March 30, 1918 - Spending Time at the Rifle Range

The date of this letter is unknown and it was likely earlier than this, but since George had recently written about the possibility of having to go to the rifle range, thought that this would be a good place to add it in and in particularly  before they left Texas for "Somewhere in France."  I likely used this photo before, but since it is so appropriate for this letter here it is again.  I enjoy his style of writing!

  Rifle Range Camp, Tues eve

Houston, Texas

Dear Home Folks:

            Imagine a dirty white tent without a floor, set on a plain, under starry Texas sky, in rows with several hundred other tents.  Across the railroad track and road imagine these long grim, silent trenches with large banks of raw sand thrown up in front of them thirty feet high.

            Now peep inside this dirty white tent and imagine a dirty white boy sitting on a dirty white cot, writing on a dirty white sheet of paper laid upon the back of a mess kit.  Beside him is a flaring dirty white candle which sheds a dirty yellow light.  Have you caught the picture?  If not, put a little sand between your teeth and grit them to enhance the reality of the scene. 

            Yes, that object on the cot is yours truly.  I don’t need to mention that the dirty sheet of paper is this letter do I?

            Sunday we got up at 5 AM and marched out here, starting at 7:-- and arriving at 9:30.  Spent the rest of the forenoon getting settled.  Had an early dinner and started shooting at 12:30.  It surely didn’t seem much like Sunday by the time we got thru.  I shot the first course, 35 rounds and got 133 out of a possible 175.  A score of 105 was required to qualify, so I got by easy.  But in course 2 yesterday  morning I fell down, getting only 5 out of 15 shots a the head targets.  9 were required so suppose I will have to fire it again some time.  Think I can do better, but I had an extra poor-colored target and it didn’t show clear up, so with my slightly bum eyesight I was badly impaired on the last two ranges. Yesterday afternoon and this forenoon I scored on the firing line for Target 117.  We have been shooting with bayonets fixed this time.  The guns sure look formidable when they are all equipped with bayonet and sling.  But I guess it is good policy to get us used to the looks and hang of them as soon as possible or some of us might get cold feet in action.  The new gun I have now does not kick much, and shoots very well, for which I am properly thankful.  The slings help about holding the guns too.  So my shoulder isn’t sore at all.

            We expect to go back to camp tomorrow.  I packed this paper out here on my back so you ought to appreciate this letter, if it is dirty and scribbled with the stump of a pencil.

            This has been an awful day.  About 11:00 the wind came up and blew a regular Texas Gale.  For awhile the dust and sand was so thick that one could scarce see over a couple of hundred feet, and the mess dishes filled up with sand so fast that one couldn’t eat what he did get.  Then if you tried to wash your dishes they got coated with dust just black before one could dry them.  I was lucky enough to buy a pie and bottle of milk which of course were protected till I got into the tent.  It sure tasted good.  

            Well, my pencil is worn down, the paper is giving out and it is nearly taps, so I will close with a lot of love.  May God bless my dear folks.

                                                                        George