Wooster in the First World War: Letters Home

Houston Snyder

Houston Snyder grew up on a farm outside of Canaan Township. In 1917, at 31 years old, he enlisted in Company A of the 112th Regiment. Like the 146th, the 112th fought in the Meuse-Argonne Offensive in the final weeks of the war.

Private Snyder was killed in action on October 19, 1918. Five days before his death, he wrote the following letter:

October 14, 1918

Dear Folks at Home,

Well, as I haven’t written for a long time, I will drop a few lines to let you know that I am alright and hope everyone there is in good health. We are taking a little rest at present, which all of us need and are glad to take advantage of it. We were in the battle fourteen days and raining part of the time, no blanket sometimes, and practically nothing to eat the first four days, so you can imagine we were glad when we got relieved. Anyhow we drove the Dutch about twelve or fifteen miles, and that is what we are after. We had quite a few killed, and a great many wounded. Although the Germans left many dead behind, they must have lots of wounded. I tell you it is awful to see the shell holes and the towns that have been destroyed.

Well, I must close and go to bed, and will write again soon, as I don’t think we will go to the front again for a while. At least I hope not, although I am ready to go at any time. Will tell you of the sights I saw when I return. Enclosed is a coupon I am sending you for a Christmas present, as they gave us each one, and I don’t think I will be home for Christmas dinner this year, but perhaps next year I can. You can hardly buy anything here, and when you do, the French charge about five times as much as it is worth. We are still within hearing of the big guns.[1]

Harry Pinnick

The first news that reached Wayne County from the front often came in the form of letters. Private Harry Pinnick of Company D, 146th Regiment sent the following letters to his wife, Mrs. Martha Pinnick, during October of 1918, whist “Wooster’s own” were fighting in the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. Mrs. Pinnick shared the letters with the Wooster Daily Republican, evidently because news of the four Company D men that Harry reports have been killed had yet to reach Wooster.

October 2, 1918

Dear Wife,

I am still on top. I received a couple of letters from you a week or so ago, but have not had time to answer. We have been too busy chasing the Dutch. I suppose you will hear all about the drive before this reaches you. We were in it for (censored) then we were relieved. I don’t know how long it will be before we go in again I suppose after we get rested a little, as it was pretty hard, I assure you. I suppose you heard that Ben and Brauneck got killed. They both died instantly. Two new fellows in our company were also killed, and quite a few injured.

Co. D was the luckiest company in the division. Some lost pretty heavy…I had a couple of close calls. On shell bursted and hit three fellows right beside me, a piece of shrapnel just scratched my neck. I didn’t even have to go in for repairs. I was pretty lucky.

It was pretty cold sleeping out at night, and we didn’t have much to eat, but that is the only way we can ever win the war. A fellow can stand that part alright. Tell the folks not to worry and that I am alright, and will write just as soon as I can. You must not worry when you do not hear from me, as I am pretty sure to be O.K. If anything happens they will let you know. How are you and young Pinnick? I think about you and mother lots. How nice it will be when we can all be together once more. I saw Arthur Green. He is with the engineers now. I suppose we will get a bunch of mail in a day or so, as it has been quite a while since we did. I am always glad of one thing, if it is hard here, I have the best pals in the world back home to think if and live for, and what is better, they think of me. So, with that thought in my mind I will close for this time. Be good and I will do the same.

With lots of love to all. Yours forever,

Harry[2]

October 12, 1918

Hello Martha,

I’m still on top and feeling fine and hope you are well also.

What do you think of the paper I am using? But I guess it doesn’t matter much in war times, does it? This is the first time I have had a chance to write you for two or three weeks. I haven’t had a Y.M.C.A. to get any paper. What is the weather like back home now? I don’t suppose it’s quite so hot as here anyhow. It gets pretty cold at night, but nothing like it will be after a while.

Well, we have been having “some times" the last few days. We haven’t been getting any rations. We have just been cooking what potatoes and things we could find. We have a little stove and cook the food ourselves. It tastes real good too. A couple of days ago we ran onto a place where some division had left a lot of rations. When we left there, I had four boxes of hard tack, one of corn beef, six of peas (you know how I detested them), six potatoes, and three loaves of bread strung on a wire which I hung over my shoulder. The rest of the fellows had about the same. Believe me, we didn’t starve for a few days. We found some flour and baking powder. The boys are mixing it up right now and we are going to make cakes. Gee, but I’m anxious to get back and eat some of your cooking. We never had the opportunity to do much cooking, did we? I am going to have you make me a pie two inches thick the very first thing when I reach “good old Wooster.” I know you will, won’t you?

Here is a pledge, which Mrs. Spangler sent me to sign. Well, they sent them to all the boys who went out to Sunday school. Of course, you know I do not indulge in liquor, but there is no harm in signing it. I will send one to Mrs. Spangler also. How is Junior these days? My! Won’t it seem funny come home and have a big boy of four or five months old? I hope he isn’t any older than that anyway. Well girlie, I will close for this time.

Always your affectionate pal,

Harry[3]

Charles Palmer

Charles Palmer graduated from Wooster High School in 1911. Four years later, he enlisted as an American volunteer in the British Army. By the time that the 146th Regiment reached France in 1918, Lieutenant Palmer had already served in the trenches for three years and had been wounded three times. The Wooster Daily Republican printed the following letter, which Palmer wrote to his father, in September 1917. Based on the timing of the letter, it is likely that he is describing his experience in the Battle of Passchendaele:

Dear Dad,

We have been up in the firing line for nearly two days in reserve. At present it’s a very, very hot place, and there is no end of small attacks by both sides, both day and night. Positions are captured in the morning and lost in the afternoon, to be retaken at night. Whole companies go in a five minute fight, and the bombardment is on at any time of the day. Last week one of our captains, absolutely worn out, as he had been holding a piece of our line which was up in the air, was ordered back by the C.O. and I, who had been adjutant’s work, was sent up to take his place. Our line ran straight toward the Boche’s, and the end was within 75 yards of his trench. A woods behind us, and the next of our people on the right were 450 yards away, an enormous gap, and I was responsible for not only my line but for the gap as well. It would have been an easy matter for the Boche to have made a frontal attack as well as a rear attack. We wired half the gap and had it covered from a rear line and from our own with seven machine guns. Besides we were on the telephone with the artillery, and at the slightest signal, they could drop tons of steel on the gap. We were getting on quite happily until the night of the 24th.

I had the whole company except the sentries along the line, working around the gap, two parties wiring, a party digging, and three parties patrolling. One party, under a young Irishman (an officer) patrolling the gap, was to go and establish connections with the right battalion and come back. I had gone out with two men about thirty yards towards the Boche and had rifle grenades with which we were silence a machine gun, which was continually firing at our working parties. About 1a.m. everything was very quiet and the machine gun was silent. All at once the shelling of my line commenced. Lord! Zzzp Bang! Zzzp Bang! Zzzp Bang! I knew what was up. They had seen all the activities or some of them. I ordered men to warn different parties to come at once. The machine guns started tap-tap-tap. This wasn’t at all very bad until about two minutes after, when without any warning, and above the noise of the shelling, we heard a terrific bang. I looked up and saw what at first looked like moving stars, then rockets. They were trench mortar bombs. It’s an awful sight: You see six or seven rockets – like over your head. They go up over 100 yards over your head, then drop to the right or left or on top of you. They were sending these bombs from four different places, and they were falling over every five seconds all around. At the same time they started sending a smaller kind of bomb called the “Fish Tail,” but not as heavy as the T.M. Men were running into the trench from everywhere.

I stood the firing for about 25 minutes and as they did not seem to stop I ran down to the telephone and asked the artillery to retaliate. About three minutes after – Zzzp Bang; Zzp Bang; Zzzp Bang; or guns, thank God, were firing over our heads like a hurricane and in less than two minutes not a sound could be heard from the Boche.

We had the most marvelous luck. No one could realize it. I expected several killed – instead, we had three wounded. One man with both legs crushed, so that his feet were turned the wrong way, was hit by the same bomb that knocked me down, but didn’t touch me, just concussion. My sentry posts were splendid and never moved from their place. The ground all in front of the trench and back of it was plowed up – not a square foot of level ground was left. The trench itself had several hits and many were buried slightly. Two bodies were disinterred and thrown into the trench where they were buried on the parapet. The poor men were badly shaken, and after we cleared the trench, which took about three hours, I let them sleep. In three days I only had two hours sleep. I had four officers under me, but all the same I couldn’t rest, and it was a continual patrol, day and night. In the end I was going about almost reeling and with a very cloudy brain couldn’t concentrate. My subalterns were as bad, although they managed to get about three hours sleep a day. It’s wonderful what an hour’s sleep will do when you are really tired. You wake up quite fresh and ready.

It’s two years today since I left High Beach, England for the firing line in France, after having gone through preliminary training in England, and I am growing strong and very healthy, and my foot is quite strong, as it didn’t give way till the last night and was alright after a day and night’s rest.

Oceans of love to all. Your loving son,

Charlie[4]