Letter 89

Letter 89

                                                                                                                                Nov. 3, 1918

My Dear Sweetheart,

               Sunday once more and I’ve found time to write to my darling girl at home.  I wanted to write to you in the middle of the week, but we were moving again just at the time I wanted to write.  By the time we got settled the week was nearly gone, so now you see the reason I missed writing.  My intentions were good, dear, but I must attend to my duty first. 

                I received only four letters this week.  There were three from you and one from Mother.  Yours were:  Oct. 4, Oct. 8, and Oct. 10.  They surely were received with open arms and heart.  I received the last one last night. Oh how it made me feel.  I told some of the boys I would get a letter from you.  You mentioned you were neglecting your studies just to write to me.  I’m sure you would rather write to me first.  I know I would rather receive the letter, for dear, they are life-saving.  Nothing would take the place of those love messages, not even one of those French lassies who are always trying to attract the attention of the American soldiers.  Now dear, don’t miss you studies, but above all, don’t miss writing.  I have often thought how happy you and I would be if we could go together and have some of those happy school days all to ourselves.  Well dear, just keep on striving, and your dear lover who is so far away will do the same and in the end, God will grant to us the privilege of meeting again in this life.

                 Today being Fast Sunday, I am fasting.  I haven’t missed one yet, even in October when I was so sick, I fasted and put my trust in God, thus he spared my life.  Now dear, don’t get worried about what I’ve said.  I did not tell you before, for I thought you would worry.  I’m feeling fine now.  The only thing that worries me is, when will the war close? By the reports we get here, it will be over before long.

                Thanks, dear for the program of the Deseret Sunday School, it surely makes me feel like I were there myself.  I thought of you and how I would have liked to have been there.  You mentioned that you saw Jay and how blue he was.  Well, tell him to cheer up and not to think that this life over here is a gay one and all pleasures.  There are times when we are all feeling blue.  One thing, dear, even if Jay was turned down, he can say it was not for some sin he had brought upon his own body by misuse.  I surely wish he was over here with me now, for I have been deprived of my only friends.  Geo. has been away from me for over a month, and I don’t know where he is.  The Evans boy who was here with me has been in the hospital for three weeks, so I’m not with anyone from home.  I’m all by myself.  There surely will be a day when I will be permitted to mingle with my loved ones at home.

                Since arriving in this place, I have had the honor of eating in a French home, at a table, and going to the farm in an ox wagon.  There were four of us who rode in the wagon:   the owner, his daughter, and his son, who walked alone beside the wagon.  We went out for about two miles to get a load of cabbage.  I thought I had seen some large cabbage in my day, but these surely had them beat.  After we were ready to go, we had 706 heads.  They were to go to market the next day 20 kilometers away.  It surely was an interesting morning.  Never did I expect to ride beside oxen, but I did.  They surely are slow and clumsy.

            Now going back to their home life description.  How I came to be at the French home was for a cup of milk.  The young girl (20) asked me to sit down.  I did.    Then she didn’t want me to go, so she continued with her work setting the table; no white table cloth, just rough boards, and large bowls for each.  They are very funny in the way they eat.  They fill the bowls with coffee, and pass the bread.  Not as we do, but they have a knife and each person cuts off a piece.  I cut mine and began to drink my milk.  They offered me some coffee, but you know what I said.  Well, the joke came on me.  I had hung my cap on the back of the chair, and when I was ready to go, I looked for my cap and to my surprise I found it in a bucket of water.  I laughed and so did they.  They took it and are drying it for me.  Then I said to them pas bon (French) which means ‘no good’.

                Well dear, I’ve had a very good week and enjoyed myself greatly.  I hope and pray for the end of this terrible war.  Excuse the bad writing.  May God ever grant you and protect you for me is the desire of my your lover’s heart.

                                                                Yours forever,

                                                                                                                                Prvt. Henry D. Call

                                                                                                                                Co. A. 313^th Engrs.

                                                                                                                                American E. F.

                                                                                                                                France  A.R.O. 795

(Signed by censor:   Geo. J. Hult, 1^st Lieut. Ensign U.S. Army)