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A Letter from World War I
By Michael E. Driscoll, Torrington
Since the war with Iraq began last week, I, like many Americans, have been glued to the television screen. What started out looking like a scrimmage has become a very serious and dangerous task and I, like many of you, have become increasingly concerned about the safety of our troops.
I asked that the following letter be reproduced in The Voice not in an effort to sway anyone's opinion on whether this war is just or necessary, but only to remind readers how war has impacted generations that have preceded us and how different it is today. It was written by an American who served in WWI and arrived in Paris on the first train after peace was declared. Imagine, it probably took this letter a month to get from the European front to its destination in the United States. Today, we are watching firefights live and terms like "embedded reporters" have become part of our daily vocabulary. Everyone knows war has changed in the last 90 years, but reading a letter like this helps us to understand just how much.
As an antiques dealer I often come across individual remembrances of important historic events, but this letter seemed to be especially timely. The description of the relationship the French people had with the American servicemen, as well as the unbridled joy that peace created, gives us a lot to think about in these uncertain times.
November 13, 1918
Dear Hattie: I know you will be glad to get a letter from me. I began with a French pen but found it wise to change. I haven't written many letters (except to my family), not because I couldn't have done so, but because it is very unsatisfactory to write when one has to keep the padlock on one's experiences. Even now, when perhaps greater leniency may be shown by the censorship, one doesn't know how much is taken for granted.
Well, the crack came. And those who prophesied it would come before Xmas had it right. I reckon when all the facts are learned that we shall find a state of affairs has existed in Germany for a long time such as we couldn't dream of. I am keeping a little file of items from Nov. 11 which ought to be of interest in subsequent years when we look back on these pregnant days.
I had the good fortune to be a passenger on the first train that arrived in Paris after the news of the signing of the armistice. It was a wonderfully thrilling experience to see and hear the effect the news had on the French soldiers aboard that train. Of course, over here as doubtless over there, the rumor of the end of war was abroad many days before it was confirmed. But the French people, I judge, have learned to distrust rumors. And as I met them in the little villages I was in last week, they said "La Guerre est finie." But they said it with a rising inflection as though they were not quite sure. Note too there was no perceptible enthusiasm—for the same reason. But that fateful morning of the 11th, as we approached Paris, and gradually picked up the news—the emotions of the soldiers (men and officers alike) became warmer and warmer. And finally they seemed almost to lose control of themselves. They embraced, they laughed, they cried, they danced, they opened the windows and shouted to the world (careless whether any heard or not) Fini! Fini! And even now—two days afterwards—pandemonium reigns. That is, there is much noise and singing and one gets the impression that everybody is on the street. I suppose this is duplicated elsewhere. I can imagine that in the States (we speak of the U.S. that way over here) there has been much ebullition (if that's the word). But I don't believe that anywhere it is quite as profound as it is here.
Funny, through, what a difference there is in racial habits of emotional expression. Last night about 3,000 Americans in uniforms (YMCA men as well as the military) marched down one of the boulevards and when we reached the Place de la Concorde (where all the German trophies are on exhibition) we bunched together and gave along yell. "Rah Rah Rah—Vive la France! Vive la France! Rah Rah Rah R-a-h!!!" Well, we did make the clouds vibrate as we gave that yell. And the French people stood around astounded. That wasn't their way. But they liked it and all wanted to join in and shake hands afterwards.
I went to a prize fight last night. It was given by the YMCA for the entertainment of the soldiers, and while it was exciting I can't say I would give a franc to go to another. And a week ago I went to a movie on Sunday night (given in connection with a religious service). So you see you won't know your sanctimonious quondam parson when he comes back. My best to Albert and to Mrs. Bohlan and to all my friends.
Sincerely yours, P. C. Walcott
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