Letter 82
Sept. 22,
1918
American
Engineering Forces
France
My Dear
Sweetheart,
Sunday once more and I have nothing
to do but eat, sleep, write, and talk. All is O.K. and feeling fine, and
enjoying myself, for I’m having a new line of work. September 8 I was notified
I had been promoted to First Class Private. This gives me $3 more a month.
Since then I have been chosen one of the four to do signal work for our
platoon. The mornings are spent in drill works, the afternoon I work with my
signals.
I am still near Geo. I have seen him the last
two nights. He is not feeling very well
but he is better now. The weather is very changeable for we have rain one minute
and sunshine the next. So you see, everything is damp here. All the hillsides and valleys look like
extended lawns dotted here and there with a small bunch of trees. There are a
few fruit trees. We can buy apples and
prunes. You spoke about me having a good time. Now dear, you must remember I’m
in a strange country and among people who enjoy themselves much differently
than do we at home.
They only sell tobacco at the Y, so
you see it is no place for me to go and there are no movies. The only thing my money can buy is food, when
one can get it. Apples, plums, and
cheese are sure scarce. Well dear, they have just come to tell us it is time
for us to go and get ready for payout. Well, I’m back and just thinking that my
first pay in France is only 140 francs. Now what shall I do with it is the next
question, but I suppose I will find some place to spend it. I have seen Geo.
today. He is coming down this evening, that is, if it does not rain. The place
I’m staying is not of the best, but I’m not going to complain for I’m thankful
it is as good as it is.
My quarters are a large hallway of a
French barn. On the right are the
cattle, chickens and rabbits. On the
left is the kitchen door. I sleep
upstairs. My bed is a pile of hay; my pillow
is a shoe or blouse, my bedfellow, straw or jigger, my dreams, home sweet home.
My table is the top of a dry goods box; my library, the hall of the barn with a
Roman arch; the wall of stone, the floor, hand hewn and covered with ancient straw. My electric lights are covered with
cobwebs. You may not be able to imagine such a place. But don’t think we’re being mistreated, for
we are being treated the best way that they can. For they don’t have the homes here as we have
at home. I have been happy and very
cheerful this week, for I have received eleven letters from home. I think five of them were from you. They surely were welcome. They were welcome, if anything ever was in
our life. For it was the first word from
home since the 16th of August.
That was a little over a month since no word from home.
If you only knew how it made me feel
you would send me one every day. It will
be impossible for me to write as often as I did before coming to France. Paper is almost impossible to get, so you can
see I must cut down by writing only once a week.
When you speak of going to the
theater, I hardly know what you are talking about, for it has been so long
since I attended one. I don’t know what
they are like, for the people of France’s national pastime is pushing a
wheelbarrow and riding a bicycle. The
only way I can get to a show is by you telling me about those you see. Well dear sweetheart, I can’t write as much
as I used to, but you just read between the lines and think of the love, which
you know I am sending to you each day and night.
My love still burns deep in my heart
for you. I am looking forward to the day
when I will be permitted to return to my darling sweetheart at home. No, dear, the girls are not near as good to
you at home.
May God ever bless you,
Your sweetheart, Private Henry
D. Call
Co.
A 313th Engrs. A.P.O. 7933,
American E. F. France
(Signed by the censor: Ivan A. Bukelhamt, 1st Lieut. U.S.
Army)
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