Letter 106

   Letter 106

                                                                                                                    Berthleville, France
                                                                                                                  Jan, 12, 1919
                To My Dear Sweetheart,

                                Is the 146^th home yet?  Sunday once more, yet it doesn’t seem like it, for this morning we finished a job we did not quite finish last night.  Since writing to you last I’ve passed over a great part of this country which has been torn up by this dreadful war.  We saw for miles nothing but trenches, which put me in mind of mice.  For the country had been torn up and heaved up and run in all directions.

                                We passed thru two towns, or they once were towns, but not anymore. There was not even a coop left.  The church had been shot to pieces, and just a part of the tower was left.  In another, the bell was still in the tower, but the main part of the tower was shot away.  It surely looked terrible to travel thru this land.  We spent half a day in a truck, for we were moved in them.  One thing I noticed all along the road were the graves of those who gave their lives for the freedom of the world.  One place in particular, in a low place near the road which had been filled up with water, stood the crosses of more than 30 French soldiers.  It surely looked terrible to see those graves being flooded with water. 

                                We left Bayonville last Tuesday morning going by way of Aranville where another company joined us.  We traveled all day going thru this Commercy.  At 3:30 we arrived at the little town of Marson, which is our home at present.  After helping unload our trucks, we were taken to our billets, which to our surprise were cold barns, like we had when we were down at “Chevon.”  It makes us a little downhearted to think we were to live once more in such places, especially after living in luxury as we had been in Bayonville.  But we can’t expect to always have the good things of army life. For you see, dear, we have had them for over two months.  Bayonville was the best there was in the whole country when it comes to quartering soldiers.

                                We stayed at Marson, a little village and drilled a little.  Thursday night I went to find Geo.,  for we were going to the next town since they had a “Y” there.  But he was on KP duty so he couldn’t go.  So a few other fellows and I went.  It was not much of a “Y” but you could write if you brought your own light and paper.  I had neither so I stayed and listened to the remarks of the Chaplin of the 349^th Infantry 88 Division.  He took for his subject the death of Theodore Roosevelt.  He gave us a good talk, but he seemed to think too much of the Republicans. He named a number of the great U.S. Presidents, but he failed to mention our president of today.  After returning to Marson we were told our platoon was assigned to do some special detail work.

                                So Friday morning we rolled our packs and left Marson for this place. We arrived here about 2:30.  We passed thru Divisional Headquarters Goncourt, which is south west of Toul. We did not do anything that day but got ready to start Saturday morning. We left here at 7:00 o’clock.  We had about a mile to go to work.   We were detailed to tear down their barns. Well we worked all day and tried to finish up last night, but darkness came too soon so we went down again this morning and finished by 10:00 o’clock.

                                Well dear, I think I’ve been very lucky for that is only the second Sunday I’ve had to work. It surely was very disagreeable work for the mud as up to our knees, and yesterday it rained and a little sleet fell. We got all wet, but we had a good fire to sit around in the evening. When we woke up this morning we found about 1 in. of snow and it was still snowing. It didn’t stop until we finished our work, but we got wet again carrying lumber.  That didn’t matter to us, however, so after finishing we made straight for home and took off our fatigues.  We washed the mud off them.  They are the only clothing that got wet, for we had on our leather jerkin.

                                Now don’t think I’m trying to break the Sabbath, for I thought about what I was doing all the time. This afternoon we’ve been sitting around drying our clothes, toasting our chins, and some of the time, sleeping. It has been one of the longest Sundays I’ve spent “over here.” It is still snowing but it melts almost as fast as it falls, but we have plenty of mud.

                                I would like to tell you about this little court, or manor, as one may call it. It is located in the midst of pines with a little stream running thru it.  At one end stands the large Lord or Manner House.  This is separated from the tenants’ houses by a large iron fence. In another corner stands the church and a little graveyard. The tenants’ houses are in a shape of a horseshoe. Near the river stands the old mill, and the barns are near the houses. There are a few families still living here.  The owner is still here. He surely looks funny. He puts me in mind of “Buffalo Bill,” but he speaks French.

                         This afternoon two of our lieutenants came to see us. They wanted to know if we wanted to go back to the old barns. We told them “no” for we can have a fire down here. Well dear, I’ve not received any mail this week. I’m sure looking for some any day now. The last mail I received from home was from Bertha. She had been sick, or had a nervous breakdown. I can tell by her letter she still feels blue. I hope by the time we get back there will be some mail for us. We are intending to back tomorrow morning.

                                How are all the folk at home? I hope they are all feeling well. I am sure feeling my oats now. I’m okay and everything is going fine.  I’ve been almost five months over here in France, and eight months in the army overall. Well dear, the mess call has blown, so I will interrupt a few minutes and then will be back.

                             Well I’m back again, feeling better now. Please forgive all my mistakes for I’ve not had any good pace to write, and with fellows coming in and interrupting all the time. I do not know when I’ll be home, but I hope dear it will be soon. For I have seen enough of France.

                                 Well dear, my love is still deep down in my soul and the only thing which will satisfy me now is to be back home with my loved ones. I try to imagine myself back there and how I’ll act, but I suppose things will be so different, and I’ll have to learn all over again. But remember, my dear sweetheart, my love is still the same, and my thoughts of you are always of our little future. May God grant that we may fulfill the mission we were sent here to Earth to perform is the desire and love I send to  you.

                                                                                               Your waiting sweetheart,

                                                                                                Henry D. Call, Co. A. 313^th Engrs.

                                                                                                American E.F. France, APO 795