December 25, 1918 - George Writes Home of Food, Gifts, Lice and Bathing Adventures

          I hope you have received the rather lengthy letter I dispatched to you the other day, but in case you did not you can see by this that we are now in the army occupying Luxembourg.  The people here have never been overly well disposed toward the Germans, so now they treat the victorious army very well.         

            The two packages arrived here at the most opportune time.  Both in time for a Very Merry Xmas.  And it has been all of that due to those same packages largely.  The clothes and pen came day before yesterday and I kept them a whole hour before I opened them, examined said pen and laid my face I the beautiful warm union suits that were there for me.  The size looks right, but as we have not yet established bathing facilities here, I haven’t even tried them on.  You see, the company is not all gone yet and I hate to salt them bad the first time.  Now I think we may have settled long enough to nearly exterminate them with proper pains.

            I don’t think I told you about the bath I took at Senningen, did I?  We blew in there about 1 P.M. alive literally – no bath for three weeks.  The first thing we hit on a large wash house at the Chateau similar to our spring house, only there were two cement water tanks about twice as big as ours and a little deeper.  And an inch stream of mountain water gushing into each.  No sooner seen than done.  Out came our other suit of underwear, kept clean at much sacrifice, and we repaired to the wash room (toot-sweet), that’s the way French in a great hurry sounds but I have no idea how to spell it.  Anyway, we stripped and stepped off our board on to the cement floor.  Shock number 1.  Bravely we mounted the sides of the tank and Johnson stuck one grimy toe in the sparkling fountain of cleanliness.  And like the leaf of a frost blasted tree he withered.  After a consultation we decided to approach our bath with caution, soaping up with much groaning and shivering and chattering of teeth.  We were well lathered up and contemplating the icy depths with sinking heart when we heard a titter of feminine laughter, and caught a fleeting glance of three men and three women coming down the road.  In an other instant they would be opposite the door and literally catch us in the bath, so with but one thot in mind we hit the water.  It was only waste deep but we were forever getting to the bottom  Johnnie let out a yell like an Indian and started standing on one foot then the other, tho I still fail to see how that helped the case any.  However, we made noise enough so that the party grasped the situation when they saw our shoulders above the edges of the tanks and how they laughed. They had a right to, I guess, but they took their time to do it.  Well, we got one layer of dirt off anyway, but Johnnie says – Never Again.  We felt fine after it was over, but oh was it cold.  That night it snowed a little.

            We have our office here set up in a little school room  The four of us that constitute the office staff have 2 rooms here in a Luxembourg home.  It is certainly typical.  Barn in the basement with cows, pigs and chickens.  The room we spend our very few leisure hours in has a stove, so when we can get a little wood it is fine.  I rather expected to have a very busy or else a bored Xmas, because the family consists of the old Grandmother and the unmarried son who hasn’t much imagination.  But yesterday evening his cousin came to spend Xmas, so as I can talk a little German things brightened up considerable.  And yesterday we went out to scare up a meal of some sort for today and found a place where they had a big, fat, grey rabbit.  Finally we came to an agreement.  The man’s wife promised us soup, coffee, rabbit, potatoes, black bread, sugar and gravy for 35 F ($7.00).  So we took a chance and it was worth it.  We had a good feed of roast pork, dressing, potatoes and gravy for dinner at noon. 

            Then at 7 P.M. we went down there and how us four did eat.  It was from a plain wooden table, and a plain room, but she brought in browned potatoes, enough for threshers, she had a great big bowl of delicious noodle rabbit broth soup and the rabbit fried like mother used to make.  I feel yet like a stuffed pig.

            And yesterday the most beautiful Xmas box came to me.  We had that for Xmas Eve.  Of course, I swapped up with the fellows as they did with me, but how good that old familiar fudge looked to me and how much better that and the nuts tasted than they looked – if that be possible.  You see, I’ve run out of superlatives already and haven’t half expressed myself.  The little metal box was so original and kept the candy and nuts as fresh as when packed. It landed fresher than many that came only to Logan.  Everybody was wild over it. 

            The gloves fit just fine too and are so long and warm I’m sure fixed for the winter now.  And the pictures bring back fond recollections of “days gone by.”  OH, may the soon come again.  Well now I’ll have to close with a very, very Merry Xmas and a Happy, Happy New Year to All.

                                                            Love to Auntie too.

                                                                        George
                                                                      Sherwood
                                                                        Hq. 108^th Engr.

C.L. Thompson

Capt Enginr American Ex. F.

December 24, 1918 -- George Remembers Family Far, Far Away on Christmas Eve

This particular letter is written on parchment paper, only on one side.  Two letters are written on each folded over sheet.  You can see the letter to his mother through the scan under the writing on top.  The Army Engineers Logo is drawn by George with his 108^th added in color. ]

 Dear Dad,

            You can’t know how much I appreciate the little letters you write me in your own words and handwriting.  Please come again often.  The Thanksgiving letter from you all was such a treat. So I am stealing enough time from the Government to drop you each a few lines, just to show you how much I appreciate it, even though I haven’t much to write or at least have so much that I give up writing any of it and wait for the times when we are once more together to tell them.  Since it is not our luck or duty to occupy the land we have recovered and what we have won, I hope we are in line to be some of the first to be home after those who are sick or wounded.  Of course, that will probably be several months, but I think we ought to spend the next Fourth of July in the land where it originated as a holiday.  The weather here now is about like our rainy November weather home. It freezes every night and sometimes the roads stay frozen.  Most of the day as well.  In fact the last two days have been quite cold.  Now I’m at the end of the space, so I’ll just close with love and Happy Christmas greetings to my dear Dad.  Write again soon to your loving son, George Sherwood

Dearest Mother a Soldier Ever Had;  I’m writing you last, but you are far from least in my thot’s if you are in kilograms (I pause to weep for the bygone days of pounds).  And talking about pounds someway reminds me to suggest that as soon as they ease up on the sugar a little you might make a dainty little fruit cake of eight or ten lb size and wrap it up to put the Xmas finish on that fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years – Easter – Prodigal Returned Repast, I have casually mentioned every time I wrote and dreamed about which the Kaiser and the kindred Rats and Cooties let me dream.  I think this will be the last thing I request until I write again.

            I sent Daddy a card and you a little French apron which I hope you will have received for your Xmas [illegible] arrive.  I also hope you receive the summary of My Travels in France which I mailed to Dad a few days ago.  All things over here point to the fact that we have actually largely accomplished the first part and talk over here and really made the German People sick of the War.  Four weeks ago I would not have believed that so complete a success could reward our and YOUR efforts so very soon.  So the joyful surprise of it is a regular Birthday Gift to me, as was your lovely letter.  I doubt however, if we felt or celebrated the Victory with the same abandon shown in the States, for we realized there was much left to do yet, and the emotions do not flare or respond so easily after the overwork and curbing they have received in six months of this. 
            But it will be a Happy, Happy Xmas for us all if we can only be together in spirit this time, so enjoy it to the utmost for your loving son, George. 

 

Dear Brother,

            I guess I owe you a letter if I do anyone so I will just send you a Christmas letter.  You don’t know how I appreciate the letters and notes you write to me personally, and I hope you will continue to write to me once in awhile.  The folks write you have the barn all painted.  By the time I get back I won’t know the place. Suppose by now you have opened up the silo and the calf “is starting to get properly fatted for the Prodigal’s return!”  Can you imagine it?  I am working in an Army Office now.  Rather I should say a Regimental Office.  Am glad I didn’t get roped into it until after the Armistice was signed, as it don’t look like I was trying to duck shells and line work. 
            I wonder if you have snow there yet?  We have had just enough here to make the ground white one night and it was gone soon after daylight.  I am wondering if we shall see much of the Real France:  even now there are only a few of the war refugees back this far up, and the wreck of war, even tho the area is already salvaged of all useful debris, lends a very gloomy atmosphere to what must have been a very beautiful and picturesque country.  Will close now with a Very Hearty Wish that you all enjoy a Merry Xmas and Happy New Year to amply reward you for the victory you have helped us win.
                                               Brother George
 

Dear little Sister:
            Now here goes for your share of this Xmas letter. I got your birthday letter to me day before yesterday, and read it with much pleasure both then and today.  Then the mail today bro’t me your letter of the 12^th November, and one from Aunt Nellie, besides the Keystone for Nov 7^th so I have had a very enjoyable day.  I have a slight cold now, but it is better today.  Oh, I forgot. One of the boys in the office got his Xmas Package today, so we celebrated with that too.  I am very anxious to see the new pen and from your description it must be a dandy.  I never intended to make you all of that trouble tho. 
            I was very shocked to learn of Mrs. Smith’s death.  I got a letter from Jo, dated the 7^th and she spoke of her mother being too sick to move, but even then I didn’t think it was so bad as later events proved. Poor kid, I haven’t heard from her since naturally, but I sent her a Xmas letter which I hope won’t make her blue instead of help. 
            I have sent you a little Xmas souvenir under another cover, which I hope you receive. If you don’t just let me know.  That list of good things for the “Returned Warrior” makes my mouth water.  My but time goes slow now, doesn’t it.  But say, you are a joy killer.  Here I have my mind made up to celebrate the 4^th in the States and you say you hope we can get home by next Thanksgiving.  Well, here I’ve written a whole page and said nothing so I’ll close with wishes for a Merry Xmas & Happy New Year over the New Kitchen cabinet. Your loving file clerk – Geo.

December 19, 1918 -- George Plays Pied Piper and Visits a Mansion

Senningen, Luxembourg 19/12/18

 

Dear Ones At Home:

            It seems a long time since I wrote you last, so now I’ve a little time I’m going to have a good visit with you.  Since we left Tilly we have been constantly on the move, till now as you see we are well up into Luxembourg.  A large map would show you this town about 12 Kilometer east of the city of Luxembourg. 

            We left Tilly on Dec 7^th, the office moving by truck directly to Droitmannt (near Conflaus).  Of course that put us well back of the lines the German had evacuated by terms of the Armistice.  Droitmannt is one of the mining colony towns of the French mining district.  The houses on our side of the River were quite comfortable and fairly quaint in architecture, but they were all exactly alike outside, like some of our factory residence in the states.  However, it was a new departure after the nondescript houses and crooked streets of the older French Villages we had been through and occupied.  The houses had been left frightfully dirty by the departing Germans, but we cleaned up some of the rooms enough so that we used them. 

            We were there for a day and a half.  While there I was lucky enough to get down into the main mine.  Went down with a Frenchman who was taking pictures of the bases from which Jerry had removed pumps and motors.  We were down 600 feet in the Motor room and main tunnels.  I think the French and Germans go in for more permanence and comfort in their mining than we do, for all of the main tunnels are bricked and the large motor room I spoke of is cement lined and floored, so that it always gives the same effect as parts of New York’s subway world. 

            The Germans had been working the mine since they captured it four years ago, removing plenty of iron ore to be used against the Allies. When they left they disabled the pumps, but the French got in soon enough to repair the damage before it was badly flooded, so we found the mine nice and dry, except around the main shaft, where it was like a rain storm.                                        *  *  *  *  Medernack, Luxembourg, 20/12 – 18

            Well, here I am 20 hours later in a town 30 kilo north of where I started this letter.  So geht es in Krieg.  When I started this I was in a most beautiful Chateau and hunting lodge of a French Banker, now I am at the poor little school house of this village occupying the desk and seat of the erstwhile demagogue.  Well to return to the thread of our latest tour.  We left Droitmannt on the 3^rd evening there and landed at the Hospital in Brily where we had a good feed and a cot to sleep on, then away again with the office baggage to Mont Bonvilliers.  There we stayed a day and night then moved to Havange.  All the way along we were confronted by the effects of 4 years Prussianism and the final evacuation.  At Havange I started trying a little of my German and was surprised a little at my indifferent success but I only tried it a little as we landed there late and left early the next morning.  Then we crossed in to Luxembourg proper, passed through a couple of good seized towns, and located in Kayl, near Esch and about 15 kilos from Luxembourg City.  Ours was the first truck in, and was soon surrounded by a horde of children. I started to talk a little with them and soon discovered that those who had learned German in the schools understood me very well, and I could understand their simple language too. I surely was delighted as six months in France where you seldom saw a civilian and then had to use an interpreter was getting very tiresome.  I soon had a following of kids to equal the Pied Piper, and was able to locate stores, latrines, cafes and drinking water.  One little fellow with a red French cap was my especial adorer and as he had a gang of four or five pals I always had an escort if I stepped out of our office for even a moment. In fact, a couple of times it was slightly embarrassing, but I didn’t have the heart to hurt their feelings.  The towns and people of Luxembourg seem to have suffered few more privations than you in the States and have had almost as many in the French as the German Army, I understand.  It is the most beautiful country I have seen in Europe so far.  The house where we had our office was still the home of civilians who were quite nice people and had some interesting talks with the Herr.  They had a very cute little girl too, who was the pet of the office.  We slept in a real bed there, and when we left they did not want to take any pay, but I gave them 5 francs (to buy the little girl a Xmas present). 

            In fact, everyone treated us fine in Kayl. And I’m proud to say that the boys stood up to the test fine, there being very little abuse of people’s kindness or the extra privileges reported.  On Sunday 14^th Dec. we left Kayl and went to Alsingen about six miles from Luxembourg.  After a night stand there we went on to Senningen where I started this letter.  That Chateau was undoubtedly the best and richest I have been in in Europe.  The owner, being an Officer de la France had not been there for four years, but the caretaker had kept it up as well as possible.  There were beds in the rooms, a pool and gaming room, a dance room, a sun parlor and all such trimmings, with hunting trophies and such things galore.  The surrounding grounds were landscaped in a style to delight mother’s heart.  The lodge itself is up in the hills, secluded from the road, screened by evergreens and was well above the town in a ravine on the hillside.  The immediate grounds on one side stretch up toward the road with trees here and there, a real waterfall at the edge, the brook then dancing and roaring down diagonally by the lodge in a series of falls and cascades. 

            We moved from there directly up here the evening of the 19^th, passed through some very fine country, but could see little of it, it was so dark.  It snowed that P.M. and evening quite a bit, but the only place any of it stayed was the grassy hillsides.  It has been a very mild autumn here the inhabitants say. 

            I have spent nearly the whole day in trying to act as interpreter for the various little activities and transactions that the office and Regiment must carry on with the civilian population.  There are hundreds in the Regt. I guess who can do as well and many who can talk many times better than I, but being here at work and handy much of it seems to devolve on me.  I get away with it for the most part, and my vocabulary is slowing increasing, but it is slow work and I wish every hour of the day for a good little pocket English German – German-English dictionary, so far have been unable to find one, but am keeping on the lookout, as I will probably have to fill in a little that way as long as we stay up here and I remain in the office.  Anyway, I’ll always want to talk with people when I get a chance, on my own book. 

            I think some of the fellows are jealous of even my polyglot Deutsch for this morning I went out to borrow a table and got me a present of six apples from the people thrown in with the table.  Pretty good when they pay you for asking them for something. 

            We can scarcely make it seem possible that Xmas is only four days off.  The weather is very much different and there is none of the festive air and preparatory bustle to offset it, as there was in the States last year.  But if we can scarcely notice the difference in holidays and no difference Sunday, we will just chalk that much more up to the Celebration when “Johnnie Comes Marching Home.”  A Sient was up here today with replacements from Angers, and bro’t regards from Lt. Mohr who has been back there ever since he came over.  I sent back a note with him as Lloyd has received none of the mail I have sent him.  Now I’ll close with love to all my dear ones.  Don’t forget Auntie is included                  

                                                                                                George Sherwood

                                                                                                            108^th Eng.

 

[Below see censor approval and  signature on the side.  George’s last name and the 108^th Engineers was added in censor handwriting as well. George was writing in blue ink on cream paper, censor wrote in dark brown fountain pen ink.]

 

November 28, 1918 -- Thansgiving Letter and The Stories Begin At Last

 14^th.  Somewhere in France. THANKSGIVING* ‘18

Tilly sur Meuse, France. 28^th November, 1918.

DEAR ONES ALL

            Here goes my first letter since the Censorship loosened up and I’ll try to make it a little Diary of my travel since I left Camp Merritt, New York, U.S.A. on that memorable morning of May 7^th, 1918.  We had our moving orders the night before, so were all packed up even to our blankets, but were sleeping more or less fitfully under our overcoats when the clear notes of Reveille roused us for the last time on American soil.  Soon we were eating our last mess there, and then, just as the sun began to tint the east with rosy dawn, assembly blew, and with shouldered packs and rifles we silently swung out through the mist on our “March to the Sea.”  It was a night to be long remembered as those long lines of silent men marched out through the deserted streets of the sleeping camp, the only sound breaking the stillness, the thud of marching feet, the metallic clang of rifle or bayonet, or the muffled tones of occasional commands.  After a march of about six miles, MOST of it uphill, we came out on the Palisades of the Hudson R. above New  York city.  Below us several hundred feet lay the little pier of Alpine and how aptly named can only be appreciated by one who has made the precipitous descent with packs and heavy marching equipment as we did.

This is a public domain photo of the USS George Washington that was taken off the coast of France in early May 1818.  From timing of letters and photo, it is very likely that George was on this ship when the photo was taken.

            After a short wait here, the Newburgh (river boat) took us for a cruise down the Hudson to the piers where we were immediately loaded on the U.S. S. George Washington.  The last thing we did in the States was eat a Red Cross Bun and drink a Red Cross coffee.  They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and I guess that is right as I have had a soft place in my heart for that worthy institution ever since.  We lay in the harbor for a day, then all were ordered below and with decks clear we were tugged out by the Statue of Liberty and the George Washington started once more  [toward] Sunny France.

            For ten days all we saw was water, water, water and the other ships of our convoy.  There were only three of us till we got well in to the danger zone, then we were picked up by some little torpedo boat destroyers.  The last morning out we were wakened at four A.M. by the submarine siren and stood to at Abandon Ship stations for about an hour while we put back out to sea a little way and the destroyers did some hasty maneuvering but neither we nor the supposedly sighted sub were hurt.  Then about eleven A.M. we sighted the most westerly point of France and sailed up the beautiful harbor of Brest.  We disembarked with the first of the lighters which came out to us at about four P.M. of May 18th.  We were stationed at Pontanezen Barracks; about five kilometers from Brest.  These Barracks are supposed to be an old convent made over to accommodate Napoleon’s troops.  They are old stone Buildings and tho in fair repair their appearance and the stone wall all around them seem to bear out the statements regarding their age and history.  Here we first learned to think and speak in terms of kilometers and francs, and to eat beans and goldfish (salmon).

            After a week in Brest we entrained and after a trip of two days on the odd little trains of France found ourselves in Oisemont, about 30 kilos northwest of Amiens.  We only bivouacked there one night and then moved on to Avenes, where we stayed three weeks while we got used to the sound of cannon, and were equipped with British guns and gas masks.  The first night we were there we were treated to a real Hun air raid.  As I was still orderly at that time I was billeted in the Chateau Avenes, my first introduction to a real French chateau.  From there we hiked to Araines where we entrained and went some 30 kilos to Poulainville[1].  Got there about noon and by night were in our shelter tents in Pierrigot.  Our camp was in a grassy orchard and was nice and clean for about three days, then it began to rain and we soon learned to appreciate what we had read of the Somme mud.  We also learned our first lessons of experience with shells and bombs.  This was supposed to be a training period for our Div (the 33^rd), but it would be hard to tell it from a regular campaign.  At the end of this period we were brot together as a Regiment at Quarian Woods, about ten kilos from Amiens[2].  During our stay with the British the work of the lines companies was mostly done on and back of the line from Albert[3] toward Amiens.  While we were there I made arrangements to quit work with the Major as I could see nothing in it, and hoped to really get into a little more by getting away from the stables and horses for while.  I might stop here to say that I saw such towns as Villers Bocage, Beaucourt, Contay, Vignacourt and last but not least Amiens (Cathedral[4] and all) while we were in this sector.  We entrained at Amiens on August 25^th and the next morning found us just passing through the outskirts of Paris.  That afternoon we ran into the Chateau Thierry[5] district , through the town itself and out along the river beyond where such fierce fighting had been done a couple of weeks before.  The towns and villages we saw and passed through that afternoon were total wrecks, the stark crumbled walls of churches and homes bearing eloquently mute testimony regarding the ruthlessness of the War Gods.  At two A.M. we arrived at our destination at Ligny where we at once unloaded. I saddled the horses and at 4 A.M. we moved out of town in formation.  Not much like the ponderous moves we used to make in our training days in the States.  I shall never forget that morning when we entered the sleeping little town of Ménil sur Saulk [Saulx].  I was sent on ahead on my horse to look up the billeting officer we had sent on the day before.  I had lost my cap from the train so was compelled to wear my steel helmet, and with a knapsack of the Major’s equipment slung at my side, raincoat partially hiding the identity of my uniform, and spurs on my feet, I probably cut quite a warlike figure. Anyway that is the only reason I can imagine for the look of amazement I created on the countenance of the first simple French woman I roused in the town.  You see it was just breaking day as I rode into the village and even the ever-present M.P. was not in evidence, as we were the first American Troops to billet in that town.  So I rode up to the door of the only house showing a light and knocked loudly. The face of a woman showed for an instant at the window then was as hastily withdrawn and the light extinguished.  But in that fleeting glance I had seen such a mixture of incredulous amazement and fear that I thot then, and have still an idea, she took me for a German Uhlan[6] as I stood there holding my horse in the uncertain light of dawn.  AT any rate I got no more response tho I knocked loud and long again.  So I mounted my trusty steed again and did a Paul Revere down the cobble paved street, across the quaint old bridge to the other side of town where I got a surprise.  I saw a fairly elderly man walking in the street just as I crossed the bridge, so I rode up to him and said in my badly mutilated French, “Bon Zwar, Monsieur. Parlez vous Anglais.”  What was my surprise when he replied, “Nein, aber Deutsch.”  I had tried a few times to talk to some of the French in German before but had long since given it up as the language was so very unpopular.  This is the only time I have used it to any advantage since I landed but I got along famously as the man’s vocabulary seemed to be almost as limited as mine.  At any rate I was able to get what little information he had to offer and by ten A.M. our Battalion was all in the village and comfortably billeted.  Being the first Americans in the town we were quite popular while there.  In less than a week we moved to an adjoining town known as Stainville where we staid four days and where I gave up my work as orderly for the Major. I celebrated my return to the ranks of Hdqts. Co. by working all day as runner, then rolling my pack and  hiking full equipment to our next stop at Gary (or Gery) a distance of about 18 miles.  That is the longest and the hardest hike of my army career and I’m satisfied to let it hold first place for the rest of my life, tho I believe I could do a few better if I knew every step was taking me HOME. 

            A few  days at Gery, then a short hike one evening and we loaded on a French Truck Train and after an all night ride of some sixty kilos we landed at Blercourt, and marched back to Nixeville Wood and billeted in some French Barracks where the size of the cooties was exceeded only by their appetites.  The accepted my unwilling hospitality forthwith and have been very faithful ever since in spite of repeated hints and rebuffs.  As soon as our stock and transport caught up with us we moved to Sivry-la-Perche where we had our headquarters for about a week. While there we were shelled two night s in earnest.  Then we moved to Ft. de Sartelles for about a week.  All three of the last named places are within 12 kilometers of VERDUN.  The line Cos. had now been in the lines for two weeks and rumors of a drive in the sector they had just taken over from the French north of Verdun on the Meuse R. were prevalent.  There were batteries of artillery in the woods on all sides of us and three 12” Naval Guns mounted on the railroad in the back of us were all ready for action.  On the morning of Sept. 26 we were awakened in our dugouts by what felt like a young earth-quake, and from the steady roar and tremble of the ground knew that the guns had opened up the barrage for the drive that was destined to liberate the hills of Verdun from the Huns.  I was Regt. runner that day and believe me the suspense was fierce, wondering how they were getting along up at the line, wishing I might be there.  The smaller batteries of the Fort and in the woods near and far kept up a deafening roar, punctuated occasionally by the bellow of the 12 inch Navals back of us, or a Jerry shell at long intervals. The letter you got from me dated Sept 26 was written while the barrage was going on and the first step of that momentous drive was drawing to a close some ten kilometers north-east of where I sat writing between runs. That afternoon the order came for every available man in Headquarters to go up to the front and help in the emergency so we were loaded into trucks, and up we went to Cumiers.  I was in the village 10 min before I knew it was a village which is eloquent proof of what was left of it.

            The two weeks we spent up there were the pleasantest I have spent in France for tho we were only operating an engineer dump and working on the roads it was a mans size job and we were making it possible for our infantry to hold what they had gained and prepare to drive Jerry still farther back out of the hills where the French had striven so hard for the last three years.  Well, the next move was back to Germonville, where I worked as telephone orderly and runner until we moved out of the lines, through Verdun to Dugney.  After a few days there we moved down there and the line Cos. moved up into the lines in sight of the Metz.  Things were just promising to get interesting down in this sector when Kaiser Bill Capitualted and Marshal Foch[7] was able to make a peaceful entrée into delivered Metz, instead of the warlike one that was inevitable soon.  If you cannot find the name of this village on the map just follow the Meuse R down about 20 kilometers and you will have pretty closet t our present location.

            There is little doubt that the war is over as the terms of the Armistice make it suicide for Germany to make a false move, so now we will try to be good soldiers and patiently do the hardest part of all – wait until the victory won at so much sacrifice on both sides of the pond is secured beyond shadow of doubt for all time.  Then how happily will we return to you all and those civilian pursuits we temporarily laid down that the right to follow them might be preserved, not only to the States but to the World.  So hurry up and prepare the “fatted calf.” 

            With love and hope for a speedy return to God’s Country and our loved Ones.

                                                                        George S. Sherwood

                                                                        Pvt. 1/Class

Censored

WmAPeterson
CaptUSA                                           

---

[1] Situated on the N25 road, less than 3 miles north of Amiens.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poulainville

[2] Amiens is a city and commune in northern France, 120 km (75 mi) north of Paris. It is the capital of the Somme department in Picardie.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amiens.  The Battle of Amiens, which began on 8 August 1918, was the opening phase of the Allied offensive later known as the Hundred Days Offensive that ultimately led to the end of World War I. Allied forces advanced over seven miles on the first day, one of the greatest advances of the war.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Amiens

[3] Albert was founded as a Roman outpost called Encre, in about 54 BC. It is remembered today as the site of the Battle of the Somme in World War I.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albert,_Somme

[4] See photo of the Cathedral at http://en.structurae.de/photos/index.cfm?JS=68732

[5] The Battle of Château-Thierry was fought on July 18, 1918 and was one of the first actions involving the United States American Expeditionary Force (AEF) under General John J. "Black Jack" Pershing. It was a battle in World War I as part of the Second Battle of the Marne, initially prompted by a German offensive launched on July 15 against the newest troops on the front, the American AEF.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Ch%C3%A2teau-Thierry_(1918)  

[6] See example at http://flickr.com/photos/33784579@N05/3217736015/in/pool-73218976@N00/page2/

[7] Ferdinand Foch (Breton pronounced "Fosh"). OM GCB (2 October 1851 – 20 March 1929) was a French soldier, military theorist, and writer credited with possessing "the most original and subtle mind in the French army" in the early 20th century.^[1] He served as general in the French army during World War I and was made Marshal of France in its final year, 1918. Shortly after the start of the Spring Offensive, Germany's final attempt to win the war, Foch was chosen as supreme commander of the Allied armies, a position that he held until 11 November 1918, when he accepted the German request for an armistice.  He advocated peace terms that would make Germany unable to ever pose a threat to France again. His words after the Treaty of Versailles, "This is not a peace. It is an armistice for 20 years" would prove prophetic.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ferdinand_Foch

November 24, 1918 -- Dad's Day Letter; Censorship May be Winding Down

 Mr. Wm Sherwood                                                                       14^th Somewhere in France

(Best Dad in the world)                                                                         24^th November 1918
Kendall, Wisconsin

Dear Dad,

            Watch the rest of them all turn green with envy when you get this (my first individual letter to any of you for a long time I’m afraid).  Now I guess I’d better hurry up and explain before they get sore, as it is very near to Christmas and I’d hate to ruin any prospects you or I might have.  But you see, I have learned to be a good soldier, and obey orders, so when it was officially announced that this was “Dad’s” day and we were ordered to comply with requirements and drop a line to “Dad” you can see how I was up against it, so maybe you will explain to the rest – enough so as to keep me in good till Xmas anyway.

            We have had no official word of less stringent Censorship so as usual this will have to bear the same resemblance to a letter that a dried apples does to a real one.

            Well, what do you think of the way we did up our little job of chastising Fritz.  When he gets through swallowing the terms of the Armistice I think he will take the bitter pills of “Peace Terms” without a whimper, and I’m sure the dose should be a very effective and lasting cure for the chronic complications of Kulture, Kaiser, and Militarism he has suffered with so long.  Of course, the amputation of Alsace Lorraine will be necessary, but we hope he may survive even that.  I sure would enjoy to be home this winter, but guess we better wait awhile as he might gag a little at the “Peace Pills” and someone must be here to help Doc Wilson and Colleagues hold his nose again while they are administered.  

            However, you may start feeding up the “fatted calf” so he will be in good rig when the prodigal does return.  Give him plenty of ensilage, etc. so he will make nice juicy steaks.  

            I got the Thanksgiving letter today.  Believe me, I did enjoy it. Of course I’m keeping it to read Thanksgiving Day again, but I just couldn’t wait so thot I’d start being Thankful right away.   We all certainly have much to be Thankful for this year.  I know from the tone of your letter you didn’t really expect to have “The End of The War” on the head of your list – and neither did I.  None of us realized how close the collapse of Prussianism was. 

            Well, as the orders to write “Dad” didn’t contain an clause detailing us any extra time to do it in I am stealing it from my sleep but my eyes and brain are both getting heavy, so I better close this with bucco love to “Dad” and “All.” 

                                                            Your Loving Son,
                                                                        George 

November 18, 1918 - Sweet Agnes Succumbs to Influenza

Whenever I run across young family members from past generations who never got to live a normal lifetime I like to take special note of them.  While WWI was the headline news  around the world, up in Vermont a distant family had to pass on the sad news of their personal casualty in the never ending battles of between life and death.  For those who never had a chance to grow up and pass on their stories to another generation, I love to give them a moment's recognition that they loved and were loved by their own families.  Agnes M Richardson was born in 1903 and died at age 15 in 1918. George's mother Ella Jane and William the writer of this note were first cousins and George and Agnes were the next generations in each family.   Rest in peace sweet Agnes; you are not forgotten.

West Topsham, VT

Nov 18^th --- 18

Dear Cousins,

            I do not know whether I owe you a letter or you me one but we don’t want to forget each other.  How are you folks.  I hope you are well.  We have been very sick here. The children have been sick with the Influenza[1], our youngest child, Agnes, died four weeks tonight with pneumonia. She was 15 years last spring, it is awful to part with her. She was always so gentle and sweet all the time, but God’s ways are not our ways, it seems to take all joy out of our lives. The others are better but gain very slow. I saw your Uncle James Welch the day of elections.  He asked me to write you.  He said he was coming out and see you and wanted you to send him a card.

            Our second daughter Christia was married the 12^th of Nov and started for Minneapolis, Minn.  Dora will remember her. And she will remember Agnes too, she was a baby when she was here.  We may be out to see Christia in the spring and stop and see you.  How is Aunt Eva, tell her to write us.

                                    Love to you all,

                                                W. C. Richardson

                                                West Topsham

                                                RFD1   Vt

---

[1] Likely the “Spanish Flu” as it was known.  See interesting Wikipedia article http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spanish_flu

November 16, 1918 -- Ideals and Peace Bells

14^th Somewhere in France.16/11/’18

Dear Sister & All:

            Horray.  Mere words are futile to express my (and I might say our) feelings as the Armistice and the Political Revolution in Germany progress, and we realize that  the things and IDEALS the ALLIES have so nobly fought and sacrificed for are actually beginning to be realized.  While in name it is only an Armistice, the terms, and the attitude of the German soldiers and Government is our greatest assurance that the fighting and blood-shed is over, and that once more PEACE BELLS can chime out a real message of “Good Will to MEN” on Christmas Day. 

            I can scarcely realize yet that the guns are really ALL still for the first time in four long years, and once in awhile I stop and listen to the QUIET that reigns, to convince myself that I am not dreaming.  That may sound rather queer, but after six months of the ceaseless roar of cannon and shell one can almost hear and feel the stillness.  So tho in the light of present events, we may be unable to give the folks back home much in the line of material gifts, I hope we can at least give you a VICTORIOUS PEACE for which the Democratic world has sacrificed so much.  And after, what could be more fitting GIFT to commemorate the birth of Him who gave His life for the same ideals of Brotherhood, Charity, and Equality the Allies have successfully preserved. 

            So in case the mails are delayed and this is the last letter you receive from me before the holidays, I’ll just take this opportunity to wish you ALL a MERRY XMAS AND a VERY JOYFUL NEW-YEAR. And tho I can’t be with you in the flesh I’ll be there in spirit and any little or big worry you may have felt for my safety must be laid on the shelf while you prepare that Celebration for the day when “Johnnie comes marching home.” 

            I continue to get the Keystone regularly and sure enjoy them.  We saw some real American vaudeville the other night.  One joke was so very appropriate that I remember it:  An old darky Captain noticed that his men were continually scratching so he lined them up in company front one morning to investigate.  The following monologue is significant. “Ah thinks some ‘o you uns be’n got cooties.  All dat am ma’ch strait forrud. ** COMPANY HALT.”  [In the next few weeks George will be sharing his OWN on-going personal experience with "cooties."] I expect that unless we go away forward as part of the army of occupation we will see a good many much entertainments, as there are several troupes of entertainers over here now.

            Well, I intended to make this a nice longer letter as it has been so long since I wrote you, but I seem to have run out of ideas again, so I think I had best bring this to a close before I make any more bad breaks in spelling. Once more, three rousing cheers for the good old “STAR SPANGLED BANNER.” 

                                    Love and Best Wishes to You All, GSS

P.S.  Just a little line to let you know that the moon is doing his duty these nights, and to thank you for the letter you forwarded from Margaret and Dora.  This letter is a carbon coy of one I sent her, so don’t send it on to her, as I know she would never forgive me while you may.  Don’t you think it is nice and handy to have a sister at each home, so all I need to say is “Dear Sister & All” and go right on pounding the keys.  I started this letter, or at least one to you folks, three times before I got this done.  Have really been too busy to write.

                                                With love again to all, George Sherwood