Snippets from the Armistice letter of my grandfather, Garfield V. Cox, home to my grandmother, Jeanette Wade Cox, written in France where he served doing relief and reconstruction work with the American Friends Service Committee in lieu of military service during and after World War I.
Ferine Lu Boisson,
Savigny-en-Septaine, Cher
Nov. 11, 1918
My darling woman,
I wanted to say a word before going to bed on the evening of one of the famous days in history. I’ve been trying to realize that the war is over, but I can’t do it fully. We had a beautiful sunset this evening, the first time for 1561 days that it had set on a world that was not fighting. I looked at it and my mind ran back over the four and a half years past. I tried to imagine and realize what those four years had cost the world, but I gave it up. What I could do a bit better was to reflect upon what had happened to me during that time — and to us. Needless to say I am happy, and so are the other boys, and even more happy are the French….
Nov. 13, 1918 7:30 PM
I missed last night because we had no light. We got here late because we had to walk to & from work each time during the day, making a day’s work & 14 miles walking besides…. The mechanic has failed to get our motor to going so we’re still walking to work, and we haven’t been to Bourges for mail. I think there must be something there by now from both my folks and you.
Tho’ the armistice was signed at 5 A.M. (11 P.M. Sunday night, Wauwatosa time), word of it didn’t get here till noon Monday. When the news came some cried, some laughed, some sang & shouted, the village improvised a band, and the soldiers in local camps were given 24 hrs. leave, which they spent getting drunk. We were pestered by drunk soldiers so badly in the afternoon that we were much delayed in our work. Some were funny & others annoying. Americans boasted about the victory, but the French spoke only of the peace. In the evening when we got to the village hotel the place was so packed we could hardly get in. Great celebrations were held in all French cities. All the autos passing us on the road were adorned with the tri-color and many with the stars & stripes also. — The terms of the armistice were essentially what Frank Simonds said Oct. 17th that the terms of an armistice should be; you probably noticed that.
Yesterday seemed very quiet for there were very few aeroplanes overhead. There weren’t Mon. afternoon either, except a few which did spirals and loop-the=loops for the entertainment of the country-side. The refugees seemed very happy, and talked about returning to their own provinces next spring. I’ve had some interesting stories from some of these refugees.
Today has been the most beautiful day I’ve seen in France, cold and clear — like Nov. in Wisconsin.
Oh yes, I must tell you that practically all the boys over here — all who can — start & wear mustaches. They’ve been at me about it constantly, but I hadn’t listened till Plank got after me about it the other day and insisted earnestly that I would be a better looking man by 50% with a mustache than smooth-shaven. So I told him I’d start one. He asked when and I said I’d begin when Germany signed the armistice. So I’m starting one, and am very anxious to see how it will look. Don;t be provoked or worried; if you’d rather I’d not bring it home with me I’ll shave it off before I return. — I can see why you’d want me to come back looking as much as possible like the husband that left you.
A rumor is extant here that the Kaiser was assassinated this morning. If so it will relieve American statesmen from the burden of determining what to do with him. However, I think the incident regrettable, if true.
I can imagine how wild Am. went over the news of Wilhelm’s abdication & the signing of the armistice. I could picture 5th Ave. decked out in flags, and Dr. Mackintosh talking to the boys at Wabash. I could imagine, too, the pandemonium turned loose in Washington. I imagine America’s rejoicing was more noisy and bombastic than that of the people here.
Well, this is another evening, Nov. 14th, and we are still without a truck to ride in. The mechanic from the French army worked on it all day today and hopes to get thru sometimes tomorrow. I don’t mind the walking, but I’m getting desperately anxious to get to mail you a letter and also to get the word from you that must be awaiting me at Bourges. I’m afraid you’ll be worrying about me, if you don’t hear from me for a whole week or more. This has really been a week of hardships; until tonight we haven’t even had a lamp. (For that matter one lamp is mighty little light for thirteen people anyway). But worst of all we are having to carry on our shoulders for a quarter of a mile all the timbers and material we are using in building the houses. Today has been the hardest for me of all. I’ve spent a lot of calories of energy, carrying floor sills and uprights, and the ground over which I walked was rough & hilly.
But, even so, I was exceeding happy, for I was doing work that required a strong back but no mind, and I spent hour after hour planning our future with a zest and enthusiasm greater than any I’ve ever had before. Oh, it is wonderful to realize that that terrible and cruel thing which has been wrecking and delaying homes and happiness for so many, many months has at last passed away, and that we can count upon the future without that shadow of dark uncertainty….
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This is a new entry in a series of posts based on my grandfathers letters home from France. If interested, you can look back in my history to around 2011 for the rest.
I’ve cut out more mundane and personal stuff about his thoughts on their future and their lack of light but left in enough to show that work went on despite the peace. The American Friends Service Committee worked with the American Red Cross on various services during the war and provided a way for conscientious objectors to serve without conflicting with their religious beliefs.
Oh, yes last sentence he wrote regarding the home front…
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Yes, I hope the “Flu” has by this time relaxed its hold in American, and that you are now teaching….
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It was very interesting to note that a letter between my grandmother and her in-laws when he shipped out to France was more about the affects of the flu at home; who had gotten sick, who had died; than it was about their son/husband going off to a war zone. It was also interesting to read that the first letters he sent home discussing his trip on the steamer to France mentioned him spending all his time on deck but failed to mention the reason was that they brought the flu with them below decks. He saved that information until he came home.
Frank Simonds, mentioned above, was a journalist and historian of the war.
Dr. Mackintosh was head of Wabash College where my grandfather taught at the time.
The paragraph regarding the quiet and lack of aeroplanes reminded me of the week following 9/11 when the skies were empty.
Lastly, the photo above was taken on his boat trip home the following summer. I think it is the only photo of him with a mustache.