Letters from The Great War
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In commemoration of the 100th anniversary of World War I, this is part three of a three-part series with letters written by World War I military members from Ward County and other area counties.
Letters from The Great War is a project conducted by students of Joseph T. Stuart, associate professor of history at the University of Mary in Bismarck. Students researched archives at the North Dakota Heritage Center to provide transcripts for use by the North Dakota Newspaper Association and the North Dakota World War I Centennial Committee.
Renville County
Editor's Note: The following letter was written by Roy Grinnell, who was stationed in Germany, to his parents, Mr. and Mrs. W.E. Grinnell. Roy has been in most of the big scraps across the pond, being a member of the division that held the first American sector which was near Toul. It was published in the Tolley Journal on Feb. 13, 1918.
Weidenhahn, Germany.
Dear Folks: Well I am heartily ashamed of myself for not writing sooner. It must be more than a month now since I wrote. But we were on the march up from Verdun to our present position about 30 kilometers north east of Coblenz, in Rhineish Prussia; so there is some excuse for not writing before.
I got a few letters from home last night, the latest of which was dated Nov. 25th. I have been getting magazines and newspapers quite regularily [sic] of late. In fact I believe that the last two weeks I have got at least 25 magazines. They surely were very welcome.
I am surprised to notice from your letter of the 17th of Nov. that you were seemingly worrying for fear I had got back to the front again before peace had been signed and possibly been hurt again as you hadn't heard from me for some few weeks. I didn't get back to my outfit until the 16th of November just in time to start forward with my outfit in the hike to the Rhine. I was in a replacement camp at LeMans near Tours in France when the armistice was signed.
Winter has set in here now to stay, I guess. We had about half an inch of snow Christmas and it stayed with us. It is fairly cold here now and I think it will snow again tonight by the looks of the sky. We are comfortably housed however so the cold mean nothing to us. We are billeted in an unused cafe and have a good stove and plenty of firewood so we do very well. I am feeling wonderfully well now days too.
We had a pretty fair Christmas for being so far from home. We went out in the woods and cut a small pine tree and decorated it with odds and ends we picked up around the billets, such as tin foil, bright colored paper etc. Then we borrowed a piano, mandolin and a violin and had lots of music and songs. In the evening we got a couple of sacks of mail which took the place of Christmas presents. Last Christmas was surely a lonesome one in Winchester, England. Next will be the best of all as I will be home again.
You say you never received the coupon for my Christmas package. I was in the hospital at Bordeaux then and for some reason or other they didn't issue them there. I believe you can get them from the local Red Cross chapter by swearing that you have not as yet received them from Jack and me.
I have surely seen a lot of country on foot the last month and a half. Just look at map of Europe and locate Verdun in France, then trace a route thru the corner of German Lorraine, thru the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, by way of the capital city, to the part of the Luxembourg boundary that is formed by the Moselle River. There we crossed the river into Germany and followed the course of the Moselle to where it joined the Rhine at Coblenz. There we crossed the Rhine, on the 13th of the present month it was, and proceeded north east about 20 miles to the little town where we are now located. We were from the 17th of November to the 15th of December on the march, except for a week or so that we stopped along the Moselle on the Luxembourg border.
I wonder if I ever told you what division I am in. It is the 1st Division, composed of the 16th, 18th, 26th and 28th Infantry the 5th, 6th and 7th Field Artillery, the 1st Amm. Train, 1st supply Train etc. Our division was the first to go to the trenches as you may know. They went into the trenches in late October, 1917 near Nancy where they stayed about a month. That was a training sector only. They occupied the first American Sector on the 19th of Jan. 1918 near Toul. That was shortly after I joined them so it was my first experience in the trenches.
It was the 28th Infantry of our division that took Cantiguy [sic] on May 28th. Our division fought at Soissons from July 18th to 22nd in which we had some very tough fighting with the Prussian Guards who put up a stiff resistance. We also fought at St. Mihiel, the Argonne Front and in the last drive of the war that took them to Sedan. I was unfortunate enough to miss the Sedan scrap as I was in the hospital as you know with the scratch I got in the Argonne.
However perhaps I was fortunate because if I hadn't been slightly wounded I might have got bumped off in the later scraps.
I hope Clyde don't move to Minneapolis as he intends. I am sure he wouldn't like it very well.
Well I guess this is the longest letter I have ever written and am tired so will close for this time.
Love to all.
Roy
Editor's Note: This letter was written by Gus Land in France to his friends back home, saying that he hasn't had much to do since the fighting ended and that his letter was the most work he's done in days. It was published in the Mohall Tribune-News on March 20, 1919.
Chateauroux, France,
Feb. 8th 1919.
Friends: Have considered writing a letter to my home town newspaper quite a long while but have never been able to wind up enough courage to start. We have nothing to do except eat, sleep, and get up in the morning; the latter is by far the hardest job I have because I surely do like my bunk when reveille is heard. The last two mornings, however, have been without reveille as our trumpeter has taken sick with the "Flu" and sent to the hospital. Several others have gone also so that he is not alone in his suffering. The company has been quarantined and relieved of guard duty and that accounts for us not having anything to do except sit around the fire and tell stories and lies and what not.
When we first came to this camp things were not in as good a shape as might be wished for. I have reference to our bunks in our barracks. They were bunks all right, but our idea of a bunk did not quite compare with the fellow's who built them. During the day we had seen huge piles of lumber in the camp and so our commander asked the army quartermaster for some lumber. The request was refused. "All right," thought we, "It will soon be evening." Evening came and we organized a lumber detail. In an hour's time we had all the lumber we wanted. No one came to take it away either. Stove wood details have also been organized and marched off after dark to return with a week's supply of wood. Leave it to the Marines. They help themselves if there is no one who wants to give them any thing [sic]. The "doughboys" seem to have gotten our number lately. They call us the 11th Regiment of thieves. How near correct they are only a marine in the 11th., [sic] Regiment knows. The Americans in France have rather rough traveling at times. Especially in regard to prices of articles they want to buy. The French have three prices on their stuff: one price to the French, which is very low and reasonable, another, a little higher, to the British soldiers, and still a third price for the Americans which is three times what they ask for it from the French. I know of instance to prove what they say. When I first came here I was short of writing paper and the first time I was in town I bought a box of stationery for six francs, ($1.20). A box full of stationey [sic] did not last long as other used paper from the same box and so the next time I went to town I decided to buy another box. Loafing on the streets of Chateauroux for a while before making our purchase. I met a French soldier who could speak English fluently. We had a nice conversation and incidently [sic] told him what we wanted to buy. He told us we had paid too much for it and at the same time offered to go in and buy one for me while we remained outside. He came back in about five minutes later with the same kind of a box of stationery as I had bought before for six francs. The soldier paid two and a half francs for the stationery.
Wines and beers have the same difference in prices to Americans and French. It is often to the regret of the vender to charge too much for his wines because it very often happens when a gang comes to buy, one or two others will slip around and get into the cellar and carry away as much as their pockets will hold. Every farm house in the country is a wine shop and wine can be bought at any time. In many places the boys can buy whiskey and beer. The French don't drink water and laugh at an American for taking a dring [sic] of water. A French soldier fills his canteen with wine instead of water as the Americans do.
There are many customs that seem very queer to us. Especially the way they do their farm work. Time is no object to the French farmer. There is a day coming tomorrow for him that contains just as many hours as today and what is the use of hurrying too much, he thinks. They can't do all the work now. That have sons growing who take up their father's business as soon as they reach the age of discretion. Young folks marry early in life, the parents having a great deal to say as to who their children shall be married to. The Frenchman, as far as I have seen him is industrious, but not ambitious. They are contented and satisfied with their lot because their grandparents got along nicely and were well contented.
France has some very beautiful architecture in their man cathedrals and churches. Every little village has a church of its own and usually all inhabitants of the town belong to that one church. Larger cities have cathedrals built with great care and precision.
It lacks only a few days of me having been in France four months. At the end of every four months in France, a fellow is entitled to a seven day leave including traveling time. Perhaps I shall have an opportunity to see a little more of the country we have heard so much about lately.
My resources have been exhausted and my stomach is empty. The boys are waiting for the mess call. It is a sign that I'll have to quit and get my own mess gear. Can't afford to lose out on chow.
With all good wishes from a buck private in the Marine Corps.
Your Friend,
Pvt. Gustave A. Land,
Co. F. 11th., Regiment,
U.S. Marine Corps, A. E. F. A. P. O. No. 788.
Renville County letters researched and transcribed by University of Mary history student Collin Hilzendeger
Ward County
Editor's Note: This letter was written by Hildor Elison from Luxembourg to his brother Otto on Nov. 29, 1918. It was published on Dec. 26, 1918, in the Ward County Independent.
Dear Brother: How is everything with you these happy days? I am very much alive these days and am on my way to the Rhine to keep Fritz from pulling any rough stuff. We have been right on his heels and as soon as he pulls out of a village we move in and take billets and set out a few of our guns on outpost duty, always on the alert for anything that comes up.
I am acting Top Sergeant on this wonderful trip thru Belgium, Luxemburg [sic], and to the Rhine and I do my hiking on horseback, pretty soft, but it is the first soft billet I have had since I came to France, thirteen months ago.
They are dolling this division up now like a parade outfit, because they were certainly a rough looking bunch of warriors after emerging from over six straight months of campaigning, in rain, mud and bitter cold, sleeping in little fox holes, half full of water constantly on the move chasing Fritz back to the Rhine.
They are decorating our Regimental Colors this morning. I think we have been cited ten times in orders, both French and American, and get the highest they have over here. Our colors will look like a valentine when we get back.
Believe me the people think a lot of the Marines over here and I certainly am glad I enlisted in this outfit. I was a wise old owl after all. My name has gone into Regimental for Gunnery Sergeant, which is a dandy billet in the Corps and ranks with Top Sergeant and Sergeant Major and carries an increase pay of about seventeen dollars.
Well, about this last fight, she was sure a tough one as the weather was against us all the way and how we ever endured the hardships is past me. We would dig in at night and the water would seep in and we would lay and shiver all night and go over the top in the morning at daybreak. Some life, believe me, but we killed more Boche and captured more artillery than any front yet. We went thirty five [sic] miles thru the Argonne forest and it was sure some nasty place to fight. Many of the boys who were not hit were evacuated for sickness. We had Diarrohea [sic] in the worst form and there were only a few of the hardiest of us left at the finish.
Believe me, it was some happy bunch when (we) learned that the armistice had been signed, we thot it was bull and couldn't realize it till the shelling ceased.
We were dug in in some woods near the Meuse river and the night of the armistice we all built camp fires and sat around them all night, the first time we had been warm for two weeks. Believe me, it was a happy bunch. Then we learned that we would follow up the Boche on the 17th, so that sent us a raft of replacements and we shoved off.
In Belgium they received us with open arms and shouted "Vive lu Amerique." We certainly felt like conquering heroes. We stopped in a small village the first night, and in Arlon the next night, a dandy big town. We had our company office in a brewer's residence and he couldn't do enough for us. He broke out wine a thousand years old and also some old rum and before the night was over we were feeling pretty good. We shoved off the next morning at 7:30 so we soon come out of the trance.
We are now on the German border in Luxemburg [sic] and expect to cross any day now.
The scenery here is simply wonderful. Mountains and streams and pines and picturesque chateaus, and fine winding roads. It is some trip, believe me.
Well Otto, I will write you from the Rhine, we will be stationed at Coblentz, a large fortified city on the Rhine.
Your Brother,
H.B.E.
Sgt. H.B. Ellison,
R.M.G. Co., 6th Regiment.
U.S. Marines, A.E.F.
Editor's Note: This letter was written by Arthur Hardy on Feb. 11, 1919. It was published in the Ward County Independent on Feb. 13, 1919.
Surrey, N.D.
February 11, 1919
Editor Independent,
Minot, N.D.
It is not generally known just when the Americans started operations in France, and it was some time after troops got into actual fighting before information was let out as to what they were really doing.
The first shot fired from an American gun was on the 23rd of October, 1917, by Battery B of the 5th F.A. First Division in a sector northwest of Toul.
At that time the Second Division was training in the vicinity of Toul. We didn't go into the trenches until the first of March, 1918.
The First Division took over this sector in January 1918. The 16th and 18th Infantry were the first U.S. troops to enter the trenches. The first twelve American prisoners were from the 16th Infantry.
The way it happened: The Doughboys wanted the Germans to know they were there, and a party in an advanced out post [sic] stuck up a small American flag.
The Germans answered by putting down a box barrage around them, cutting them off from their comrades. They sent over a raiding party of about 50 men and the Americans being greatly outnumbered were soon over-powered and the twelve men that were left were taken prisoners. They were taken to Berlin and displayed in cages on the streets. This was at the start not to run unnecessary risk or to expose themselves needlessly.
The First and Second U.S. Divisions have the largest casualty lists of any of the combat divisions. The First Division casualties were 82 percent. The casualties in the Second Division were 84 percent, according to latest official reports. The casualties in the regiment in which I served while in France, the Second Engineers, were 84 percent.
Some of the Infantry regiments show casualty lists of 136 percent.
The First Division advanced their lines 51 kilometers in the different sectors which they held. And the Second Division shows an advance of 60 kilometers in different parts of the line where they fought.
I received a letter today from a pal of my old outfit and he says they fought in a rain of shrapnel and machine gun bullets in the Argonne Forest till eleven o'clock the eleventh day of November, and were mighty glad when it was over.
I missed out on the latter part of the fighting as I was sent back in July as an instructor. I put in thirty-eight days in a sector northwest of Chateau Thierry, from June 2nd, till July 9th. This was almost continuous fighting. I went over the top three times during this time. Once at Soissons, June 2nd. At Belleau Woods, June 6th, and Vaux July 2nd. Was nipped in the right arm by a machine gun bullet and got hit in the left thigh with a shrapnel slug. Neither wound was serious enough to send me to the hospital so I didn't lose out on any fighting.
Since coming back to the U.S. I have been an instructor in bayonet, hand grenades, and gas masks. At Camp Forrest, GA and Camp Meade, MD, I was with the 11th Division and equipped for overseas duty when the armistice was signed.
I would liked [sic] to have been in at the finish as I was there when it started but it was not up to me to say where I'd rather serve. C'est la guerre.
Sergt. Arthur R. Hardy
Ward County letters researched and transcribed by University of Mary Social Studies Education and History student Jensen Roseboom.
Pierce County
Editor's Note: This excerpt is a select passage of a letter in which James Cline writes about how he and his company were taken off their 10-day rest and sent to the trenches. He and his men charged the German lines and overpowered them, forcing a retreat. It was published by the Rugby Tribune newspaper on March 20, 1919.
About a quarter of a mile down the road trucks were arriving and lining up. We were sure of one thing we were not going to "hike," even if we were veteran doughboys.
Our captain called us to "Attention" and gave the command to "sling epuipement," [sic] and after our packs were adjusted came the command, "right by squads," and we were off in column formation marching down the road toward the waiting trucks.
The roads were crowded, our supply trains were just arriving from the front, which we had left but a few hours before. They were now ordered to turn about and start back over the same road so recently traveled. The mule "skinners" were doing this movement with language appropriate to the occasion, and for artistic swearing the mule skinner cannot be excelled.
Our company was the first to reach the long line of waiting trucks. The officer in charge of loading certainly understood his business, for we were packed into those trucks like sardines in a can. He certainly knew how to utilize space. After the rest of the regiment was loaded, the truck drivers cranked, the engines and we were off over the very same road over which we had so recently returned from the front the day before.
Looking back, one could see the long line of trucks winding along the road like a giant snake and raising a cloud of dust from the many wheels.
We jarred and jolted along at fifteen miles an hour, the boys rolling and smoking countless cigarettes, and once in awhile [sic] singing an old favorite like "Where Do We Go From Here, Boys.," When it grew to be dark we became drowsy, but there was no such thing as sleep. If one were to lean against another, a poke in the ribs would be received, or he would be ordered to "get off my foot!"
All night ling we rambled along at a steady gait except now and then a sudden application of the brakes to keep us from bumping the track ahead of us, or a sudden jerk and a corresponding bumping of heads with lurid language. Although the roads of Francea re admitted to bethe [sic] best in the world they had not been repaired since the war started and the heavy military traffic had worn them though in places. An army truck has not the elastic springs of a pleasure car and we often wondered how much farther we had to go, and to wish for daylight to come.
Shortly after dawn we stopped and unloaded, stiff and sore from the cramped position, and were marched down a road and through a village in the valley. We felt good to be hiking again and stimulated by the morning again and stimulated by the morning air and exercise our semventy [sic]- five pound pack was nothing to carry; in short, we should have been lost without out "baby" as we called the pack.
We marched about two kilometers past the village and "fell out" in a wood to wait for darkness before going on, as we were nearing the front and must keep our movements concealed from the enemy planes which were always on the watch for troop movements. Our chow wagon was now brought u[, and we had "stew," a mixture of potatoes, meat and all the water the cook is able to find. This is the secret of feeding a large number of men, and the cooks are all well versed in it. "We'll make the boys a little stew for a change"-that is all there is to it.
As soon as darkness came we were on the hike again, march fifty minutes and rest ten, through the night. When day came we left the road and went up a little valley for concealment and there had breakfast. We were now near the front and could hear the big guns and see the planes overhead. We received "battle instructions" that afternoon. I was given a list of airplane signals and answers to memorize, and told what to do under certain circumstances. That evening we discarded everything but our combat pack, which consisted our rain coats, intrenchment [sic] tools and our rations of hard tack and "round billy," and a canteen full of water. While waiting for the order to advance the cooks shook our hands and wished us luck. As it began to grow dark we started out single file down a narrow trail, through a heavy wood. It soon became so dark we could not see, but kept our places by holding to the pack of the man in front. A pouring rain soon added to the darkness and increased our discomfort. The flashes from the big guns would tear a hole in the dark and afford us a glimpse of each other as we stumbled along through the mud and water, falling and rising, wet to the skin and as miserable as we could well be.
James Lloyd Cline
Pierce County letters researched and transcribed by University of Mary history student Collin Hilzendeger