Love Letters

Love Letters
136 letters from 1918, WWI

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Letter 112


                Letter 112
                                                                                                                        Feb. 23, 1919
                                                                                                           Mauvages, France

               My Dear Sweetheart,
                          Sunday once more, and still I find myself located in this small village of peasants.  They live a simple life and carry on the necessary duties of life the same, even if there are many American soldiers here. Today being Sunday I’ve spent a great deal of my time here at the Y. I wrote to Mother this morning,  and this afternoon I have set apart time for you dear; I must devote at least two hours of time weekly to you, and all the more if I can get it.

                                 Now don’t think because I only write once a week I don’t think of you, for I do. There is always a time each day, when I leave this country and I find myself back there with you, dear, yet there seems to be something lacking.  I can’t feel that soothing touch of your hand, but I can get that God-sent love you send to me daily.  For it beams on my face always.  You have often mentioned, dear, that you were writing too much.  That is impossible!  For you must remember that it is all I have to satisfy my craving soul.

                                  Were it not for those messages I love and receive now and then, life here would be a misery, and oh so lonesome.  They are the only things I look forward to, except for the day I’m informed that we are to leave for Dear Old U.S.  My mind has changed a great deal since coming over here.  I surely feel proud to think you have been so patriotic in doing what you can for those “over here,” even though you hadn’t a brother over here.  Another thing, you have carried yourself with the heart of any soldier.

                                I’m sure you have had times when you thought that everything had gone wrong, and there was not even an opening to be seen.  These hardships you have taken upon yourself and you have not even complained, but instead, thanked God that He would give you strength to withstand it.   And now that I am on my last mile and you can see my homecoming in sight, just keep that same good spirit, courage, and love around you and be cheerful until that grand day of our meeting.  Now dear, don’t think for a minute that I didn’t have faith in you doing it.  You have reached my ideas gloriously and you have gone far beyond.  It makes me feel I was just a common soldier doing my part, but if need be, would give my life for the freedom of humanity. Thus my faith has been made stronger and my ideals set to a much higher standard of life.  My only desires are that we may both live to accomplish them in this life.

                                You talked about William Fisher wanting an orphan about 18 years old.  I surely would like a little boy about 6 years old.  I don’t agree with him wanting such an old one.  Treo Jensen has gone to the hospital with a gathering in his ear.

                                Well dear, I can’t say you have forgotten me, for last Tuesday morning I received a love message from you.  Mail came in Monday night.  I waited for my name to be called, but there was nothing for me.  I surely felt as though there must have been some mistake, and there was!   I always try to look on the bright side of life, so after mess, I went to find George.  I finally succeeded in doing so.  It was the first time in four weeks.  He was the same old George.  We had a nice chat together, talking about home and we read each other’s letters.  I’m sure you don’t object.  Do you?  Bessie seems to be about the same.  I sometimes think she is a wee bit cold with George.  She should remember he doesn’t feel disposed to write as he feels.  I’m sure you understand me in regards to the same in writing; but remember dear, read between the lines.

                                We returned back to Mauvages in a rain storm Tuesday.  We did not get very wet for we had our raincoats.  We got here by 4:20 just in time for mess.  I went to the Y and saw “On to Berlin” played by the 119th Field Artillery.  The next day we finished our barrack and since then we have been waiting for orders. They seem to have trouble in locating a place for them.  I was very much surprised yesterday.  We were told that we were to put them on a three acre lot near the town, but owing to a few owners not signing for permission, it was stopped.  There were only 36 owners.  No wonder they don’t have any fences. 

                                Since Wednesday, I have seen three plays and vaudeville. Thursday night, the 113th Engineers went, then Friday night we saw “The Clover Leaf.”  Last night, the Nelson Trio gave us a fine musical entertainment singing some of the most popular songs.  One of the ladies played several pieces on her violin.  They also demonstrated some of the modern dances.  To tell the truth dear, I sure wished I were home.  I had the blues before the performance but I still felt much better after.  Of late we have been able to obtain a little “Hershey.”  It surely tastes much different from this French kind.     

                                Well I suppose Ward and Mable are married by now. It surely will seem funny.  Well, I thought of them just the same.  So David got home Jan. 24th.  Lucky kid.  I suppose the papers were filled with the great things they did “over here.”  Well dear, keep a smile on your face and think of our meeting sometime.  Bye bye.  May you ever have the Spirit of God around you continually, and grant unto us the desires of our hearts. 

                                                                                                                With love, Henry  X  X   X

                                                                                                                                               

                       

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