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Letters from The Great War

Eloise Ogden/MDN This German steel helmet is in the World War I exhibit in the North Dakota Heritage Center and State Museum in Bismarck. The helmet was found by Pvt. Harmon J. King, Bismarck, 7th Engineer Train, on the battlefield during the St. Mihiel offensive.

In commemoration of the 100th anniversary of World War I, this is 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 Dr. 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.

Bottineau County

Editor’s Note: This letter is from Cpl. George M. Robertson with U.S. Marines in Germany. Written to his father, Dr. T. Robertson.

Altwied, Germany, Dec. 25 1918

Eloise Ogden/MDN “It was the ‘war to end all wars,’ and it raged for four long years, from July 28, 1914, until the armistice on November 11, 1918,” reads information on a panel in the World War I exhibit in the North Dakota Heritage Center and State Museum in Bismarck. The war in Europe began in 1914 but the U.S. remained neutral until spring 1917, according to the information

Dear Dad: It is drawing toward evening of a unique Christmas day and somehow it feels rather Christmassy to me. I’ve got a big contented feeling here, have had more than enough to eat and am perfectly comfortable here by a warm fire.

This has been a white Christmas to quite an extent. Our first snow as the night of the 22nd. Then last night it snowed and has been snowing at intervals all day. It has made this country into a fairy-land with all the forests and hills white and the old castle ruins all covered.

I got your letter of the 8th of November a few days ago and it seemed rather peculiar the prediction you hinted at in it. War was not over then but you said in closing that you hoped that letter would find me with the American armies on the German side of the Rhine. You said it in a joking way and I imagine never thot it would find me there but when I got it I was 5 kilometers on this side of the Rhine.

Don’t Believe All You Read

You people back in the States don’t want to swallow too much of this newspaper chatter about airplanes feeding us and such nice things as that. The only things I ever saw them drop have been eggs, propaganda, machine-gun bullets and once or twice a man.

We keep pretty busy playing here. Yesterday we played at the palace of the Princess of Wied, our second concert there. We hiked over the hills and thru this valley with the little town and old ruins looking beautiful. There are some great woods with fine tall trees and I managed to locate some beech-nuts which tasted fine. Then last night the captain treated and so we had a good evening. When I came home the old grandmother here showed me into another room where the little girl had her Christmas tree and presents. It sure made it look fine. She is about eight years old and is a fine looking little girl. I certainly enjoyed watching her enjoy her Christmas.

Very little Christmas stuff has reached us as yet. It takes time so we don’t let it bother us.

We certainly are well located here. It is the best quarters I have had since I left the States. There are five of us together in a very comfortable furnished room and these German people try to make us comfortable in all ways. There is an old couple, two daughters and the little granddaughter. The old lady has two sons in French prison-camps. The other son is in this town. He is married and has three children. The little girl’s father was killed near Steney.

The old man here comes in every evening for a few minutes to chat with us and he is very interesting. He was in the German army of occupation in France in 1870-71. We have some great talks on various subjects. It doesn’t hurt me to get the other’s point of view and this man is well educated and has traveled quite a bit. Of course my German is still rather defective but one of the other fellows speaks good German so we managed to make out.

The youngest girl and a friend have just been kidding me.

It is two days after Christmas. Some of the fellows came in and ended my letter-writing.

Winter Setting In.

Yesterday we were kept busy as we played for a funeral. Today we are having it easier and getting a little change to clean up.

The winter seems to have set in here in the valley it is protected and not very cold. There is plenty of snap in the air this morning. Makes a warm room feel good altho it makes one feel good to breathe in some good cold air and here it is surely pure air with no smoke or anything like that.

I guess I shall close now. We’ll hope by next Christmas that we will be together again altho I am certainly gathering some great experiences over here and shall never regret having gone thru these days. I’d like to get back to work, however, as I have quite a considerable school work I’d like to do before I’m ready for a real job.

If we are going to have to stay here in Germany I am perfectly satisfied with this place for now.

George.

Editor’s Note: Dr. Frank Scully wrote this letter to his father on Nov. 24, 1918. It was published in the Bottineau Advocate Dec. 12, 1918.

November 24, 1918.

Dear Father: As this day has been set aside as the day to write a Christmas letter to “Dad,” I will tell you some of my wanderings and something of this place we are located at. We have been informed that the censor will allow us a little more freedom in expressing ourselves so I am going to tell you about it.

We only had one submarine scare. Some swear it was a real one, others say it was a porpoise, anyway the ships scattered and our ship shot off a bunch of depth bombs at the supposed periscope. We were only about thirty hours out from the Irish coast at that time and had been joined by a number of little torpedo boat destroyers. They came up around us a fired their charges too. It was exciting I can tell you, and gave us all the thrills of a real submarine.

We landed in Liverpool and went across England to Southhampton where we stayed two days. I wished we would get near London, but there wasn’t any such luck.

I am glad I came over, tho the France of my expectations and the real France are quite different. But I am quite anxious to get back to the good old U. S A. Maybe I would have enjoyed France more if I were able to travel about freely and see only the nice side of it, maybe someday I’ll do that thing. (twenty years from now?)

I do not regret my army experience, but this inactivity and monotony are beginning to be quite tiresome. I would not care to stay in the army permanently, and am anxious to get into civil practice.

I suppose we will spend Christmas here, for I don’t think we will leave here before that. I wish I could be home to spend the day with you. I am feeling fine, and I hope you are too. I wish you and all the others at home the happiest and merriest Christmas of all.

With love,

Frank.

Bottineau County letters researched and transcribed by University of Mary history student Christina Caticchio. Caticchio is a senior at the University of Mary pursuing a major in history and secondary education. She currently lives in Bismarck while attending school and working as an academic researcher for the university.

Burke County

Editor’s Note: J.B. Fagan wrote this letter from Garden City, Long Island, New York, to his sister on Oct. 9, 1918. This letter was published in the Portal International newspaper on Oct. 24, 1918.

Oct. 9, 1918

Dear Sis: Will answer your letter of some time back. I was transferred from Camp Dodge to Garden City, N.Y., L. I. I was the only one out of my company to go, but there were 137 out of Camp. We left there last Saturday and got here Monday at 6 P. M. It sure was some swell trip. We stopped at 3 different cities and marched around and then was fed by the Red Cross at Cleveland O., Elkhart, Ind., and another place I can’t think of now. Then, when we landed in New York the Red Cross gave us another treat and then we took a boat and had a 3 hour ride before we landed at L. I., and then took the train into Camp, which was 25 miles from the city. We are living in tents for 2 weeks in quarantine then we will go into the barracks which are far ahead of Camp Dodge. Everything here is right up-to-date. We sleep in sheets and pillows here, I like it fine. It is altogether different from the army. There are lieutenants here that don’t know when drilling is.

I don’t know what we are going to do yet as we are not assigned to anything yet.

We were up yesterday and shot in the arm which is pretty sore and stiff today.

Out of our company since we landed, 36 have gone to the hospital with the Spanish Flu.

After we get out of quarantine we will be able to get week-end passes to go into the city. It costs 80 cents to ride right up to Broadway, so we’ll get around to see something. I don’t think we will stay here long as they are sending them across right along. We will get our over sea clothing tomorrow which will be a pretty good thing as it gets pretty cold in the morning and evening. Will say good bye for this time.

Your brother,

J.B. Fagan,

5th Co 1st Batt. 1st Tr. Brigade

A.G.S.D. & C.C.

Garden City, L.I., New York.

Editor’s Note: Leslie Ralston of Burke County wrote this letter from France on Aug. 11, 1918, to loved ones at home. It was later published in the Powers Lake Echo newspaper on Sept. 27, 1918.

Aug. 11, 1918.

Dear Ones at Home: Well this is a nice bright morning in France and I feel my time can be no better used than in writing home.

Am in the usual good health and working order.

Was quite supprised [sic] to hear Dad was coming back to N. D. for a while again. Guess old North Dakota has sort of an attraction about it after all.

Had a banquet last week for us and one of the other Companys stationed here. The way it came about was this, we were putting up ware houses and so we had a race to see who would get theirs done first. They finished first but had made a mistake which had to be corrected so it was called a draw and we tossed a coin to see who won. We won, so the next night we had supper at our Camp for both Companies. The menu for supper was peach pie, apple sauce, roast pork, gravy, and mashed potatoes, we had two hogs which we had raised and fattened ourselves so it was quite a treat.

Had my picture taken last Sunday and when I get them will send some home.

It gets rather tiresome being in the same camp all the time, but I suppose we should consider ourselves very fortunate to be where we are, most of us would like to go to the front though, but I guess from appearances we will be doomed to stay in camp, in the rear as long as there is any construction work to be done.

Well I can think of nothing more to write this time so will close.

With love,

Pvt. Leslie Ralston,

Co. C. 25th, Engr’s., American E.F.

A.P.O. 713.

Burke County letters researched and transcribed by University of Mary history education student Tanner Hintz.

McHenry County

Editor’s Note: This is an excerpt of a letter details part of a battle that Lt. Howard Huston experienced. It was published in the Courtenay Gazette newspaper on Sept. 19, 1918.

Sept. 19, 1918

…I shall never forget that night’s march. I don’t think I could tell about it as it actually was. It was dark, so dark you could only see five yards ahead. And I was in front and must set the pace for the regiment.

Along come the colonel, “what pace lieutenant?”

“Ninety-five, sir, the men are carrying heavy loads.”

“Right,” he said, “but weve [sic] got to get there. Make it 110.”

“Yes sir, very well sir” and the pace was quickened.

…Just as night fell we got our orders and maps. If we could only have eight hours for a little beating spell and a chance to study the maps and the country ahead of us. But surprise was our game and when that’s your game there’s no time to lose; no time to put things in order.

Zero was 4:35. It was now midnight. There was much to do. We must get our place. We were to be in the front line and hold the right flank position. We went in two waves. Pop Crane’s (first lieutenant) platoon was on the left; mine on the right. The other two supported us in squad columns. When we got in place, all ready to go, it was 4:25. Ammunition, everything, already to go over the top. Over the platoon for a last word. Not a bit of fear anywhere. Everyone was ready. I called to my runner and told him to stay with me. He did, God bless him, as long as he could. All along the lines as far as you could see the Germans were signaling for artillery-blue flares and white and pink. It stretched away so far that I knew that all was right. It must be a big advance-an advance along the line. All along my platoon you could hear the boys chuckling and whispering and getting set, and some of them were singing ever so softly. I remember hearing “My Little Girl,” and “Do They Miss Me [sic].” Then at 4:30 sharp, the barrage opened. From the sound of it I think all the guns, big and little, French and American, on that whole front had gone off. They told me afterwards that is just what happened; the watches were all synchronized. These guns spoke as if a single hand had fired a single gun, the biggest gun the world has ever known. I have been under guns or with in [sic] sight of them every day and every night since the middle of May, or pretty nearly. I thought I knew what gun fire was but I never knew real gunfire before.

It was 4:34. I could see the captain crossing himself and saying a little prayer. Come to think of it he wasn’t Catholic, but it doesn’t matter. I suppose we all crossed ourselves mentally, and then, 4:35-zero-the time to begin, and we began. I wish you could have seen the way that platoon went over the top, shouting, singing, some swearing, keeping a straight line; oh, a very straight line. A wood was our first objective. It was scarce 200 yards away and in it were Germans hiding in dugouts. Germans at machine guns, trying to stop us, but it couldn’t be done. You can’t stop Americans. A few men dropped; some dead, some wounded. We kept up a heavy fire as we advanced on the wood. Suddenly the firing ceased and lo and behold, in single file, one behind the other they filed out-about 500 Germans in all and taken in the first 20 minutes!

A moment later I heard the colonels voice behind us, “Is this company M? Good work, great work. Keep it up.”

We charged the woods. A few Germans were found in the trees, dugouts etc. Then I forgot everything for a few minutes. When I came to I felt something warm on my stomach. I reached up my hand and saw it was blood. My runner was kneeling by me. I saw at once that it was not serious. A first aid packet strapped tightly around me, a drink of water and then through the woods after the platoon. We found three Germans in it as we went through. It was either them or ourselves who were to stop and they will bother no more. When I came up to the company they were in a wheat field under heavy machine gun fire. Pop Crane went forward to put them out of business. He did but he didn’t come back. I sent a runner to the captain; he too was wounded and I was in command of the company.

Forward again we went and I came to Pop Crane. He was hopelessly wounded. He took his revolver from his holster, smiled; handed it to me and said, “Do your best with it boy. I can’t use it any more.” I left him there with a man to care for him. Inside of ten minutes the man was back. Pop had smiled to the last and I had to stop to wipe my eyes. There’s a little wife and three little children back in Summer town, Tenn. who are going to be mighty lonesome. If I wanted to define the word gentleman, I’d say “Pop Crane.”

…Plead as I would he wouldn’t let me stay and so the Red Cross got me and I had to leave my boys. I’d have given my right hand to have stayed. I don’t remember much after that.

…I hope the folks at home will remember Pop Crane and others who have paid the price. So far as I am concerned they can’t pay too big a price for him. I wrote to Mrs. Crane.

Will you just say “hello” to the old town for me. All is well. Do not worry, God’s in his heaven. I love you all.

Yours,

HOWARD

Editor’s Note: Captain J. R. Conyer wrote the following letter on Dec. 11, 1918, to the father of Howard M. Beck concerning his son’s death. It was published in the Churchs Ferry Sun newspaper on Jan. 24, 1928.

January 24, 1928

From Commanding Officer Battery B, 321st Field Artillery.

To Henry H. Beck, Sr., Granville, N.D.

Subject: Death of Privet Howard M. Beck.

Now that the war is over and I have the necessary time at my disposal, I am sure you want to know the circumstances surrounding the death of Howard M. Beck, late a member of Battery B, 321st F.A.

Privet Beck was a member of the gun crew of the 4th piece in this battery and preformed his duties, as such, faithfully and efficiently until he met his death by shell fire on the morning of November 2nd. 1918, the second day of the great battle of the Meuse, which was the closing battle of the war.

It is my personal opinion that his death was caused by gas, as he was found at daylight in the act of putting on his mask. When found he was in a crouched position, one hand raised to protect himself and the other had [sic] with his mask in it, having pulled his mask out of its container. The fatal shell was of large caliber [sic], as it did considerable damage to the 4th gun section material and at the same time killed three of the gun crew, Privet Beck being one of the three. The three are buried on the south bank of a creek which runs along the south side of Imecourt, France.

Howard Beck was one of the standbys of the artillery of the battery. Always alert, ready and willing to do anything that had to be done. He had many times before, together with the other of his crew, stuck to their duty in the service of the piece, even under heavy shell fire, disregarding danger.

He paid the maximum price, he made the supreme sacrifice for liberty and freedom of mankind and his memory shall live in the hearts and memories of the officers and men of his battery, as the stars, forever.

And in closing, may I add, that my heart goes out to you in earnest sympathy in this your grievous loss of a son, so brave, so attentive to duty, absolutely disregarding personal danger and having but one idea in mind – duty – and withal, such a fine specimen of young manhood.

And my personal wish is, that the omnipotent and all-seeing Ruler of the Universe extend to you His most bountiful mercies in this your bereavement and may you meet Howard M Beck in a grander, greater and better clime, where wars cannot break the bonds of affection and love.

Captain 32st F. A

J. R. CONYER

McHenry County letters researched and transcribed by University of Mary history student Claire Schindler.

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