mcginnis
Wed, 11/20/2024 - 16:30
Edited Text
[American Y.M.C.A.]
[On Active Service
With the
American Expeditionary Forces]
6/22/1919
London, England.
Dear Mother:
I just finished dinner here at Eagle Hut. Had a very good dinner but I was just thinking
how good a young chicken fried well would taste. I have often eaten chicken here, but I have not
yet tasted one that I cared anything for. I don’t believe they ever kill any young chickens over
here—they all seem as tough as though they might have been in the Ark at the time of the flood.
Martin and I went to Church this morning. We went to Westminster Chapel to hear Dr.
Fowett. He is a great preacher, and his church was full this morning. It is a large church with two
balconies. The people seem to turn out well to church here on Sunday. I often wonder what this
old world would come to if the people were to lose their faith in a Power Supreme, and leave all
to human strength and power. I have met a few very fine fellows who have no Faith in things
Divine. Most of them would leave everything to Nature, and they recognize no Force controlling
Nature. To me their cases seem sort of pitiful.
Our stay in England is drawing to a close. We have orders at present to leave here for
Brest July second. I do not know then how long it will be before we are moving Westward, but
am hoping it may not be long. I suppose we will have to go thru the de-coot-izer there although
we have not seen a cootie since we came to England.
Germany ought to sign the Peace terms tomorrow, although the blowing up of her
interned vessels does not show a very penitent attitude. She doesn’t seem to know she is licked
yet.
I was up in the Shakespeare country this week, and had a fine trip. While gone we visited
Oxford, Leamington, Kenilworth, Warwick, and Stratford-on-Avon. Stratford is the place of
Shakespeare’s home. There, I saw his birthplace, the site of the house in which he died, the
grammar school he attended, a theater erected to his memory, the church in which he was buried,
and the cottage where he courted and married his wife, Ann Hathaway.
I sent a lot of post cards home this week and have a lot more to send. I am beginning to
reduce my equipment to my carrying capacity again.
I suppose Helen was married yesterday. I sent her a letter of congratulations to show her I
was thinking of her on her wedding day.
I am living one of the easiest lives since I came here to London I ever lived in my life
before. I ought to be pretty well rested up when I get home.
I had a letter from you this week—the only one I have received from the States this week.
Expect more tomorrow. Monday and Tuesdays are my usual mail days.
England has finally had rain. It rained most all day Friday and a small shower yesterday
morning. It is fine today—slight by cloudy.
Your son,
Guy.
[On Active Service
With the
American Expeditionary Forces]
6/22/1919
London, England.
Dear Mother:
I just finished dinner here at Eagle Hut. Had a very good dinner but I was just thinking
how good a young chicken fried well would taste. I have often eaten chicken here, but I have not
yet tasted one that I cared anything for. I don’t believe they ever kill any young chickens over
here—they all seem as tough as though they might have been in the Ark at the time of the flood.
Martin and I went to Church this morning. We went to Westminster Chapel to hear Dr.
Fowett. He is a great preacher, and his church was full this morning. It is a large church with two
balconies. The people seem to turn out well to church here on Sunday. I often wonder what this
old world would come to if the people were to lose their faith in a Power Supreme, and leave all
to human strength and power. I have met a few very fine fellows who have no Faith in things
Divine. Most of them would leave everything to Nature, and they recognize no Force controlling
Nature. To me their cases seem sort of pitiful.
Our stay in England is drawing to a close. We have orders at present to leave here for
Brest July second. I do not know then how long it will be before we are moving Westward, but
am hoping it may not be long. I suppose we will have to go thru the de-coot-izer there although
we have not seen a cootie since we came to England.
Germany ought to sign the Peace terms tomorrow, although the blowing up of her
interned vessels does not show a very penitent attitude. She doesn’t seem to know she is licked
yet.
I was up in the Shakespeare country this week, and had a fine trip. While gone we visited
Oxford, Leamington, Kenilworth, Warwick, and Stratford-on-Avon. Stratford is the place of
Shakespeare’s home. There, I saw his birthplace, the site of the house in which he died, the
grammar school he attended, a theater erected to his memory, the church in which he was buried,
and the cottage where he courted and married his wife, Ann Hathaway.
I sent a lot of post cards home this week and have a lot more to send. I am beginning to
reduce my equipment to my carrying capacity again.
I suppose Helen was married yesterday. I sent her a letter of congratulations to show her I
was thinking of her on her wedding day.
I am living one of the easiest lives since I came here to London I ever lived in my life
before. I ought to be pretty well rested up when I get home.
I had a letter from you this week—the only one I have received from the States this week.
Expect more tomorrow. Monday and Tuesdays are my usual mail days.
England has finally had rain. It rained most all day Friday and a small shower yesterday
morning. It is fine today—slight by cloudy.
Your son,
Guy.