Letter #69

Letter #69                                                                                                                                                          

                                                                                                                                 July 29, 1918

                                                                                                                              Rifle Field

                                                                                                                             Camp Dodge, Iowa 

My Dear Sweetheart,

                Just to pass the time away and tell you where I am.  This morning we left our camp for a short hike, only about 5 miles out to the east.  I am lying flat on my stomach using my pillow for a table.  There are two of us in each tent, that is, each man has a shelter half, and they make a small tent of it.  We brought everything we owned with us.  The field here is very level, and the green is dry.  It puts me in mind of some of our canyons at home.  There is the Des Moines River winding its way through the beautiful oaks and other trees.  There is one thing what we don’t have at home, and that is the large oaks.  They surely are pretty.  They do not have poplar trees, and they only have apple trees.  It is too cold for other fruits.

                  Now I’ve told you of the surrounding conditions.  I want to tell you a little of about the work we have had this afternoon.  We were given an hour in learning how to handle the rifle and its correct use.  Then 24 were detailed to go and work into the pit.  I was one of them.  I did not know what that was, but listen to me, I soon found out.  We were taken to the target field, and then we were taken to the trenches to the firing line.  Our work was to raise and lower the target line at every shot; well we were only three feet from where the bullets came.  And listen to me.  They came hot and heavy. One’s ears surely rang.  My head was aching by the time I get away from there.  Such life really makes one think of “over there,” and how they’re being shot at by other people.  Well dear, this is the first day of real fighting, if you wish to call it that.  I suppose tomorrow I will have my turn using my rifle.  So I’ll tell you later how I did. 

                It is getting so dark I can hardly see to write, so I’ll say goodnight sweetheart, wishing you a good night’s rest.  I received your loving letter today or rather tonight; they brought it to us out here.

                                                                                                                       One Kiss,     X    Henry