPLANE DOGFIGHTS
-- LIVING WITH RATS & COOTIES, & MORE
SOME EXCERPTS FROM THIS LETTER:
8 pages, pencil with 2 page typed letter copy.
Note on letter: "Rec Mar 23"
Priv H. W. Chapman
Co D 101 U.S. Eng.
A.E.F.
Dear Ma and Pa,
Shoot this along to the boys and let them know that no Quincyites, in the Company has stood in the way of a Boche Cannon's intention of knocking down some old tree, so that we fellows can have firewood.
We don't run right over to the tree to see what kind of wood it is either, but casually sit down under cover and wait for the Boche to send over a few encores to split the tree up into kindling.
While waiting impatiently (for the boys must have their beans on time), one hears a buzzing sound all around him. It reminds you of the bees in the honeysuckle at home and when something red hot sinks itself in the muck beside you, you have visions of Paris and liken the red hot steel to a rose thrown at you by Mademoiselle from an overhead balcony. Your visions disappear quickly however and you realize its shrapnel
[...]
Now that you have found out we are all o.,k. you probably want to know everything about where we are, conditions, what we are doing, etc., but its funny, every time we write along those lines the censor thinks they are written to him so just naturally cuts them out.
After reading my letters through they remind me of the big war game we are playing over here, in which everything is covered with cabbage flower (camouflage). My letters take up a lot of paper still there is nothing in them.
The other day we were sitting at the mouth of a dugout, in the warm sun, waiting for the arrival of S.O.S. (same old stew) when a "dud" landed right beside us. If it had ever gone off "Quincy" wouldn't have to bother any longer chasing four or five of us for our poll tax. By the way, a "dud" is a shell that doesn't explode. Shells come in all sizes.
This particular one, when it landed, was bigger than a steam boiler (at least we thought so) but after it (or we) had time to cool off it stood about 2.5' high by 8" wide.
Life isn't so bad at the front. Within sight of No Man's Land it is possible to get Champagne for those that can't drink water. That reminds me, we keep reading of the cry to keep liquors from the trenches and give the boys water.
There's water everywhere and hardly any of it good to drink. There is too much water. Water! Out here? Why the boys in the trenches are up to their knees in water. What did they think we are standing in, Beer?
The Boche (we call them "Bushes") greeted the Americans with a "Good morning American prisoners." They take it for granted that we are as good as captured. They figure we are convicts sent over to fight or are English dressed up as Sammies.
A few have found out differently however, as our Infantry brought in about 20 prisoners day before yesterday. They said they were glad to be captured. Well better that than to be pushing up daisies all the way back to Berlin.
They didn't appear to be hungry looking as starving Germany leads one to believe. In fact one had a loaf of German bread under his arm that actually made my mouth water.
Have failed to find a spot in this section of the Country that hasn't been hit by a shell. We are on ground that has been retaken by the French and was the scene of one of the biggest battles of the war. It looks it too, for everything is laid flat
[...]
Its a wonderful sight to watch the Anti Aircraft guns pepper away at an AEROPLANE. Little black and white spots form in the sky and it isn't until sometime later that you hear the report.
Beachey at Squantum, never had anything on these fliers when they are fighting. Each one tries to get above the other and the flash of the machine guns are plainly seen. A Boche plane was brought down in our lines the other day.
We are all quartered under ground and turn in with four or five rats as bunkmates. Woke up the other night and caught one making a roll up with tobacco stolen from my pocket.
Outside of these pals the Cooties are the best friends I have, at least they seem to stick the closest. Guess I'll stop or the Censor will cut this rambling up into two volumes. I might add however that the war is still going on.
Don't forget that a message from back home is a good deal better than a message from the other side "No Man's Land."
Don't worry, for if the Quartermaster Dept. keeps issuing equipment for us to carry around, we won't have any desire to carry along souvenirs in our hides.
Will write again as soon as possible.
With love
Bootus
[Censor's script passing letter]
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