May 29, 1918 -- Camp? -- Somewhere in France

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mr. Wm. Sherwood                                                                                       

   May 29, 1918

Kendall, Wisconsin

USA 

My dear Home Folks:

            As it is rapidly getting dark I will rather have to hurry this epistle up some if I am to finish before it is too dark to see.  I only wish I might paint you even a slight word sketch of my surroundings at this instant and some of the events which have transpired since I last wrote you.  But as that is impossible, I can only say that while the heading on this letter is the same as in the last, the scene has shifted greatly. 

            I have received no mail since we embarked, so I am quite a ways behind the times in Wisconsin and in fact all of the good old U. S. A.  But please write as regular as possible, as I still live in hopes of receiving some of my mail sometime. 

            I hope you will excuse the pencil this time as I have not access to any table…. * (36 hrs later).  I have already had the pleasure of riding on one of those odd French trains.    They look like toys compared with such American trains as the 20^th Century Limited[1], etc. 

            Do not worry about me, as I am well billeted very comfortably, and the weather is ideal here. Warm, sunny days with cool, fresh nights to put snap and vigor into us.

            I have been wondering if you have received my insurance papers yet, or at least an official notice of the fact that I had taken out insurance. If not, please let me know by return mail as I will try to get it straightened out from this end. And if perchance I should shuffle off this mundane sphere before you get the papers, please get after the matter as soon as possible after you get the official notice of my death, as the records showing that I took out the insurance and that it has been deducted from my pay regularly might become lost or destroyed. 

            Do not think from this that I am either in grave danger, morbid, or avaricious, but the insurance has been paid and in case of accident you should get the $57.00 each month for 240 months (20 years). 

            Now I think I had better close for this time.  Will enclose the last three numbers of the “Hatchet” with this [None with letter]. 

            Love once more to you all, and always my regards to my friends,

            Your loving son and brother,

                                              George

---

[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/20th_Century_Limited The 20th Century Limited was an express passenger train operated by the New York Central Railroad from 1902 to 1967, during which time it would become known as a "National Institution" and the "Most Famous Train in the World." In the year of its last run, The New York Times said that it "...was known to railroad buffs for 65 years as the world's greatest train."^[1] The train traveled between Grand Central Terminal in New York City and LaSalle Street Station in Chicago, Illinois along the railroad's famed "Water Level Route". Photo of train as part of article.

May 20, 1918 -- George Writes to Susan and Family about Shopping in France

My dear Home Folks:

            Another warm, sunny day beams down on us over here “somewhere in France.”  I should imagine it would be rather interesting to you over there to try to guess where I am when I write each time for tho I may be able to tell when we move some of the time, it will always have to be “Somewhere in Europe” etc. regarding where we are.

            Haven’t been able to pick up any of the French language yet, but am getting used to their money and its values compared to ours a little. 

            Candy, soap and shoe polish seem to be very high and hard to get, at least here.  But some candy and tobacco can procured at the U.S. Commissary quite reasonably.  I haven’t received any mail yet since we arrived here, but that is rather natural I expect.  Do not expect letters from me more than on an average of one per week as there is little one can write about and so there is no use bothering the Co. Commander to censor a lot of foolish palaver, and add more to the already congested mail. 

            I think I forgot to number my last letter, so I’ll call this 9G and try once more to keep track as I go along.

            This is a very pretty country around here, especially as it is just like spring here now.  I am well except a slight cold. Wish I knew the same for all of you at home. 

            Will close with love and best wishes from – France –.

                                                Your loving son and brother,

                                                                        George

Greetings to everyone of my friends and get them to write. 

 OK

J. C. Campbell
1st Lieu., 108th Engrs.  

May 18, 1918 -- George Finally Arrives "Somewhere in France"

5-18-18 George Sherwood 108^th A.E.F Soldier Mail

Land Ho!

Right Side up, riding at anchor “Somewhere in France”.  Feeling just fine, and who could help after such an excellent voyage, considering of course the crowded condiions of a troop ship.  Now we are patiently waiting to disembark.  So at last we say “hello” to our dear home folks from “somewhere in France” – George

  

[George writes on a postcard from New York City Central Park.  Note censor stamp on original postcard.]

 ALSO THIS DATE

 

May 15, 2018 - George Spends a Week at Sea

 

On the Swelling Atlantic 5 -15                     8

(Eastward Bound)

My dear Home Folks,

            Again there is a lull in the work here and the desire to talk to some of my dear ones takes possession of me.  We have now been actually sailing for just a week if we don’t consider the several hours we have gained since we left “America” behind.  Nearly seven days without a sight of land.  But the weather conditions have been ideal nearly all of the way.  Day before yesterday there was scarcely a ripple on the surface and but very little swell evident.  In fact, I think we are rather lucky that the wind has stirred things up some, as we are now drawing into the real danger zone, and those conditions would be a little too ideal for submarines.  Yesterday it rained a little and blew quite hard, so we have been rolling quite a bit and the steel beams of our ship creaked and groaned some during the night.  But tho I felt a trifle upset when I turned in last night, I took a salt water shower (just as it came from Neptune’s depth) and felt fine this morning when I got up, in spite of the fact we rocked worse than ever.  A few fellows were really sick, but most of us only feel slightly squeamish at times. I suppose that is rather natural as this is the first trip for many of us. 

            I am enclosing a copy or two of our ship newspaper.  This is local talent and wireless news, but while a rather small sheet, it keeps us in touch with the outside world so that we do not feel quite so isolated as we might.

            Please excuse the rather smudged appearance of this letter, and the bum job I did tearing it off at the top.  It is out of one of our pads here on the desk and doesn’t follow the perforations very well.  Now I guess I had best bring this to a close, or I’ll be slipping over onto another page and won’t have room for the “Hatchet.”

            So will close with love to you all,

                                    George 

            OK

            JC Campbell

            1^st Lieut

            108^th Engrs.

[No Hatchet enclosed with this letter now – may show up somewhere]

1918-0510    Fannie Lindsay  (His sister Dora's mother-in-law) to George Sherwood

Boise Ida

Dear Friend:

I could not – tell you how much we did enjoy your y---? Interesting letter.  We will be so glad when you can find time to write again.  We are wondering if you are still at Camp Logan or if you have been moved and if so where

Had a lovely letter from Dora and Guy, May 1^st, that being my birthday.  Dora is so busy making a garden.  Every one here is making War gardens.  We had a fine one last year, when Dora and Margaret where here.  Well I believe I told you that we had thirteen girls in the house and only one man.  He goes this week, and the girls are “busy ladies” now looking for another man but have not been successful up to date.  Mr. Hill has been expecting his call for some time, and surely will miss him.  A jolly young fellow.  Not so young either, too old for the draft, but enlisted giving up a fine position here, to go with the fine loyal boys who are all giving up so much for our country.

            I have knit several pairs of sox and am just commencing another pair, as soon as they are finished I will send them to you. Wonder if you have big feet no 10 or 6.  Well I’ll knit them large, so as to be sure . May be they will shrink if they are to large.

            The weather here is so lovely, our springs are always so fine.  We went fishing Sat afternoon caught a fine mess of fish.

            We just devour every bit of war news that we get hold of, some of our home boys letters are published in our daily papers, and we look for them the first thing when we get  our morning paper.  

            We are so full of hope and confidence that we will win and trust that it will be soon.

            It is somewhat difficult to write an interesting letter to one whom we have never seen but we felt that we wanted Dora’s brother to know that – that we are often thinking of him and that we are sending our very best thoughts and wishes with him, wherever he may go.

            Hoping you may find time to drop us a line often,

  Must close, will write again soon.    Your Cincere friend.

                                    Fannie S. Lindsey 1017 Washington  St.

 

May 7, 1918 -- George Goes to Sea

 

 [The actual date on this letter is known from the letter George sent on Nov 28, 1918 after the Armistice where George tells us exactly when they left NY and when they arrived in France.  The number of days at sea are scratched out, apparently by the censor, but the humorous thing is that the letter has a "passed censor" date of May 11, 1918, so for all intents, the dates might as well have been left on the letter!]

 On board the good ship -------

D. O. A.   [Dear Ones All]                                                                                                May ?   1918

There, I reckon there isn’t much there to censor.  Anyway, we are on our way at last, pulling out away from dear old Uncle Sam, so that we may do our bit and best to preserve that grand Uncle with all his “liberty” for our glorious and triumphal return. 

You know there is really nothing to write about.  The only reason I do is because when I have a little time I feel like talking to you, and so I sit down and write, but of what?  Anyway, it is a little enjoyment to me and I know you all well enough

[changes to typewriting] to know that you will be interested in anything I write about no matter how inconsequential. 

 

            Next day

All night the screws have been churning the water, carrying us farther and farther away from AMERICA and YOU.  To what, When & Where? 

No land in sight, but all kinds of clear blue water sparkling in the sun today.  

Still on board the good ship???

   “      May ??????  1918

[returns to handwriting]

To day is our [no. scratched out] day out.  More sunshine & water.  But as you know, I have always enjoyed the water any way, so I enjoy this trip more than many, even in spite of the discomforts.  Am sending you a copy of the “Hatchet,” our ship’s paper with its little local news and jokes, also its wireless reports from outside.  Yesterday P.M. we had quite a bit of entertainment on the aft hatch in the way of acrobatics, music and boxing.  Expect more today.  Still well.  And love to all again. 

[no. scratched out] day out.

Again I’ll say hello and goodbye.  Slightly rough and several soldiers helping to provide for the poor hungry fish already.  I may come to it myself before the day is over.  Love to all.  Will mail this to-nite if possible.

                                                            George.