MILO F. WINCHESTER
HVT – July 27, 2018 — Letter received by Henry Winchester
from his son, Milo F. Winchester, in France.
June 14, 1918
My Dear Father,
It has been nearly two weeks since I last wrote you but through no fault of mine. Really this is the first chance I have had to write, for during the past week, we have traveled many miles. It certainly has been some trip and as yet is far from finished.
I have already been in the three largest cities of the world since I last saw you and James. Seems almost like a big dream, doesn’t it? Well it does to me. The other day I had a nice swim in the Somme River, also saw Amiens and that beautiful cathedral which Fritz seems determined to destroy. It is a shame to think that civilized people could make such destruction in such a beautiful city as it was once.
During the past week, we have hiked over a hundred kilometers and rode in our side door Pullman or troop trains for two full days and nights so you can imagine we have covered just a little territory. Before getting our train, we marched for three days and a half. Then at the end spent two more days in hiking.
We are now stationed in a quaint old village among the mountains. The town is hundreds of years old, as many of the houses have dates of four or five hundred years ago.
You know where the Americans were first heard from in the line. That’s all I can say about it. It certainly does seem good to be with so many men from old U.S. Before, we had lots of British and a few French, but they are so much different from people from home.
On our trip, or really at our destination, we saw some real American Red Cross nurses, who served us with cocoa and soup and tobacco. It seemed almost like being right home again for those nurses could speak real English and knew how to cook the American way.
I had a bit of sport during our trip on the train, although it was rather lengthy. Our roads have these stopped a mile in every way. Even the old C.N.E. can’t compare with them. But with all this we were doing all sorts of crazy stunts. If we happened to see some flowers along the track that we wanted, we would jump off and get them and back again. I got off many times to get wild strawberries. During the day time, I spent a good share of the time on top of the cars, for there I got a fine view of the country, which is most beautiful in many places, especially as soon as you get in the mountainous regions.
The mountains are quite similar to those in America, except that the foliage on the trees seems to be much more dense in most places. There are also many narrow valleys or ravines which are crossed by very high bridges. We also passed through a good many tunnels on the way. There was a very pretty river and a well-kept canal which ran almost parallel to the railroad most of the way from the mountains to our destination.
I suppose you have often heard that good water is very difficult to find in this country. It certainly is, for traveling the whole length of France, this is the first place I have seen a real clear mountain brook and plenty of water in the town. All the water where we have been before has had to be treated before we could drink it. It was always a milky color as were all the streams. Streams, by the way, are very scarce. I have seen many large valleys but no signs of a stream of water, even of the smallest kind.
I guess you haven’t seen Pete yet, have you? No. For he is still here, but expects to go any day. The people here are having it now. Everyone works, men, women, kids and all. You would surely laugh to see the way they go at it. They would never get through home.
Your loving son,
MILO
_____________________________
HVT Aug. 24, 1918
MILO WINCHESTER IN FRONTLINE TRENCHES
Somewhere in France
July 21, 1918
My Dear Father,
Just had a letter from Harry that he has arrived safely in France. Your letter of June 26thjust came the other day. I think every letter you have written has reached me to that date.
Well, here I am back again in reserve, resting up after a ten-day stay at the front. We reached this town night before last after a rather long hike. I had very little time to myself while at the front and that, I think, accounts for the rapid passing of the time, for it seems as though I never saw ten days fly so fast. Often my partner and I were on the go from daylight to dark. You can imagine what that means at this time of year.
I would just like to know how many miles of trenches we walked while there, certainly a good many. On this front, which is rather quiet, we had no set sniper posts, as in many places, but roamed about the trenches or crept into no man’s land waiting for the chance to get a shot. I know there are a few less Hienies than before we went up to the front.
It’s a strange experience to the beginner who has to go about in no man’s land not knowing what minute some Heinie might appear on the scene. Fritz doesn’t like the weapons we are using, but you know the pig always squeals when he is getting pinched. Some of our weapons are dandies and maybe you can’t blame Fritz so much, but the worst is far too good for him.
I would like to show you one little side arm we have. It’s a dandy: it reminds me of those three-cornered files we have at home, only much sharper with a steel knuckle and a handle on one end.
You have undoubtedly seen pictures of the 135 c.m. French gun, how they are mounted and have been worrying Fritz a good deal north of Paris. They certainly are wonders. I happen to know where one is working every night. It certainly does get Fritz’s goat, for every time it is on a different place, and it is impossible for him to locate it, although it raises Cain with his back areas.
While at the front we were between the enemy fire and our own. It was most interesting to watch Fritz trying to locate our batteries which pound him day and night. Usually he was very unsuccessful. We could hear his guns go, then the whistle of the shell overhead, then the loud bang. Often, we could see the big cloud of dust and smoke go up from where the shell hit.
The other day I had to laugh for Fritz was slamming a lot of big shells close to one of our roads. Our batteries kept still for nearly an hour, letting Fritz have all the fun to himself, when all at once they opened up with a loud roar which lasted about ten minutes – then all was quiet forever after,
A couple of days before leaving the front we found a nice bid hive of bees, with a hundred pounds or more of honey. You should have seen us go after them. Three of us set out to accomplish the task with raincoats, gloves and gas masks. How the others did laugh especially three Frenchmen who happened to be near. But we got the honey and returned safely. This honey was in the backyard of what was once a most beautiful house, but now nothing remains but a few old ruined walls.
Nearly all the trees and shrubbery about have been killed by the deadly gas. The whole country about looked as though a big fire had swept the region. There were a few currants and red antwerps in the garden which looked pretty good, but we did not dare touch them because of the poison that might have been on them. It seemed a shame to see such waste.
Well, I guess Fritz got one good kick in the rear end at the Marne last week, didn’t he? I hear New York is all excited about it, but they are not anymore pleased than we. It’s the first time Fritz ever started an offensive and got such a whollop. I wonder if he still thinks the Yanks are bluffing.
Your loving son,
MILO
_______________________________
HVT Aug. 24, 1918
MILO WINCHESTER IN FRONTLINE TRENCHES
Somewhere in France
July 21, 1918
My Dear Father,
Just had a letter from Harry that he has arrived safely in France. Your letter of June 26thjust came the other day. I think every letter you have written has reached me to that date.
Well, here I am back again in reserve, resting up after a ten-day stay at the front. We reached this town night before last after a rather long hike. I had very little time to myself while at the front and that, I think, accounts for the rapid passing of the time, for it seems as though I never saw ten days fly so fast. Often my partner and I were on the go from daylight to dark. You can imagine what that means at this time of year.
I would just like to know how many miles of trenches we walked while there, certainly a good many. On this front, which is rather quiet, we had no set sniper posts, as in many places, but roamed about the trenches or crept into no man’s land waiting for the chance to get a shot. I know there are a few less Hienies than before we went up to the front.
It’s a strange experience to the beginner who has to go about in no man’s land not knowing what minute some Heinie might appear on the scene. Fritz doesn’t like the weapons we are using, but you know the pig always squeals when he is getting pinched. Some of our weapons are dandies and maybe you can’t blame Fritz so much, but the worst is far too good for him.
I would like to show you one little side arm we have. It’s a dandy: it reminds me of those three-cornered files we have at home, only much sharper with a steel knuckle and a handle on one end.
You have undoubtedly seen pictures of the 135 c.m. French gun, how they are mounted and have been worrying Fritz a good deal north of Paris. They certainly are wonders. I happen to know where one is working every night. It certainly does get Fritz’s goat, for every time it is on a different place, and it is impossible for him to locate it, although it raises Cain with his back areas.
While at the front we were between the enemy fire and our own. It was most interesting to watch Fritz trying to locate our batteries which pound him day and night. Usually he was very unsuccessful. We could hear his guns go, then the whistle of the shell overhead, then the loud bang. Often, we could see the big cloud of dust and smoke go up from where the shell hit.
The other day I had to laugh for Fritz was slamming a lot of big shells close to one of our roads. Our batteries kept still for nearly an hour, letting Fritz have all the fun to himself, when all at once they opened up with a loud roar which lasted about ten minutes – then all was quiet forever after,
A couple of days before leaving the front we found a nice bid hive of bees, with a hundred pounds or more of honey. You should have seen us go after them. Three of us set out to accomplish the task with raincoats, gloves and gas masks. How the others did laugh especially three Frenchmen who happened to be near. But we got the honey and returned safely. This honey was in the backyard of what was once a most beautiful house, but now nothing remains but a few old ruined walls.
Nearly all the trees and shrubbery about have been killed by the deadly gas. The whole country about looked as though a big fire had swept the region. There were a few currants and red antwerps in the garden which looked pretty good, but we did not dare touch them because of the poison that might have been on them. It seemed a shame to see such waste.
Well, I guess Fritz got one good kick in the rear end at the Marne last week, didn’t he? I hear New York is all excited about it, but they are not anymore pleased than we. It’s the first time Fritz ever started an offensive and got such a whollop. I wonder if he still thinks the Yanks are bluffing.
Your loving son,
MILO
_______________________________
HVT — Aug. 5, 1918
MILO WINCHESTER
The following portion of a letter from Milo Winchester was in HVT, 8/5/1918, and said, “continued from page 1.” Alas, we do not have page 1.
I tell you it seems good to be with Americans where we can get a few American articles at least, and have American rations instead of British. We now get the benefit of the Y.M.C.A., which is certainly doing wonderful work here. No one can realize what these little huts mean to us soldiers until he has been in our place for a while. We were without them for nearly a month after landing here and they were certainly greatly missed.
The other day each one of us received a good-sized package of tobacco from the tobacco fund of the U.S.A. The package contained three packages of Bull Durham, three packages of Lucky Strike cigarettes and a can of Tuxedo. Believe me, the boys were glad to get them, for it is almost impossible to buy tobacco in this country except where the army has a very limited supply in certain places.
The boys will not buy French or English cigarettes very often, even if they do manage to find them. They don’t like the foreign way of making the cigarettes. They are rolled entirely too tight and the tobacco is poor.
I thought I had seen some beautiful country in France, but nothing that could compare to this wonderful mountainous region. Yesterday I was up on one of the rather high peaks and from there had one of the most beautiful views you could imagine.
You remember in the Catskills last summer how pretty it was. Well, just recall that and make it more beautiful and you will have an idea of the scenery. For all the world, these mountain peaks remind me of Shokan. A great many of the forest trees are evergreens and are kept in almost perfect condition. They take great care of all their forests here, so that they are always in first class condition.
You ought to see some of these roads they have here. It would make some of those road builders at home sit up and take notice. I haven’t seen a single road in all my many miles of walking here than is any worse than the road in front of our house in its best condition. Most of the roads are graded, even back roads that you would think of little value are all graded so there is always an even grade up the hill no matter how long it is, and believe me, I have seen some mighty long grades over some of these hills.
The roads that are used so much are almost like new all the time and they get very little attention at that. I don’t know how they ever make them stand up the way they do. The roads are very straight and nearly all lined with trees on each side. Sometimes it seems as though you could see for miles before seeing the next turn.
I don’t suppose I will be allowed to say much of anything about some of the towns I have passed through but have seen pictures of towns Jerry has once occupied. That tells the story. There is a small group of towns in this vicinity that have not been touched, but there is a reason by no means hard to guess.
Well, good-bye until next time.
Your loving son,
MILO
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