My brother recently found, buried in old family lore, a letter written by my grandfather to his father in late November 1918, summarizing what he’d been through since arriving in Bordeaux, France on May 15th. It’s an amazing read. He’s sending it from a military hospital, where he’d been twice for being wounded in action during that time, and later getting the Spanish flu. I’ve spent a couple of hours this morning transcribing the letter from cursive, verifying locations, etc. so it’s easier to read. One of the most amazing paragraphs I read was this:
To make a long story short we were ordered to the bridge the Vesle and one morning we started out – about 80 men, four sergeants, and a lieutenant. We were pretty badly cut up before reaching the front lines and when we finally did get there we had 15 men, the Lieutenant and myself. I was the only sergeant left and as such I was second in command. Well we dug in on the front line with the infantry for two days and then we threw five foot-bridges across the river and cut the wire on both sides.
My grandfather, like my father, was not a big guy. Probably 5 ft 4 in. But, he was a bad ■■■. It’s hard for us to fathom what these people went through, but I got a little better glipse today.
On Veteran’s Day (Remembrance Day in Canada) I often ponder about those members of my family who fought in the various wars. We have the letters my Dad’s father wrote in WW II and his military service record as well as that of my other grandfather who came home but never wanted to talk about war.
It was only a few years ago I discovered that there was a book written about the young men who attended King Edward VI school in Stratford upon Avon. 2 of my great grandmother’s brothers have their stories told in that book. In all, 5 of Great Granny’s brothers served but the 2 oldest did not return. You can read about the Fisher brothers (and all of the others) on the website with the stories from the book - The Boys | The Boys of Shakespeare's School in WWI
My mom came across a picture from in Nat Geo. The photo is taken the day after my grandfather was shot. He was an artillery spotter in the 89th Division (part of Patton’s 3rd Army). He had crossed the day before this pic, we think in the same general area (Oberwesel, Germany). I have no idea how large of a front the 89th was to cover.
This made both my Mom and me very emotional. My grandfather, like most men of his era, rarely talked about his time at the front. I’m debating how much of his story to tell you about that day. It’s pretty rough telling, and not just because of his being wounded.
My grandfather who returned from the war was very much like your grandfather in that he rarely spoke about his experiences. In answer to any question about the war he would say “oh you don’t want to know about that”. I was thinking about him for a while yesterday and today. He was a very quiet man which is in contrast to his siblings. Get a few of them in a room and it was soon filled with loud chatter, jokes, stories, etc. But grandpa was always the quiet one. I was thinking yesterday that maybe the war took some things away from him. He was in the army and his brother was in the air force and was shot down in July 1944. My mom’s cousins said their dad and my grandpa were the closest siblings so I think all of that took a toll.
