WW1 Era Letter Typed by U.S. Doughboy after a recent trip to the Front Line in France. He speaks of Gas, Wearing Gas Mask, Shelling Germans and many other things.

[Heartfeltzero]

This letter was written by a PFC James V Coffin. He was born on April 18th 1895. During the war he served in the headquarters company 306th infantry within the 77th Infantry Division. He would take part in the following Engagements: Baccarat, Meuse-Argonne, and Vesle. The letter reads:

“Somewhere in France,
July 12th 1918.

Dear Tom:-

I have received your letter and was glad to hear from you. I have just completed my first trip up to the lines, such as you would call it. While not in the trenches, I had an opportunity to learn how Fritzie’s shells sound especially his high explosives and the like. It was a town about a kilo behind the lines and badly shot up, there not being one house in the town entirely free from a shell hole. A good many of them had more than one entrance while others were so completely demolished that you wouldn’t take them for more than a heap of stones.

I spent 17 days in this town with a detail of 13 men from our platoon. Our work was conducted from a dug-out where we operated a 12 drop switchboard. At no time were we in any great danger, and the chances of a shell making a direct hit on the dug-out are pretty poor. When I first entered this town I spent four days in a “German-made” dug-out, which was used for visual signalling, but we soon abandoned this and went on telephone. While here Fritzie kept us on the jump one morning for two hours, had our gas mask on and all were fully convinced for the time that the climate outside was very unhealthy. However , everything turned out all right, there not being one casualty among several hundred soldiers.

Everybody in this town must wear his gas mask - our best friend - on the alert position at all times. We even sleep with it on as we had several night alarms. I’ll say that it is not a very pleasant sensation to hear the claxton during the night. Still, no matter how long or heavy you may sleep, you manage to hear that warning. The Frenchmen who are working with us refuse to put their mask on until they actually smell gas. We must appear rather funny in their eyes, but we should care. We may take extreme care while they laugh at us, but I say let them laugh.

There are only six civilians in this town and it seems that they are going to die where they were born. One very old man, I was told, had his wife and daughter killed by the Germans. He had his tongue cut out so as he couldn’t tell the tale. I have often said to him, “Bonjour, Monsieur”, but he would only reply by a smile and nod. The reason his wife and daughter were killed was because they wouldn’t cook for the Germans.

In the evening Fritz used to try to come in his planes to make observations. We used to enjoy his coming, as we would sit outside of our billet and watch out anti-aircraft guns let loose on him. Quite an after supper pastime. While I haven’t yet seen a plane brought down. I have seen many make a hasty retreat because of the intense barrage set up by the French and Germans.

I spent the fourth in this place and it was and it was quieter than a “safe and sane” back in the city. Strange thing happened on this morning of the 4th. I was just coming out of the dug-out to go back to my billet. It was exactly four o’clock. As a “Good-Morning” to the Germans one of our batteries just sent over four shells to let them know it was the 4th. I heard later that one of our companies went over about 2 o’clock and gave Fritz a little “Hell”.

The following day Fritz sent over a few large Propaganda balloons attached to which were French newspapers, which were let loose by a burning cord. I came very near landing one of these and the chasing of it put me in mind of the many times I chased balloons on the 4th back in the states.

About five days ago we fell back two towns for a rest and a clean-up. We welcomed the news, not so much for a rest, as for the clean-up. You know, Tom, I am darn well familiar with the “Cooties” now, and they say the little things in life are the things that count. That all depends. However, we had a rest, but it seems that is all we do even when we work, for that is never too hard. We spent a day at a delousing station, had a fine hot shower, steamed all our clothes, had new underwear issued to us, and would call it some treat.

We spent another day at another town - a pretty big one - where you could buy anything from a needle to a house. I had a good feed and had all my hair cut off again - Convict 999. Gil’s regiment had its headquarters in this town.

I am now back on the job again with a detail of five fellows, but in another town, where there are more signs of civilization. My work is along telephone and visual signalling and I find it very interesting. We are billeted in a pretty good place, have a fine lot of fellows, plenty of readers matter, southern exposure, some meals, and a Y.M.C.A. right underneath us. If this is war, I hope we never have peace. Sherman was wrong.

But a fellow may talk like this one minute and still not mean a bit of it. While I may have had many ambitions back in the States. I have only one now, and that is to see the Statue of Liberty again, and not on a Postal Card either.

Tom, how are you going New Years calling this this year - In Taxis or carriages? Don’t forget to make my reservations. I found the contents of your letter very interesting, as I always do, and was very much surprised to learn of Harry Moran’s and Ted Weiss fortunes. When you write me again will you please send me the outfits our fellows are connected with so as I can get in touch with them.

Things no doubt must be getting quieter and quieter back in the States, but I hope the resumption of affairs will soon be here again. If we do as well as the Marines and the boys of the Rainbow Division it will not be long.

Speaking of the Red Wine, it seems the fellows just go crazy about it. Maybe Martin is not getting the right brand. I don’t know how I do it, but I am still off the stuff, but smoke an occasional cigarette.

Too bad about Major Mitchell, hey? Kind of a damper on the many happy scenes N.Y. has been witnessing for the last month or so.

Well Tom, I’ll drop you a few more lines soon. In the meantime I am

Very sincerely ,
JIM

P.S. Remember me to all the fellows and your folks.”

James would be severely wounded about a month after typing this letter on August 15th. He would survive his wounds and the rest of the war. He passed away on May 21st 1953.