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Motor Section, Advance PC, GHQ, APO 930, A E F April 27th, 1919. Dear Mother: Enclosed find one of the many reasons why one doesn't go on leave often. After the nineteenth indorsement, business of madly waving arms, despair, and so on. However, I started an entirely new letter, so that I might save the one I am sending to you; it's a wonderful example of military efficiency. Perhaps I'll make the grade yet - this is the nearest That I have been able to come to doing so, thus far. SH*sh--sh - - s h - - s. New dope. Rumor hath it that Advance GHQ may be found dispensible on or about some unknown date in June or July. This would seem to be logical, for by that time - provided Prexy Wilson has not scared any more peace delegates home - that treaty may be signed. And, even though an army of occupation was maintained for some time longer, the third army is the only one left in France at the present time and they have their own GHQ, and can function perfectly without ever hearing from us. Bien - and so we are all hoping to arrive on the other side of the pond about ice cream cone time. Your birthday present came on the 25th. Pretty accurate, I should say. Many thanks. Othello and my old friend Julius, with Romeo alongside, hold the place of honour on my desk these days - and they certainly are better entertainers than German letters. Had a birthday part. A doggone good one, too. You see, some of these hounds around here found out the date of my birthday, and suggested rather firmly that it was more or less up to me to give a party, just to some that I appreciated being now 23 years ancient. So I did. The Schloss Cafe rocked wildly for a few hours, our own Jazz band (4 performers, but wonderful endurance) did themselves proud, the Heinies thought the American Army was going mad all in chunks, and the M.P.'s came running from a half mile distant, to stop the riot. My yes, it was a very successful party. Only one bad feature, we forgot to take the Major home. When we had all piled into these German cars, nobody missed the Major - but the next morning at breakfast, he remarked that he did not think that that was any nice way to do at all. And I thoroughly agree with him too. Last week I saw Kenneth Gedney. Honest. He has been stationed some fifty kilometers from her for the past four or five months, but I did not know it any more than he knew that I was located in Trier. Having nothing of any importance to do any more, I am making the most of life and taking in all of the friends that are within a day's motoring distance, and Kenneth would always be that, even if 500 kilometers away. We had a quite a pow-wow; he gave me a picture of Winifred, promised to come and see me on the 25th through the 28th, and promptly failed to keep his promise. Had dinner at his mess (the 360th Inf.) enjoyed the meal immensely, insulted the colonel, and calling is a successful day, started on a long grind home.
Daily bulletin. 2nd Lieut. J.E. Henschel's, MTC, voice is rotten. In fact worse than that - it doesn't exist any more. Outside of that mere trifle, we are pleased to announce that we are enjoying most wonderful health. It's a funny thing, but whenever it gets rainy and wet now, I stop talking until the sun shines again. In so much as there have been only some five or six nice days this year in Trier, yours truly has been a strangely quiet sort of animal. That's the trouble about war anyway; it breaks into the regular way of living something awful. Some fellow at [Coblenz] had the brilliant idea that the army in Germany would make more and better progress if it had a newspaper. Therefore, a newspaper has put in its appearance. It's a horrible sheet, and hardly worthy of the name of newspaper, but then one can't call a young horse a cow. It shows up here every day, reprinting the news that has been given two days previously by the English papers published in Paris. This newspaper proposition is a great joke in a lot of ways. we have only three daily newspaper, all telling the same thing with different accent. Zum Beispiel, the Chicago Tribune is the yellow sheet, always stirring up some sort of mess, on the least sort of provocation. It has started and tried to start more investigations than any tow other papers in the country. It usually gets into the ring and boosts to the skies some project or other that is already three quarters on the road to completion. Or brings into discussion something that cannot be helped at all by discussion. Then our old conservative friend the New York Herald, Paris Edition. It's hardly an American paper any more; or rather - for that isn't at all accurate - it has absorbed th European way of being intensely American. The editorials therein are fine, and as a rule do not hedge about hunting for a way to avoid saying what the paper thinks. It's policy is always the same, and one can pretty nearly write the next day's Herald himself. Still I enjoy it a lot. Last but not least on the list of dailies is the London Daily Mail, in all three editions. Continental, Boulevard, American. The American Edition tries hard to be a typical American newspaper, but there never was a Britisher that could ever write the true story of a baseball game without being mobbed in spirit. Too darned literary for our gang of horse thieves. There's one feature that every American reads - just once - a sort of spring idyll effect. Let's quit. This is probably the poorest excuse for a letter yet. None the less, a lot of love goes along with this. Ned.
From the service of James E. (Ned) Henschel, Co. B Reserve Mallet--French Army, American Field Service, Quartermaster Corps, General Hdgts., and Motor Transport Co. 831.
|Date||April 27, 1919|
|Year Range from||1919|
|Year Range to||1919|
Henschel, James (Ned) Edward
World War I